Fifth Year (part four)
~o0o~
As Hermione dealt with the onslaught of emotions she'd predicted would come upon reliving that last scene, the memory changed. She took a deep breath and urged herself to keep it together at least until the vial was done with.
Observing the new memory, she saw that Harry, Ron and younger Hermione were situated around a table, looking through a pile leaflets. Fred and George prepared to sneak up on them and she followed.
"Hey," said Fred into Harry's ear, making her roll her eyes at his dramatic entrance. Fred then continued to stretch his legs out on the table in front of them, causing several booklets on careers within the Ministry of Magic to slide off onto the floor. "Ginny's had a word with us about you. She says you need to talk to Sirius?"
"What?" said memory Hermione sharply and froze, her hand halfway towards picking up one of the books.
"Yeah . . ." said Harry, "yeah, I thought I'd like—"
"Don't be so ridiculous," said Hermione, straightening up and looking at him as though she could not believe her eyes. "With Umbridge groping around in the fires and frisking the owls?"
"Well, we think we can find a way around that," said George, stretching and smiling. "It's a simple matter of causing a diversion. Now, you might have noticed that we have been rather quiet on the mayhem front during the Easter holidays?"
"What was the point, we asked ourselves, of disrupting leisure time?" continued Fred. "No point at all, we answered ourselves. And of course, we'd have messed up people's revision, too, which would be the very last thing we'd want to do."
He gave memory 'Mione a sanctimonious little nod. She looked rather taken aback by his thoughtfulness.
Not to mention, how odd it was he was acting this thoughtful after our almost 'kiss', Hermione mused. I'd already figured he didn't think anything of it—didn't think anything of me— and yet he showed consideration for my studies. It had been somewhat confusing.
Memory Hermione was still looking at Fred, her mind working to figure out his motives, when he gave a tiny cough.
"But it's business as usual from tomorrow," Fred continued briskly. "And if we're going to be causing a bit of an uproar, why not do it so that Harry can have his chat with Sirius?"
"Yes, but still," said Hermione, distracted from her previous thoughts now by the change of topic, and instead adopted an air of having to explain something very simple to somebody very obtuse, "even if you do cause a diversion, how is Harry supposed to talk to him?"
"Umbridge's office," said Harry quietly.
The last thing Hermione saw was her counterpart flaring her nostrils, staring at Harry with wild eyes. "Are—you—insane?"
The tower disappeared and instead there was the Entrance Hall, where students stood gathered around in a ring along the walls. The onlookers were from all the different houses, and members of Umbridge's beloved 'Inquisitorial Squad' were among them. Hermione mentally snorted.
In the middle of the hall stood Fred and George. To someone less intelligent they would appear cornered. And naturally, that's exactly what Umbridge thought as she strode toward them. Fred and George merely summoned their brooms, swung their legs over them, and prepared to take off.
"We won't be seeing you," said Fred.
"Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch," said George.
Fred looked around at the assembled students, at the silent, watchful crowd. She noticed that his eyes found her younger self. He grinned.
"If anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three, Diagon Alley—Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," he said in a loud voice. "Our new premises!"
"Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat," added George, pointing at Umbridge.
"STOP THEM!" shrieked Umbridge, but it was too late. As the Inquisitorial Squad closed in, Fred and George (and Real Hermione who was pulled to go wherever Fred went) kicked off from the floor, shooting fifteen feet into the air. Fred looked across the hall at the poltergeist bobbing on his level above the crowd.
"Give her hell from us, Peeves."
And Peeves, who nobody had ever seen take an order from a student before, swept his belled hat from his head and sprang to a salute as Fred and George wheeled about to tumultuous applause from the students below and sped out of the open front doors into the sunset.
The sunset became the twins' apartment, and Hermione steadied herself as she was transferred from the back of a moving broom to solid ground.
It didn't quite resemble the apartment Hermione had come to know, suggesting they hadn't fully set it up yet. Boxes adorned the walls and the furniture screamed new.
Fred was sitting by the kitchen table, drinking pumpkin juice and eating a sandwich. George strolled in, enthusiastically waving something in his hand.
"Our first letter to the new apartment!" he announced.
"Who's it from?" asked Fred, looking eager and putting down his sandwich.
"Ginny. Probably to tell us how legendary we are," George grinned.
"Well, go on, read it," said Fred.
George cleared his throat dramatically and read aloud:
"Dear Fred and George,
I hope you're pleased with yourselves. The school is full blown utter chaos, and everyone couldn't be happier. It wouldn't surprise me if people would name your exit as the prankster day. Peeves has followed your order and provided hell for our dear Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, but even that isn't the most unbelievable news. For all the people who are continuing your legacy, what has come to my attention is that even our favourite Prefect has been caught up in the spirit of trickery. The other day, Pansy Parkinson was caught walking around with antlers sprouting from her head. I didn't give it much thought beyond 'ha ha!' but it was obvious how much it delighted said Prefect. Upon investigating the issue and prodding her for answers, she finally relented yesterday and said that she might or might not have suggested to some people to target the Slytherin girl. Obviously, I'd bet on the former. So, I hope you're happy that you've corrupted innocent Miss G—. I also hope to hear how your business is doing and I look forward to seeing it in person whenever Mum sees fit. (Hope she hasn't given you too much grief).
Miss you already!
Ginny.
P.S. You might want to speak to Lee once more. I know you already did, but he's been feeling down."
Fred and George looked at each other, absorbing the news.
"Well," said George finally, "if I wasn't already sympathetic, Fred, I'd say you're one poor soul."
"What d'you mean?"
George shrugged. "Just as we leave, Granger comes around."
Fred gave small absent nods, seemingly thinking about something, as George continued explaining how unfortunate the situation was and how he also was pleasantly surprised at the attitude she was adopting now, and then how they really should have taken greater care to assure Lee didn't feel left behind—
"I almost kissed her!" Fred blurted.
"What?!" George stopped in his ramblings and stared wide-eyed at his brother. "When did this happen?!"
Fred winced at his brother's loud voice, only to then grimace from the guilt of not having shared the information sooner, "The night you went off to fight with Angelina. I was showing Hermione the fireworks and . . . we stood very close."
"Did she . . .?"
Fred grimaced. "Yeah, she looked like she could've kissed me too."
"Merlin's saggy y-fronts, why didn't you do it, then?"
"It was most likely an 'in the moment' type of thing, and I swore I'd stay just friends with her, didn't I?"
"You have the restraint of a saint, you do," George proclaimed, looking impressed, though infuriated at the same time.
Fred collapsed onto his arms on the table. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."
George smiled at his brother's muffled apology. "I don't like that you kept it from me for this long, but I understand."
Fred glanced up. "I think it'll be easier to let go now."
George smiled sadly. "Perhaps." He sighed. "Maybe we ought to focus on work, yeah?"
Fred chuckled. "Yeah, women, who needs them, eh?"
"Exactly! That's the spirit! We have a bloody jokeshop, brother, what else do we need?"
The twins' spirits seemed to lift as they encouraged each other to look at the situation in another light. Just as they toasted their pumpkin juice, the clang from their glasses echoed all around, and everything turned dark.
Half a second later, the smoke cleared and Hermione found herself in the hospital wing.
To her horror she saw Ron laying in one of the beds, his face and bare upper body covered in tentacle marks. And they were fresh ones; not faded like the ones she'd traced with her fingers in their rare moments of tranquillity together.
She swallowed. The marks looked so much worse than she remembered . . .
She was startled out of her thoughts when she heard Mrs. Weasley shrill voice enter the room, accompanied by a gently hushing Mr. Weasley. They had just come in through the door, followed by Fred and George.
Madam Pomfrey emerged from behind a curtained bed which Hermione recognized as her own. She hurried to their side, urging them, much like Mr. Weasley had a second before, to remain calm and quiet.
"My poor boy," said Mrs. Weasley, "Will he be all right, Poppy?"
Madam Pomfrey gave a wan smile. "He won't suffer any lasting damage beyond a few scars. Although, I might have found an unction that could clear those up and with any luck there might not even be any scars."
"Lasting damage?" repeated Mr. Weasley. "Did something else happen to him besides superficial wounds?"
"Young Mr. Weasley was attacked by some creatures which not only inflicted wounds, but also made his brain . . . well, for a lack of a better word; fuzzy. Not to worry," Madam Pomfrey hurried, "he's all right now, and quite clear last time he was up. You may see him, but try not to crowd him."
"Thank you," said Mr. Weasley while his wife was already on her way to their youngest son. Fred and George trailed behind her, looking awfully pale against their magenta coloured robes.
Madam Pomfrey excused herself and headed for her office.
"My poor boy," sobbed Mrs. Weasley, stroking her son's hair. "My poor, brave boy."
"You heard her though, Mum," said George. "He'll be fine. Just a few scars."
"Yeah, and you know, girls like brave blokes with scars," said Fred. "He's going to be quite sought after next year."
Mrs. Weasley wasn't listening to them and just continued stroking Ron's hair. Mr. Weasley strode forward, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Molly, he's alive. That's all that matters."
Mrs. Weasley nodded but still didn't say anything.
Fred and George looked helplessly at each other.
"Before we go back, let's buy out Honeydukes and send him the chocolate," said Fred.
"Probably will finish it all in a day, anyway," said George and they both chuckled quietly.
There was a groan pulling all of their attention to his bed as Ron stirred. "Wha . . . Mum?"
"How are you feeling, dear?" asked Mrs. Weasley. "Do you need for us to call on Madam Pomfrey?"
Ron gave a faint nod.
"We'll go," said Fred, his eyes never leaving his weak looking brother until they were completely out of sight. They got Madam Pomfrey.
"Here you go," she said, having grabbed two vials and was now handing Ron both of them. "One is a Sleeping Draught for when you wish to go to sleep again, and the other is a Pain Relief potion. Afraid the bites might sting still so you should take that one now."
"Yeah," said Ron and downed the entire thing. "Thank you."
"Just don't strain yourself. You need plenty of rest." She was about to turn away and leave again, when Ron raised a weak hand.
"Wait," he said. "How's everyone else? How's Harry, and 'Mione, Ginny, Neville and Luna?"
"Oh, you're so sweet," cried Mrs. Weasley. "Worrying about others."
Madam Pomfrey ignored her. "Mr. Potter is with the Headmaster and I suspect your sister, Mr. Longbottom and Miss Lovegood are resting in their dormitories. Their injuries weren't as severe and so I had to usher them out after healing them."
"Oh, yeah," said Ron, blinking. "I remember they said goodbye . . ." Suddenly, he frowned. "What about 'Mione?"
For the first time, Madam Pomfrey façade broke. It was fast but noticeable. The Weasleys exchanged looks.
"I'm afraid Miss Granger was hit with a very dark curse. It will take some time, and a large amount of potions, but eventually she'll heal."
Hermione winced remembering all the potions she'd had to endure drinking, the weeks she'd spent in pain at the slightest movement near her chest. It had been awful, but she never complained. Harry was mourning Sirius and that was worse than having to down a couple of potions.
"Can I see her?" asked Ron. Hermione noticed that Fred was looking beseechingly at the mediwitch as well.
"You should be resting," said Madam Pomfrey.
"But I—"Ron stopped at the stern look Madam Pomfrey sent him and nodded. She left and the Weasleys were once again alone.
"Well, we should check on Ginny before we leave," said Mr. Weasley. "We're very proud of you, son, but never put your mother and I through this again. Do you hear me?"
It was rare for his father to be scolding so Ron had no choice but to agree.
"Good," Mr. Weasley nodded. "Molly, come now, your daughter needs you too and Ron here will be okay with the boys."
Mrs. Weasley kissed Ron's forehead, earning herself an embarrassed 'Mum!' and then left with her husband to check on their daughter.
As soon as the door closed, Ron turned to his brothers. "Check on Hermione."
The twins looked bewildered.
"I know I can't, but if she was hit by a dark curse I need to know how bad it is."
"Ron, Madam Pomfrey said she'll be fine . . ." started George.
"Please."
George sighed. "Fred?"
Fred startled. "Me?"
"One of us'll have to be the look out." George sent Fred a look that told him that George understood how much Fred wanted to check on Hermione too.
Fred answered with a grateful smile.
"All right," he said. "Hang on, little bro', I'll tell you how she is."
"Thank you." Ron visibly relaxed and something close to a guilty expression showed on Fred's face as he strode to check on the only other bed in the hospital wing. Perhaps it was due to the selfish desire to see Hermione for himself and not just for his brother that caused his grief? Whatever it was, it disappeared as soon as he stepped inside the curtained area. With cautious and smooth moves belonging to an experienced rule breaker and midnight stroller, he pulled the curtains aside and slid in. He looked behind him and then turned to look at where Hermione lay on the bed.
It was worse than she remembered.
Her breathing was strained for starters, not severely so, but loud enough to take notice of, and beads of sweat gathered at her forehead. Her upper body, much like Ron's, was bare. Well, mostly. She had a shirt on that had been severed at the stomach to grant easy view and access to the bandages surrounding her ribs. Some sort of ointment covered them and smelled most foul. On the nightstand stood at least ten potions.
"Blimey . . ." said Fred, his voice no louder than a breath. "Granger, you get up to more trouble than I've ever done, you know."
He gave a weak smile, then brought his hand to his face and tried to collect himself before stepping out . . .
"How is she?" asked Ron immediately when they came back.
"She's seen better days," admitted Fred. "Though, I don't think she's beyond healing."
George clapped his younger brother on the shoulder. "See, Ron? She's fine. Now, you should rest and we need to visit Ginny before returning to work, so take that potion of yours and sleep, or Mum'll have a fit."
They left their brother fully asleep and walked out of the infirmary.
"How are you?" asked George.
"Fine, I suppose. I'm glad they're all okay," said Fred. "But Hermione got the worst of it, George, you should have seen her."
"That bad, huh?"
"Worse."
George sighed. He walked alongside his twin in silence until they'd reached the end of the corridor. "People'll be needing laughter now that You-Know-Who's back."
"I expect our business will be thriving," said Fred, without enthusiasm.
"You know that's not what I meant," said George. "Terrible things are about to happen and the best way to stick it to the snake is to show him he can't scare us."
Fred showed signs of having taken those words to heart, the air around him clear of his previous gloom. "Right you are, Gred."
George smiled, then grew serious again, "Speaking of terrible," he said, "I spoke with Dad and we agreed that the last thing Harry needs right now is to face torment from his relatives so . . ."
The memory switched and they were now at King's Cross station.
Harry was walking away with his relatives, smiling for once as he headed for Privet Drive. He waved and eventually disappeared in the crowd.
"I think that went splendid," said Mr. Weasley.
"Yeah, they'll know better than to treat Harry horribly now," said Tonks. "Although, one would think someone should have done this sooner."
Remus gave a nod. "Well, I think that concludes our business. It was very nice to meet you all." And though smiling pleasantly at them, there hung a cloud over the werewolf's head as he departed, Tonks trailing after him with Moody.
"Poor Professor Lupin," said Hermione, both her and the Weasley children waiting until their parents were done discussing what had just happened. Hermione remembered how her parents would later argue with her in the car over involving the muggle authorities. They had all wanted to, but since Hermione knew she better run it by Professor Dumbledore, she decided to do that first. She sent him a letter, trying to be as respectful as she could while simultaneously urging him to get Harry away from his relatives. Apparently others had had the same thought. When she received his reply he told her that the problem had been brought to his attention by the Weasleys years ago, and more recently Moody, Tonks and Remus. But he'd had to tell them the sad news that Harry was to unfortunately stay for his own safety.
This had been a rude awakening for Hermione, and it would be later, during the camping, that she would start questioning Dumbledore's motives even more, finally coming to the conclusion by the end of it that he had been a mere mortal like the rest of them.
"Can't catch a break, poor bloke," agreed Ron, referring to Remus.
"At least he and Harry are somewhat up and about," said Ginny. The group sullenly hummed in agreement. When it appeared their parents were about to finish their talk, Ginny approached Hermione to give her a hug. She immediately stepped back though when the latter gave a tiny hiss in pain.
"So sorry, Hermione," said Ginny. "I should have realized—"
"No, no, it's okay! Just—"She glanced at her parents. "Really, it's okay."
"Well, good to know in advance we can't hug you," joked Fred. He settled for resting a hand on her shoulder and giving a small squeeze. "You take care."
Hermione gave him a polite smile. "You too."
Fred and George walked toward their parents, but not before glimpsing Hermione blush when Ron stepped up to her after them, attempting to grant her a careful hug.
"Saint, you are," mumbled George.
Fred chuckled and threw an arm over his brother's shoulder. "At least it's moving forward. I'm happy for them."
"I take that back," said George, shaking his head, "I doubt you can be a saint if you lie."
~o0o~
A/N: Hellooooooo, friends!
Oh my god, we're finally done with Year Five! It's been a lot, this one. So many canon moments to take into account when writing this, but all the research was worth it!
Thank you for all your kind words, I was nervous asking you to not send me "Please Update"s but this just shows that my readers are the best! It helped a lot! You're part of this experience too, so to have such a pleasant comment section is truly a blessing. Both for me and the other readers too, I'm sure. You're making it a joy to write, so thank you for that.
Anyway, next chapter I have planned enough that I can tell you that we'll see some more post-war Hogwarts, so I hope you're ready for that!
Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
Until next time!
/Primrue
P.S. Ginny omitted Hermione's name because as previously mentioned Umbridge was looking through the owls.