My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.
Chapter 7: The Old Flame
Near Savernake Forest, Wiltshire, Britain, July 10th, 2005
Granger was blinking rapidly. Flashback, Ron realised - he was starting to recognise the signs. "Luna, turn it off!" he said - a little more sharply than he intended.
"What?"
"Turn it off!" he repeated himself, a little more loudly. Granger was pressing her hands on her ears, and Ron wished he had some ear protection.
Luna left the hallway, and, a moment later, the shouting stopped. She returned and asked: "What did you say?"
"I wanted you to turn off the alarm," Ron said for the third time.
"Ah."
Granger was still breathing heavily, but she seemed to recover as Ron watched. "Merlin's beard! What was that?" she spat, glaring at Luna.
"My intruder alarm, of course. That is, my back-up intruder alarm."
"You linked an alarm to a tobacco box on a shelf?" Granger sounded incredulous. Again.
"Of course! Everyone knows that members and minions of the shadow government are often heavy smokers - not only are they stressed from trying to oppress the masses and keep their machinations secret, they can also camouflage themselves in clouds of smoke, you know! And members of the shadow government are corrupt and, therefore, greedy, so they wouldn't be able to resist a genuine eighteenth-century vintage tobacco box! And, finally, minions of the shadow government are trained to search for your most private secrets, so they would look through the box for hidden documents such as your diary!" Luna beamed at Granger. "It's effective on three levels! And, as you've proven, it works on dimension-travelling witches, too! If you're actually a witch."
"I am a witch," Granger said through clenched teeth. "You just saw me levitate a tobacco box with magic!"
"That could've been a directed beam of gravity-reversing energy. Or a psionic burst. A Timelord certainly would be able to fake magic thanks to their hyper-advanced technology," Luna retorted.
"I'm not a Timelord. And Dr Who is a fictional TV series," Granger replied.
"Ah, that's what they want you to think! It's actually the perfect cover - any time the aliens make a mistake, the government can claim it's just part of a new episode of Dr Who. That's why they restarted the series, you know - they tried to save money in the 80s and 90s, but when the Cold War ended, the budget of the secret service was cut, and that also reduced the budget for covering up alien activities, so they had to restart the series."
This time, Ron was sure that Granger wasn't experiencing a flashback - she was just left speechless and blinking by Luna's theories. Not unlike Percy that time Luna had tried to interrogate him after he had started working for the Foreign and Commonwealth Office. That had been an amusing family dinner.
"But…" Granger shook her head. "I told you that I'm not an alien!"
"Even if you are telling the truth, that doesn't mean that there aren't any aliens." Luna sniffed. "As a scientist, you should be aware of that!"
"What?"
Uh oh. Granger was getting mad. Ron cleared his throat. "Anyway - as you know, we're being hunted by the police. Can we hide here until the real murderer has been found?"
"Of course!" Luna beamed at him. "This is a refuge for any innocent victim of the government!" She frowned and peered at Granger. "You are innocent, aren't you?"
"Of course I am!"
"She was actually fighting a fascist wizard government in her home dimension when she was transported here in a magical accident," Ron added.
"What? Oh, Mother Goddess! Is that true?" Luna quickly closed with Granger and grabbed her hands. "You're a refugee from an oppressive, fascist government?"
Granger blinked, but, apparently, her desire to lecture won out over her indignation. "In a way. The politics in Wizarding Britain do not align perfectly with the politics of this world - or the muggle parts of my home. That means the magic-less parts. But the government was quite bigoted towards those who weren't born to wizards and witches, favouring the so-called purebloods even before the Dark Lord took over. He didn't take over openly, though. Instead, he mind-controlled the Minister and had his followers and sympathisers take control of the Ministry - the wizarding government - to persecute the muggleborns like me. As a minority and relative newcomers to Wizarding Britain, we were the perfect scapegoats. So, I don't think it's entirely incorrect to call his movement fascist, although it's not entirely correct either."
"A government controlled from the shadows using mind control! Persecuting minorities to distract the mindless population from their own situation! Did you have a voice of freedom spreading the truth for those who would listen, too?"
"Well… actually, yes. There was a pirate wireless station, and The Quibbler," Granger replied. She looked wary now - or again.
"Oh, I knew it!" And Luna lunged, hugging Granger. Hard. "A sister-in-arms! A transdimensional comrade! Be welcome in my abode!"
Ron couldn't tell if Granger's open mouth was due to shock or lack of air - Luna was stronger than her waif-like appearance suggested, and she was as passionate when hugging as she was in everything else that she did.
But what was important was that she had welcomed them. They'd be safe here.
"...and an entire world - the Wizarding World - is hidden from the general, non-magic population? Thanks to magical mind control?" Luna shook her head. "Could this world have such a hidden world as well? Full of witches, wizards and dragons?"
"There isn't. I checked thoroughly," Granger said.
"Too bad. But in your world, no one knows about this 'Statute of Secrecy'?" Luna leaned forward, licking her lips, almost pushing the table back as she did so.
"Ah… close family members of muggleborn wizards and witches are allowed to know about magic." Granger looked taken aback by Luna's enthusiasm. Ron could understand the feeling, of course - Luna could be scary when she got excited. Well, excited in the wrong way.
"Oh. And how do the wizards keep them from spilling the secret?"
"Well, it's illegal, for one thing. And who would believe them if they claimed magic existed?"
Luna would, of course, Ron thought.
"No implanted magical compulsions to keep quiet? Constant surveillance of everyone in the know? No threats to their loved ones? No examples made of random passers-by?" Luna sounded almost disappointed.
"Nothing like that happened before I left." Granger's face turned into a scowl. "But with Voldemort in charge, I could see them going after the family members of muggleborns if only to prevent the birth of more muggleborns."
"Oh!" Luna gasped. "Your parents are in danger?"
Granger winced but shook her head. "They were already in danger for being my parents. I was one of Harry's - my Harry's - best friends. Harry, Ron and I were the country's Undesirables Numbers One, Two and Three. So we took precautions when Voldemort regained a body."
Luna almost looked envious, Ron noticed. "You were public enemy number three?"
"Two, actually. I was deemed the greater danger than Ron."
"Oh! Because you were a witch and challenged their oppressive patriarchy?"
"What? No. It was because I'm a muggleborn witch while Ron's a pureblood wizard. I didn't deserve magic according to their ideology, so me being better at it than anyone else at school meant I challenged their stupid prejudices in ways Ron couldn't."
And Ron bet that Granger didn't exactly hide her talents, either. Quite the contrary.
"That doesn't make much sense," Luna replied, pouting.
"Of course it doesn't! The Death Eaters and their supporters are small-minded, ignorant bigots," Granger spat.
"Like our government!" Luna nodded rapidly.
"I wouldn't go that far," Granger replied.
"Of course you wouldn't. But you haven't grown up here. As a visitor, and from an openly fascist dictatorship, you would have missed the secret cabal ruling the country." Luna frowned at Ron and Harry, although Ron's friend didn't notice - or acted as if he didn't - since he was reading Luna's latest 'Underground Newsletter'. "Even some people who grew up in Britain and, as trained police officers, should really see through such cover-ups, won't accept the truth."
"Ah…" Granger looked - not for the first time - lost.
Ron shrugged. "As police officers, we need evidence before we act."
"Hard evidence," Harry added.
Luna huffed. "And that's why you're now being hunted by the forces of the shadow government! If you had arrested them beforehand, they wouldn't be able to do this now!"
It was an old argument, but after Bones and Scrimgeour's deaths, it stung a lot more. "We have a suspect, at least," Ron said. "Corban Yaxley. He's…"
"...a high-ranking member of the CI5. Your own department!" Luna frowned at him. "How did he manage to fool you?"
"He probably didn't do anything criminal or even suspicious for a long time," Granger cut in. "That's what his counterpart in my world did."
"Oh!" Luna's head instantly turned to stare at Granger. "The similarities are so significant, you can use knowledge of one person to judge their counterpart?"
"Not exactly," Granger was quick to reply. "Our worlds differ greatly. At best, it provides hints or suspicions for further investigation."
"Oh! And you encountered Yaxley?"
Granger pressed her lips together before answering. "Yes."
To Ron's relief, Luna didn't ignore the hint and didn't pry. Instead, she said: "Oh! Did you meet my counterpart as well?"
"Yes." After a moment, she added: "We went to school together. She's a witch."
"Oh! Tell me about her! Is she fighting the fascists as well?"
"Yes, although she does it by helping her father publish his underground newspaper, The Quibbler, to oppose the enemy propaganda," Granger explained.
Luna clapped her hands together and squeed. "Just like me! Were we - I mean, your Luna and you - friends?"
"Yes," Granger answered. She didn't seem to be lying, Ron noticed. "Very good friends," Granger added.
"Oh! Were we involved? With each other, I mean?"
"What? No. No." Granger shook her head. "But we were part of the, well, the resistance movement. Part of the core - of the new generation, at least." She had a smile on her face, but it looked rather sad. Ron almost reached out to pat her hand, but Luna was already moving to hug her.
"I'll replace my counterpart as your friend until you can return to your world!"
Well, Ron hadn't expected that. But, in hindsight, he should have.
"And here're the guest quarters!" Luna announced half an hour later, after she had finally picked up on Ron and Harry's hints that they hadn't slept for nearly twenty-four hours. She was a lovely woman, but she sometimes lost sight of the fact that not everyone shared her sleep cycle."They're not the most luxurious, but they're the safest rooms in Britain!" She proudly spread her arms as she turned around and waved at the bunk beds lining the walls.
"Thank you," Granger said, already eyeing the closest bed.
"Ah… you don't need a special diet, and you aren't allergic to our food, are you?"
"I'll be fine," Granger told her, sitting down on the bed to remove her shoes. "Thank you," she said again with a tired smile.
"She eats MREs to save time," Harry added with a smirk.
"Really? Is that a parallel development or did wizards and witches copy them? And why are you doing that? Is magic unable to make food?"
"I stocked up here," Granger explained, "in case I had to hide for a length of time without being able to resupply."
Luna beamed at her. "Great minds think alike! I've got my own stock, so you'll be able to enjoy familiar meals here!"
Granger managed to keep smiling, but Ron spotted her fingers slip and freeze as she was undoing her shoelaces. He smirked and, for a moment, considered letting Luna feed Granger nothing but rations. He decided against it, though - Granger was prickly on a good day; he didn't want to imagine how insufferable she might be if she were forced to eat rations for a week. Well, it certainly would be a sight to see. From afar. So he cleared his throat and spoke up: "I think we should save the rations for emergencies."
"But isn't this an emergency?" Luna replied, looking puzzled. "The emergency, actually - the government is, finally, hunting you!" She shook her head. "And even though I took care not to be predictable, suddenly increasing the amount of food I need would raise a flag which the government's minions could hardly miss. No, we should stick to rations for safety!"
Ron winced. It was a good argument - at least Moody would think so. And since Moody might be assigned to tracking them, they could hardly argue against such a precaution. No matter how slim the chance that Luna was actually under government surveillance. So he nodded. "Good thinking, Luna."
She smiled widely at him, which almost made it worth eating MREs for a few days.
Harry and Granger glared at him, though, as soon as Luna had left - as if this were Ron's fault. "So, ah… goodnight."
Granger didn't bother answering - she just slipped under her sheets and turned away from him. And whatever Harry grumbled wasn't a wish for a restful night.
"You and Luna were involved with each other, weren't you?"
Granger's question took Ron by surprise. He glanced at her bunk; she was still under the sheets, but she was looking at him. "Good morning," he said, smiling - at the impressive bedhead she was sporting, with half her bushy mane plastered to one side of her head and the other half trying its best to point in all directions at once.
She narrowed her eyes. "It's almost noon."
He shrugged. "Almost means it's technically still morning." Harry was already taking a shower, and Luna was still asleep.
She scoffed. "So, were you and her a couple? You asked if my Ron was involved with her counterpart."
He had, hadn't he? Ron nodded. "We parted amicably."
"So I gathered," she replied, in a rather wry tone.
He sat up. "I take it her counterpart is different." Granger had looked a little too shocked to have dealt with Luna before.
She pursed her lips. "There are some parallels. But my… her counterpart wasn't quite so fixated on conspiracies. That was mainly her father, although she believed his theories without question. No, she and her father focused on Magizoology - they were usually hunting for mythical, and perhaps fictional, magical creatures. Until the war started, at least."
"Ah." He nodded and waited.
"Your past won't be a problem, will it?" she asked.
"We parted amicably," he repeated himself, wondering why she was asking. "You've seen her reaction, haven't you?"
That made her wince. "She's a little more enthusiastic than I expected."
Ron laughed. "Well, you're pretty much the perfect guest for her. You validate all her beliefs. If a witch from a parallel world can be hiding out in our own, nothing is impossible. It's probably the happiest day of her life."
"Is that a good thing?" she asked with a glance at the door.
"Whoever is hunting you has corrupted part of CI5 and sent about a dozen thugs to attack you in broad daylight. Whether Luna's correct or not about a government conspiracy - I don't think she is - it's certainly better to be cautious," Ron pointed out.
She nodded, although it looked like she was doing it despite herself.
"Was my counterpart in a relationship?" he asked before he could reconsider.
"He dated Lavender Brown for a few months, in our fifth year." She wasn't looking at Ron, he noticed.
"You were a couple, weren't you?"
Her wide-eyed expression as she gaped at him proved that he had guessed correctly.
Swell.
She must have realised that he knew since she sighed. "We were a couple, yes. We shouldn't have become a couple, of course. Not in the middle of a war. Not with just the three of us in our cell. But…" She slowly shook her head.
"You were teenagers and fighting a war," Ron finished for her.
That earned him a frown. "Yes," she said, sounding as if she really didn't like to admit he was correct. "It's a completely understandable reaction to the circumstances, of course. Almost a textbook case."
"You've studied psychology?"
"It's a figure of speech," she replied.
He nodded. This was a delicate subject. Touchy, too. 'So you've seen my body naked' probably wouldn't go over well.
"Ask," she snapped. "I know you want to."
"Ask what?" He tried to play dumb.
She rolled her eyes. "You really think I'll believe you don't have a clue? After your Sherlock Holmes act before?"
"Touché." He shrugged. "Although in my defence, it usually works on people who don't know me."
More eye-rolling followed. Well, you couldn't win them all.
"So… what's my counterpart like?" He tried to sound casual, almost whimsical. Just idle curiosity, nothing more.
"He was barely eighteen last time I saw him," she said. "He'll have changed in the meantime." Or died, but Ron wouldn't mention that. Even though both of them were aware of the possibility. "So I can only tell you what he was like as a teenager."
"Yes." That was obvious.
She closed her eyes for a moment. "He was brave. Above all, he was brave. Even as an eleven-year-old, he was braver than most adults. He was always willing to risk his life for his friends and family. Or acquaintances, in some cases," she added with a sad smile.
Ron was certain that Granger had been among the latter - he knew that expression. And brave? Well, no one had called him a coward. No one but Malfoy, and the git didn't count.
She took a deep breath. "He wasn't perfect, of course. He often didn't think before he said something - or did something. He felt overshadowed by Harry. Probably by me as well. Certainly by his older brothers."
Ron struggled not to wince. That sounded familiar. Well, until he had helped bring Pettigrew to justice. And who wouldn't feel overshadowed by Harry?
"Stubborn to a fault, and sometimes too proud to admit a mistake," she continued to mention his - and the other Ron's - flaws. "But he was kind, and funny, sometimes very insightful and perceptive. And you wouldn't find a better friend in all of Britain."
"Ah." That was quite the list. "Well, he sounds like a great guy," he said, using a light tone.
"Yes," she agreed with a smile.
So Granger was definitely in love with her Ron - Ron knew that kind of smile as well. Even though he might not have seen it as often as he wished. Or appreciated it. "No wonder you want to return at once," he said, trying to sound optimistic and supportive.
She frowned at him. "I'm well aware that the odds of Ron and Harry being alive aren't good. And even if they are alive, the chance that Ron didn't find someone else is very slim."
Now that sounded a little… He frowned. "They think you're dead."
Another flinch. "The circumstances of my leaving would readily lend themselves to such an assumption."
Which meant Ron was right. But that was another subject he didn't want to touch. Certainly not right now.
Fortunately, Harry entered their room just then, having finished his shower. Ron wasn't about to discuss his counterpart's love life with Granger in Harry's presence, and he would bet half his salary that Granger didn't want to either.
Even though Ron really wanted to talk about this.
Half the dining table in Luna's living room was covered with newspapers when Ron entered her living room. "Hi, Luna." She was wearing a kimono and fuzzy rabbit slippers today. He couldn't tell if she was wearing anything underneath.
"Hi, Ron," she replied without looking up from The Times. "Your ration is the one in the middle."
Right, rations. He had almost forgotten about that. "Are those today's newspapers?"
"Certainly not! That would require either a subscription or regular purchases!"
"Ah." He should have remembered that.
"But the news will soon start on the telly," she went on, apparently munching on a ration's main course herself.
He looked at the three screens mounted on the walls in the room. The BBC, CNN and… something in Chinese. "Did you learn Chinese?" he asked.
"No."
He waited a moment, but she didn't elaborate. Well, time to tackle the MRE. He checked the label: Chicken w/ Thai Sauce.
"Your favourite," Luna said. "Well, among the MRE menus available." She was smiling at him in that sweet way of hers.
He smiled in return. "Thanks." He didn't think the meal would be even close to a good Thai takeaway, but it was the thought that counted.
And he would rather eat a tin of bacon dating back to the Battle of Britain than complain and make Luna feel bad.
Harry arrived a minute later, mumbling a greeting as he craned his neck to look at the newspapers spread out on the table.
"Yours is the beef steak," Luna declared before Harry could take a seat.
"Ah, thanks," Harry said after a glance at Ron. Fortunately, he didn't try to make an issue out of it.
"Where's Hermione?"
"Trying to fix her hair," Harry said. "I think - she was the last in the bathroom."
"By choice," Ron quickly said when he saw that Luna was starting to frown. "And she's not trying to fix her hair," he added with a frown at Harry. Even her hair wouldn't be that difficult to pull into a ponytail.
"I like her hair. It's wild. Untamed," Luna said.
"What's untamed?"
Granger had arrived. And she had her hair in a ponytail.
"We were discussing your hair," Luna blithely told her.
"What?" Granger was narrowing her eyes.
"Harry was speculating that you were 'trying to fix your hair'," Ron said. "I told him you weren't."
"Yes. And I said I liked your hair." Luna nodded.
Granger snorted but smiled at her. "Thanks, but I know it's a mess."
"Like nature."
Ron didn't think Granger liked that comparison. But the woman - the witch - sat down at the table and grabbed her ration. "Roast beef?"
"I thought it would be the closest to a taste of home," Luna explained. "The most English of the choices we've got available."
Granger's smile slipped a little, but she didn't show any other reaction and even sounded sincere when she thanked Luna. "Thank you."
"Enjoy your meal!"
"Thank you."
It wasn't that bad, actually - at least Ron's meal wasn't. Not good either, though. But Luna meant well - even Granger knew it. Of course, she had known Luna's counterpart.
And Granger ate her meal without any complaint. Ron couldn't spot even a hint of distaste. Either she was even more stubborn than he had thought or her taste buds were not normal. Which, Ron realised, could be the case since she was a witch.
Before he could ask - and potentially embarrass himself, or her - though, the telly finally switched to the news, and Ron winced as footage of Clissold Park appeared.
"...and there is still no news about the fate of Dr Hermione Granger, who was last seen in the company of the two suspects. Dr Granger was kidnapped in 1991 at the age of eleven in one of the most famous criminal cases of recent history. After her escape in 1998, she led a quiet life and studied quantum physics before pursuing a career in research. Speculation that the recent kidnapping attempts were related to her past hasn't been confirmed by the authorities yet, although many critics of the police point out that at the time of her original kidnapping, rumours claimed that her kidnappers, who were never identified, enjoyed the protection of senior government officials."
Ron glanced at Granger. She didn't show any reaction. Of course, she hadn't actually been kidnapped for seven years, but still…
"Harry Potter, one of the two missing police officers suspected of being involved with the shocking murder of two senior police officers, is himself famous as a result of an incident in which he shot a terrorist to death at the age of five. While his age - he is one year younger than Dr Granger - means it's unlikely that he was involved in her first kidnapping..."
Harry, though, had just snapped the plastic spoon that had been in his MRE. Ron reached over and clasped his friend's shoulder.
"They don't mention that said terrorist killed your parents?" Granger blurted out. "Or that he was trying to kill you? Who wrote that, Skeeter? This isn't a neutral, objective report!"
Ron could feel Harry grow even tenser and winced.
"The media are controlled by the government," Luna added. "This is just further proof of that!"
"It's probably just Yaxley feeding them rumours and slander," Ron said. "It'll be corrected soon enough."
"Yes!" Luna nodded so quickly, her head bobbed up and down. "When we expose the entire conspiracy!"
Ron nodded in agreement - it was clear that there was a conspiracy, even though he didn't think it involved the government.
The rest of the news report was more speculation - and insinuations about Harry and Ron's character and suspected motives, dragging up a few incidents from their past and twisting them out of proportion. They hadn't been that reckless, and, anyway, Smith had had it coming. At least the news stated that the shooting in Clissold Park wasn't related to the recent arrests of several individuals believed to have been planning a number of bomb attacks on the London public transport system.
"Now this feels like home," Granger commented with a sneer when the news switched to foreign events. "Biased media and incompetent authorities."
"And a few brave souls willing to challenge the system!" Luna announced, raising her fist, before Harry or Ron could say anything. "But we could do with a few more allies, I think. Who else was your friend in the other world, Hermione? We could recruit them!"
Granger froze. "You can't trust someone just because their counterpart was a friend of mine," she said after a moment.
"Why not? So far, it's proven to be correct, hasn't it? Ron, Harry, me…" Luna replied, ticking off a finger with each name.
"That's not enough data to trust it will hold true. There are fundamental differences between the two worlds, even discounting magic," Granger said. "For example, Tom Riddle was born almost twenty years earlier in my world than in yours."
Ron blinked. "A seventy-year-old wizard terrorised Britain?"
"Yes." Granger looked at him. "Of course, he had made himself a new body, a monstrous thing that looked as if it was part snake, but even if he hadn't done that, he wouldn't have been hampered by his age. Not at all." She looked like she was about to tell them more, but stopped.
Ron leaned forward a little. "Do wizards age more slowly?" Like elves, perhaps?
She hesitated a moment. "They remain active for longer. And the average life expectancy is about twenty to thirty years longer. Provided you don't get killed." She looked grim. "Two wars significantly lowered Wizarding Britain's life expectancy."
That was a chilling thought. Ron tried to imagine just how many deaths it'd take to do that to Britain.
Luna spoke up again. "Well, a list of your friends back home will still be useful! We can investigate them to check whether they can be trusted!"
Granger didn't look like she shared Luna's optimism. "That will be difficult while we're hiding from whoever is after me."
"Ron and Harry will manage," Luna told her, then smiled at Ron. "You will, won't you?"
He returned her smile. "We'll do our best."
"Many of your friends were killed, weren't they?" Harry spoke up, addressing Granger in a soft voice.
Ron clenched his teeth - he should have realised that - and Luna gasped as Granger pressed her lips together. "A number of my friends and acquaintances were killed in the second war, yes."
And her two best friends had been fighting a desperate battle when she had been transported to this world, Ron reminded himself.
"I'm so sorry! I didn't think about how painful this might be for you!" Luna blurted out - and went to hug Granger.
In different circumstances, watching Granger awkwardly trying to console an apologising Luna would have been amusing. But not now. Ron cleared his throat. "Shall we finish our meals before they grow cold?"
It was a weak excuse, but it persuaded Luna to let go of Granger and return to her seat, and for the next few minutes, no one spoke as everyone finished their meals.
"We still need to decide on a course of action and make plans," Harry said once everyone but Luna, who had already finished her sweet, was nibbling on what passed for pudding in the rations.
"Investigating Malfoy?" Ron asked.
"Without any evidence?" Granger countered.
"It's better than doing nothing," Harry, predictably, argued.
"Yes!" Luna chimed in. "And even if the dark secrets of the Malfoys turn out to not be related to the government conspiracy, we'll still have removed a corrupt and nasty man who would otherwise be a potential member of the shadow government!"
"And it's not as if the Malfoys haven't got it coming," Harry added.
"Settling accounts?" Granger frowned.
"We wouldn't frame them," Ron said. "But I'm certain that they have some skeletons in their closet."
"Why didn't you investigate him before, then?" Granger crossed her arms.
"Bones forbade it," Ron told her.
"And you obeyed her?" She sounded doubtful.
"It's one thing to solve a case by disobeying orders," Ron said, "but another to go fishing, so to speak." Bones had made it adamantly clear that she didn't tolerate those kinds of shenanigans.
"Ah."
"But if we can - correctly - claim you were suspicious of the Malfoys, possibly having some flashbacks…" Harry grinned. "Whatever we find, we can use."
"You're asking me to lie to the police." Granger didn't seem amused.
"Perish the thought!" Harry even clasped a hand to his chest. Sirius's influence, Ron thought. "Just tell them that you dimly remember the names and seeing them briefly during your captivity."
Granger's face looked frozen for a moment. Stiffly, very stiffly, she asked: "Did I talk in my sleep?"
Fuck! Ron glanced at Harry, who looked aghast, then at Luna, whose slightly lost expression was quickly turning to horror as everyone realised that Granger had been captured and tortured by the Malfoys in her world. "Perhaps not the Malfoys," Ron said hastily.
After a moment, Granger slowly nodded. "You can't just assume people and things are the same," she repeated herself. "Apart from magic, my world has several sapient species - trolls, giants, goblins, house-elves, merpeople and centaurs, to name a few. That is bound to change people even if they might look like twins."
So far, though, things and people had lined up almost perfectly. Ron bit down on his retort. He had made a gaffe already; no need to compound it. Also… house-elves? Were those like high elves?
Fortunately, a beeping noise served as a distraction. "Oh! A priority message!" Luna announced, jumping up.
"Priority message?" Granger asked.
"It's Daddy!" Luna yelled over her shoulder as she left the room.
Granger looked at Ron. "Is Xenophilius as… security-conscious as Luna?"
"Paranoid, yes," Harry replied. "And it's Xenophon, not Xenophilius."
Ron glared at him. At least, Granger had tried to be diplomatic. Luna was a little quirky, but a great friend. And there was no...
Luna returned. "Ron?" She looked a little concerned. "Your father's at my daddy's, asking for a meeting."
Uh oh.
"Arthur wants to meet us?" Granger asked as they followed Luna to her computer. "Or just Ron?"
Ron made a note that she knew his parents' counterparts - well, he had already assumed that.
"I don't know," Luna replied, "he hasn't said yet." She opened the door to her 'operations room', as she called it, and Ron saw Granger's eyes widen at the sight of the hardware installed there. It might be cobbled together from a dozen different machines, but Luna's rig had serious computing power - which she needed, of course, to run her systems. "Look!" She pointed at the screen to the left, where her mail program was open.
Ron read the message as he sat down. It was brief and to the point: Son, we need to meet. You and your friends.
He started typing. We have been framed.
I know.
Meeting us is dangerous.
I trust you to take precautions.
"Why does Arthur want to meet us?" Harry asked. "He should know that we're alright and don't need help. Or food."
Ron rolled his eyes. How long would Harry hold that against Mum? "He knows. So this is about something else."
"Me. He wants to meet me," Granger said.
"We don't know that," Harry pointed out.
Ron shook his head at the sudden role reversal and typed: Is everything alright?
Your mother's forcing me to contact you. She's very concerned.
Ron released his breath. "He's not being forced to do this." To think Dad's silly 'precaution', straight out of a spy novel, would actually turn out to be useful… Ron had merely been humouring his father when he had proposed such code phrases a few years ago.
"But your family will be under observation," Harry said. "Not even Dawlish would be too dumb to consider the possibility that we might contact the Weasleys."
"That's why he went to Daddy!" Luna said, beaming. "No one can spy on our home!"
"That's good for communication," Ron replied. "But he won't be able to shake off a tail." Dad wasn't a trained police officer or spy, after all. And with Bones and Scrimgeour assassinated and several shootouts in London, the police would pull out all the stops to solve the case. Manpower wouldn't be an issue. Meeting us is dangerous. We'll be fine.
There's good reason to suspect otherwise.
What? Ron blinked. Dad was a government employee, not a spy or police officer. Why would he say such a thing? He looked at Harry, who seemed equally bewildered. Luna looked intrigued, and Granger was frowning. No help there. What do you mean?
I'll explain when we meet. Can you reach London by tomorrow evening?
Dad was evading his question? Ron clenched his teeth. Yes. That wasn't revealing anything sensitive - you could reach London from almost anywhere in the country in that time.
The next reply was an address: Dumbledore Manor in 'Mould-on-the-Wold'.
Granger, who was reading over his shoulder, gasped straight into his ear.
The Headmaster looked terrible. Pale, thin, with his bad arm hanging uselessly at his side, he seemed barely able to stand, much less walk. He looked frail, she realised with a shock. Judging by the muttered curses she heard from Ron and Harry, they had realised it as well.
Dumbledore smiled. "I am not quite dead, yet, but I do not expect to live much longer."
She swallowed and forced herself to nod as Harry spoke up: "Good evening, sir."
He gestured, and three chairs appeared in front of his desk. "Please, have a seat. It is more comfortable to discuss such things while you're seated, is it not?"
She pressed her lips together at the hint. They had known the Headmaster had been cursed months ago, but he hadn't looked nearly that bad when they had seen him a few days ago.
Everyone sat down.
"Time. Ask me for anything but time." Dumbledore shook his head. "But death comes for everyone, and I have lived a full life. I but wish the circumstances in which we find ourselves were less dire."
Was he rambling? She pressed her lips together so she wouldn't blurt out her question. He was Dumbledore, after all.
"You didn't just call us here to tell us you were dying, did you?" Ron said. "You kind of did that already."
"No, I did not merely want to reveal my condition in a dramatic manner." Dumbledore chuckled, but it ended in a heavy cough. "I have called you here to discuss the Order and your mission."
She stiffened. Their mission. The hunt for the Horcruxes. The Headmaster had spent the last ten months - the last months of his life, it seemed - teaching and preparing them.
"Did you find more clues to the Horcruxes' locations?" Harry asked.
"Alas, I was not so fortunate. You will have to rely on your special connection to Tom's soul," Dumbledore replied. "But a good friend of mine has provided me with a safer method to dispose of your targets." He pulled out a small bottle. "A few drops from this will dissolve anything."
Flamel. The 'good friend' had to be Flamel. But…
Dumbledore chuckled again, which once more ended in coughing. He conjured a glass of water for himself this time and took a swallow before he continued. "While the Elixir of Life, did not, alas, manage to counter the curse on me, I can assure you that this concoction will not disappoint you. I have tested it myself."
Oh. She felt chastised for doubting Dumbledore as Harry took the bottle - very carefully, of course.
"A tap with your wand will shrink it, another will restore its true size," Dumbledore explained. "I took the liberty of enchanting and reinforcing the bottle."
That made her breathe more easily. If they were to break a bottle full of a substance that could destroy a Horcrux while they were carrying it…
"Thank you, sir," Harry said.
"Do not thank me. I leave you with a terrible burden."
She thought that he was right. "And who will replace you?"
"Alastor will handle most of the Order."
Leaving them to deal with the Horcruxes.
"Tom lost a significant number of his trusted followers in his attack on Hogwarts. Unfortunately, not enough to stop his rise to power. Not once I'm dead." The Headmaster shook his head. "Soon, those who dared to oppose him will have to flee and hide. I can only hope that those he will target will heed my advice - or be scared into hiding by my death. But, at the very least, Severus killing me will cement his cover."
She wasn't the only one who gasped. Snape was… a spy? "Should you be telling us that?" she asked. Dumbledore had impressed on them how vital secrecy was.
"You already know the most important secret. If you should fail, if you should get captured and your secrets revealed, all is lost anyway. And if you succeed, your word will save Severus." He coughed once more. "You know what you have to do."