Chapter Five: Somewhere Over The Rainbow
12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London
August 4th, 1997
The blinding white light vanished yet again, and this time, Harry was the first to snap out of it. "Cedric..."
The memory of the Diggory boy who'd died because of an act of kindness over two years ago was still a very painful one for Harry. He hadn't known the Hufflepuff all that well, and he'd been jealous of him more than once – but he'd been close enough to Cedric to recognize that if he'd lived, Diggory could have become Head Boy the following year. After leaving school, he could have played Quidditch for England. Or been a brilliant Auror. He could have done anything, become anything, and contributed to the betterment of British wizarding society.
Instead, he'd been killed far too young – and Harry had yet to even visit his fellow Tournament champion's grave. Instead of a successful career, a wife and family – Cedric's only legacy was a grieving father, and the constant nightmares that had lasted for nearly a year in Harry's brain.
And even that was only due to the nightmares of Sirius's death taking over, inside Harry's damaged and battered psyche.
{ If only it had all happened that way, } Harry thought longingly to himself, as he mentally went over the Mirror's latest vision of 'what could have been.' { If only I'd thought to summon Winky that night – oh, damn it, why didn't I? If I could have thought of that, then I bloody well should have! }
It seemed fairly obvious that Hermione and Ron had other things on their minds, though...
"Bloody hell. Harry, were Hermione and I really that bad, back then?" Ron asked ashamedly, sending the Granger girl a quick, embarrassed look – one that she returned, before quickly averting her eyes.
"Your arguments were usually a lot worse, actually," Harry answered absently, before her saw the stricken looks on his friends' faces and so he rushed to reassure them, "But still, that was a long time ago! We've all grown up since then –"
"Now that's a good one, Pot-head!" Mirror Draco chuckled. "You three, grown up? Don't make me laugh! The Gryffindor princess, she's the textbook example of a closet bigot against anyone who doesn't agree with her, ah, occasionally not-well-researched opinions. The Weasel, he's the personification of self-doubt and low self-esteem – and you, Scarhead? Wouldn't be surprised if some muggle psychiatrist diagnosed you with bipolar disorder or something like that, what with the way you have so much excessive guilt –"
"SHUT UP!" the Golden Trio all yelled at the Mirror of Infinite Possibilities angrily, cutting the magical artefact off.
"Truth hurts, does it?" Mirror Draco asked, chortling to himself. "And here I thought you'd want to know what happened after Crouch junior was unmasked that way. But if you don't want to, that's fine by me!"
"All right. We won't ask, then," Ron suddenly spoke up, glaring at his great-grandfather's creation.
"Now, hang on –" Harry started to protest.
"No, Harry, it's better not to ask. Trust me," Ron insisted, glaring at Mirror Draco. "Haven't you realized the pattern yet? Everything this thing has shown us, up until now – all the differences in our lives, big or small? It's all been selected to show us just how much worse things could have been!"
"He's right," Hermione looked shocked, as she slowly started to nod her head. "Snape replacing Hagrid. Ron incapacitating Lockhart. Even that ridiculous funeral for Harry's broom –"
"Hey!" both Harry and Ron shouted in annoyance.
But Hermione kept right on going, "If we were to ask the Mirror about what happened after Crouch junior was caught early before the Third Task that way, it would just tell us some nightmarish horror story, wouldn't it – probably something along the lines of Voldemort eventually taking over the world after Pettigrew resurrects him with someone else's blood, and how we all eventually die very gruesome deaths – with the Death Eaters taking over the Ministry even earlier than they actually did. And so, I for one am not interested!"
"Spoil my fun, princess," Mirror Draco grumbled, even though that tell-tale smirk was still there. "Still, it makes you wonder, doesn't it?"
"What are you going on about now?" Ron demanded impatiently.
"How some possibilities make no sense, even to me," Mirror Draco shook his head, almost talking to himself as he monologued, "That fake Moody worked alongside a whole bunch of Hogwarts people for nearly a year, and yet none of them ever noticed anything? Even with Albus 'Mister Sneaky Legilimens' Dumbledore, and Severus 'Mister Vicious Legilimens' Snape, being around the fake Moody practically all the time? Voldy's plan obviously succeeded beyond all of the rules of immutable logic. In fact, it would have been much smarter for Snake-face to have put the real Moody under an Imperio and make him cooperate on the little things, like getting the Pot-head here through that stupid tournament..."
"So, what are you saying – that we should be grateful how You-Know-Who's arrogance caused him not to muck things up for us even worse than they are now? Sounds bloody fabulous," Ron replied, with a slight sneer.
"And you think your presence has helped, Weasel? Well, now – let's examine that theory, shall we?" Mirror Draco smirked yet again, and that blinding white light erupted out of the Mirror once more.
The three friends were caught spellbound for the fifth time, as they saw and heard –
12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London
August 31st, 1995
The bedroom door banged open, late that morning. Hermione came tearing into the boys' room, her cheeks flushed and her bushy brown hair flying. There was an envelope in her hand as she said breathlessly, "Did you – did you get –?"
The overexcited brunette spotted the prefect's badge in Harry's hand, and let out a girlish shriek. "I knew it!" she then said excitedly, brandishing her letter. "Me too, Harry, me too!"
"No," Harry Potter said quickly, pushing the badge back into Ron Weasley's hand. The Boy-Who-Lived glanced at his best mate before saying, "It's Ron's, not mine."
"It – what?" Hermione demanded, looking confused.
"Ron's been chosen as prefect, not me," Harry said simply.
"RON?" Hermione asked in confusion, her jaw dropping. "But... are you sure? I mean –"
She quickly turned red at the implications of her rather thoughtless question, as Ron looked around at her with a defiant expression on his face.
"It's my name on the letter," he said shortly.
"Well, I..." Hermione trailed off, now looking thoroughly bewildered. "I... well... wow! Well done, Ron! That's really –"
"Unexpected," George Weasley said, nodding.
"No!" Hermione shook her head, blushing harder than ever. "No, it's not... Ron's done loads of... he's really..."
"If you'll excuse me, I think I need to use the loo," Ron said coldly, heading for the door and brushing past his mother, the one and only Molly Weasley – who was backing into the room, carrying a pile of freshly laundered robes.
"Ginny said – Ronald Bilius Weasley!" Molly interrupted herself, almost spilling the laundry onto the floor. "Do watch where you're going!"
"Well, don't just stand there – go after him!" Harry hissed at Hermione, who looked flustered and confused.
"Harrikins is right, Hermione," Fred Weasley smirked at her. "You broke it, you fix it."
"What? Broke what? Fixed what?" Mrs. Weasley asked, looking confused.
"Ickle Ronniekins has finally figured out he's a Weasley and decided to follow in his big brothers' footsteps, mum. Wouldn't be surprised if he brings a broken toilet to Hogwarts, after we suggested it to him," George lied with a big smile on his face.
"What? Oh! RONALD WEASLEY! DON'T YOU DARE!" the red-haired Weasley matriarch called out in annoyance, before Hermione snapped out of it and started to chase after the youngest son of the family.
"RON! Ron, stop! We, we need to discuss this," the brightest witch of her generation said whilst huffing and puffing, as she finally caught up with her target.
"Discuss what?" Ron said, turning around and looking at the teenage witch.
"Well, err... what I said in your room just now..." Hermione said uncertainly.
"Nothing to discuss," Ron told her brusquely. "You think it should have been Harry who was chosen as fifth year prefect, instead of me. Not like Fred and George don't agree with you; bloody hell, I'm pretty sure that deep down, even Harry himself was expecting it. None of you think I'm worthy of it –"
"NO! I never said..." Hermione trailed off, after seeing the skeptical look on Ron's face. He was trying so hard to hide it, but she had known him since they were eleven years old, and the young woman could tell she had hurt her friend badly by the lack of sincerity in her denial.
"You didn't have to say anything," Ron replied emotionlessly. "It's almost funny, in a way – 'cause I don't really care what the twins think. They'll take the mickey, no matter what I do. And the confused look on Harry's face made me a bit uncomfortable, but I can live with that. Still, you thinking that I don't deserve to be prefect? Makes me wonder whether we really are friends, or not..."
"We are friends!" Hermione replied hotly, the embarrassment starting to change into anger. "Honestly, Ron, if we weren't friends, why would I have constantly helped you with your homework for the past four years?"
"Yeah, that's what I'm asking myself," the ginger admitted. "Maybe it's 'cause you wanted to be Harry's friend, and since I was his friend first, you decided it'd be best to keep me happy as well?"
"Oh, of all the-!" Hermione semi-spluttered angrily. "Well, if that's what you think, Ronald – then, then maybe we aren't really friends anymore!"
"Maybe we're not –"
"In fact, now that I come to think of it? Maybe the only reason you and I even talk to one another, is because of our mutual friendship with Harry!" she screeched, losing control of her rather impressive temper. "If it wasn't for Harry... we never would have become friends in the first place!"
Hermione suddenly heard the words coming out of her mouth, and instantly wished she could take them back.
Except she couldn't.
How, how did this boy always manage to infuriate her – to the point where she lost all self-control, and said things she didn't really mean? { It's almost like what happened back during our third year at school, our fights over that stupid broom and everything else! Well, I ought to – }
"Do me a favor, Hermione. Well, two of them, actually. First one is give Harry this, I honestly don't want it anymore," Ron said bluntly, as he tossed her the envelope containing his prefect's badge. "I'll have a chat with McGonagall once we're back at Hogwarts, let her know what – and who – you'd rather prefer. And the second favor is – leave me alone for a while, yeah? Otherwise, I might do something I'll regret afterwards, since you don't seem to think we're friends any more than I do."
Hermione said nothing as the young man turned around, and left her behind. She was too busy trying not to let the tears pooling in her eyes gush out and down her cheeks, not to mention trying to fill the gaping hole in her heart, which Ron's words had created.
Elsewhere in the Black Family home
A few minutes later
Ron knew he had to calm down, but the violent, roiling emotions stirring within him because of Hermione's words refused to dissipate in any way, shape or form. They had fought before, of course, many times – too often for him to keep track of how many times they'd bickered, really – but still...
{ What's that muggle saying Harry mentioned once, the final straw that broke the camel's back or something? } Ron thought muzzily to himself, still walking the dusty, musty corridors with no fixed destination in mind. { Sounds a bit mental, of course, but also rather appropriate. Could be, this is the fight that finally destroys what me, Harry and Hermione have together... }
He didn't want to believe that, though. Not only would it put Harry in the horrid position of having to choose between his two best friends, which was completely unfair to him, but deep down – Ron didn't want to lose Hermione, either. They had been through so much together, ever since they were ickle firsties...
Ron eventually found himself climbing up the stairs and heading for the top floor of the house. He didn't know why – maybe it was because the only rooms up here were that of Sirius and his dead brother, the Death Eater whose name he couldn't remember right now –
{ What the hell was that? } Ron then thought to himself, hearing a 'thump!' coming from Sirius's bedroom. { Bloody heck, I hope he hasn't done something like – like bring Buckbeak up here! That hippogriff will shit all over his room, if it hasn't done so already! }
"Sirius?" Ron called out, after briefly knocking on the door and opening it slightly. "Are you all right in there?"
"Bad master is not present, young blood traitor whose presence defiles poor Mistress's house," the croaky, bullfrog-like voice of Kreacher echoed off the walls of the bedroom (which was decorated with Gryffindor colors and banners, as well as pictures of bikini-clad women and muggle motorbikes).
"Kreacher? What are you doing in here?" Ron demanded, reflexively drawing his wand.
"Kreacher serves House of Black. Must serve the traitorous flesh of Mistress's loins, who has filled the house with mudbloods and blood traitors," the hunchbacked elf muttered, as if he was talking to himself.
"Oi, that's enough outta you!" Ron snarled, instantly unable to stand the house elf's biased slurs against Hermione. "And some house elf you are! Soon as we get back to school, I'm planning to tell the Hogwarts house elves all about you, y'know – and I'll bet you a galleon they'll wet themselves in horror, once I do! You'll become famous, Kreacher, and not in a good way! All the house elves everywhere will tell their sprogs, 'you's must always be working hard, and be's loyal to your master, or you's will be ending up like Kreacher!'" he mimicked the pidgin dialect of the house elves almost perfectly. "The Disloyal Elf Who Did Not Work!"
"Kreacher has heard nothing," the wizened manikin said evenly, even though Ron could tell his derogatory words had infuriated the elf. "And Kreacher hopes that the young blood traitor enjoys his upcoming voyage, so that there is one less abomination inhabiting poor Mistress's house. Can tak, can tah. Tak!"
With an obnoxiously loud crack!, Kreacher then disappeared from the room.
"Bloody decrepit wretch," Ron muttered to himself, making a mental note to ask Remus to ward his and Harry's bedroom tonight, just in case the house elf tried to smother him in his sleep or something. { Why Sirius hasn't given Kreacher clothes yet, or even mounted his head on the wall like the other Black elves, I'll never understand. And probably just as well Hermione wasn't here to witness this – she might have come down on Kreacher's side, instead of mine! She... hullo, what's this? }
Ron saw a book on Sirius's bed, a large volume bound in faded black leather. There was no title on the front cover, but there was something... something about the book that drew him closer...
"Oh, no!" Ron yelled, as the black leather of the book started glowing and the title suddenly appeared – 'Secrets of the Darkest Incantations.' "Kreacher, you bloody bast –"
A man-sized thundercloud encapsulated him before he could get the last word out completely, and the subsequent sizzling arcs of electricity left angry burn marks in the bedroom – before the magical portal vanished from existence, taking Ronald Bilius Weasley with it.
12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London (alternate universe)
A few moments earlier
Sirius Orion Black was not in a good mood. But then again, nowadays, he didn't have much reason to be.
He had spent over a decade in the nightmarish wizarding prison Azkaban for crimes he hadn't committed, and even though he'd escaped and caught the rat traitor and finally gotten his name cleared, Sirius didn't feel any sense of pride or accomplishment with regards to that.
Because he had failed in his duty as godfather to the only son of Prongs and Lily.
Damn it, he'd been so focused on hunting Pettigrew down that night back in '81, he hadn't even protested when Hagrid had shown up at the ruins of the Godric's Hollow cottage to take the toddler to Dumbledore. Which of course had led to Harry being raised by Lily's sister, and her prejudiced oaf of a husband...
Ten years of abuse from the Dursley's, and four years after being sorted into Slytherin, had reportedly destroyed whatever compassion and morality Harry might have had completely. Moony (Merlin rest his soul) had told him that it was bloody awful seeing Harry acting the way he did, during the lad's third year...
He had seen it as well, unfortunately, that one time in Hogsmeade – when he was still hiding from the law as a dog. Harry had cursed an upper year Gryffindor that had done nothing worse than accidentally bump into him. If that had been all, Sirius could have overlooked it (maybe), but the look in Harry's eyes when he'd unleashed the dark magic... the Death Eaters he'd fought during the war, he'd seen that exact same look in their eyes.
Hatred. Rage. A lust to kill...
Merlin help him, but his godson was a slimy Snake, in every sense of the word. And Sirius didn't doubt that somewhere on the other side of the Veil, James and Lily were cursing him nonstop for allowing that to happen.
{ What do I do? } Sirius asked himself, pacing around his bedroom. { How do I fix this? For all I know, Harry may already be a Death Eater, if Dumbledore's right about You-Know-Who having resurrected himself a few months ago! It'd be Voldemort's greatest possible revenge on Harry's parents, to mark the son they died for as one of his own. What am I – }
A howling wind suddenly erupted out of nowhere, and blackish-grey whirlwind manifested itself; before a male human body with red hair was dumped into his bedroom and both the wind and the twister vanished. A boy, from the look of it, and the teenager was in pretty bad shape – cuts and lacerations and maybe even broken bones –
"St Mungo's!" the scion of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black shouted, after he grabbed some floo powder and threw it into the nearby fireplace. After summoning help, Sirius then used his wand to try to heal some of the lad's worst injuries.
The Healers later congratulated him on saving the boy's life, although after Ronald woke up, Sirius almost wished he hadn't –
Because Ronald Bilius Weasley, sixth son of Arthur and Molly Weasley, had been murdered elsewhere less than 24 hours previously – not far from Ottery St Catchpole, according to Mundungus Fletcher.
Fifth Year Boys' Dormitory, Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
May 4th, 1996
Harry James Potter was honestly beginning to regret ever returning to Hogwarts this year.
So much had happened since last summer, and most of it had been bloody awful. For example, Ron had disappeared just before the school year had started, and no one had ever found out what had happened to him. But that wasn't the worst of it, oh no –
{ Dolores effing Umbridge. } Harry hadn't thought it was possible to hate anyone worse than he'd hated Severus Snape, but somehow, the pink-clad toad had overtaken the spy's place on the list of people he utterly loathed. That evil hag had initially been installed as the DADA professor, and then later, Hogwarts High Inquisitor and Headmistress at the behest of the Ministry of Magic after disbanding the school's Board of Governors. The latter because Dumbledore had recently been driven away from the school, taking the blame for the illegal D.A. (as Umbridge defined it) and leaving Harry and Hermione and the others free to keep going with their O.W.L.s year.
Speaking of his female friend, Hermione wasn't doing so well these days, either.
She'd taken Ron's disappearance hard. Apparently, they'd had some sort of nasty quarrel after she'd chased after him, and Harry didn't doubt Hermione blamed herself for what had happened afterwards.
Well, whatever the reasons why Ron had vanished out of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place that day, Hermione had clung to him so tightly after school began that Harry had almost felt like she was smothering him. He also knew that everyone in their year (and probably a lot of the other students, including Cho Chang, who'd told him that it just wouldn't work out between them) believed that he and the bushy-haired witch were together that way. But it wasn't true.
Oh, given how Hermione had physically blossomed this year – her curves becoming a lot more noticeable, and she herself a lot more fanciable – Harry had occasionally wondered whether he should simply ask her out on a date, and see if it actually led anywhere. But every time the thought occurred to him, he rejected it.
Because Hermione had never once given him any sort of encouragement, any sort of hint that she wanted to date him. No shy and/or longing looks, no subtle suggestion of a romantic trip to Hogsmeade, nothing. And while Harry knew he wasn't the most observant bloke in the Wizarding World, he could nonetheless tell that Hermione's only priority these days was getting Outstandings on all her subjects...
Well, that – and occasionally wanting to hex Ron's bollocks off, for not being here at school with the two of them.
{ Wonder if my best mate has any Seer blood in him? } Harry thought to himself, absently rubbing his hand where the phrase "I must not tell lies" had been sliced into his flesh – thanks to that Blood Quill Umbridge favored for her 'detentions'. { Maybe if he sensed what was coming, somehow, Ron simply did a runner to avoid it all. Can't blame him for it if he did, bloody hell – Umbitch has turned this school into a prison! After the term's over and summer hols finally arrive, reckon I might just do the same – leave Hogwarts behind, move in with Sirius, and help get him cleared of those bloody murder charges. Ask if I can be home-schooled by Remus, maybe... }
"You're thinking about him again, aren't you?"
Feeling somewhat surprised, Harry turned to face Hermione, who was staring at him from the entrance to the dorm. "Hermione? What are you doing here?"
"Why else would I be here? Harry James Potter, do I really have to nag you to stop thinking about where Ron might be right now, and concentrate on passing your O.W.L.s?" Hermione demanded bitingly, as she walked into the room.
{ Oh, yeah, there's another reason why I miss my best mate so much. At least when Ron was around, he was able to distract a certain someone about the whole homework thing! } Harry knew better than to say that out loud, of course, but it was true – Hermione had practically gone mental without the missing member of their trio to balance out her semi-manic tendencies, with regard to academics.
"I wasn't thinking about Ron, exactly –" Harry started to say.
"Then what were you thinking about? Those rumors that you and I are shagging like newlyweds?" Hermione demanded, her eyes starting to become shiny.
"WHAT?" Harry immediately leapt off his bed, and started at the Granger girl in disbelief.
"Neville just told me; he couldn't believe I hadn't heard it yet," Hermione confessed, as two tears started to fall down her cheeks. "It's quite the gossip, apparently; and did you know people are saying that we've constantly been frequenting the school's broom closets during our prefect patrols? Neville even mentioned there's a betting pool on when exactly you'll ask my father for my hand in marriage, or when I'll end up pregnant, or, or –"
Without any further warning, Hermione burst into hot, scalding tears as Harry quickly gave her a comforting hug. "It wasn't supposed to be like this, Harry! This year has been just utterly horrid! Not just because of Umbridge and her evil plots, but you know as well as I do how Voldemort has been gathering his forces and started making people disappear, killing them without mercy! Some nights I can't help wondering, is that what happened to him? Did some Death Eater or other manage to get into the Black manor and kidnap Ron that day, or simply kill him?"
"NO! Don't think that!" Harry told her at once, letting go of the distraught girl and taking a few steps back. "Hermione, Ron isn't dead! We may not know what actually happened to him yet, but wherever he is right now, I'm sure he misses us as much as –"
Harry broke off, as a loud whine filled the air. "What's going on? What is that?" he demanded loudly.
"I DON'T KNOW!" Hermione yelled back, covering her ears at the same time he did.
The next moment the awful sound faded, but the air nearby began to get visibly disturbed. Instinctively, Harry stepped in front of his best friend and raised his wand, but to his surprise, Hermione shoved him aside and raised her own wand. He opened his mouth to protest, but quickly shut it at the sight of Hermione's glare.
'Don't try to protect me like some stupid, old-fashioned muggle.' The message was perfectly clear, for all that the witch hadn't bothered to verbalize it.
The disturbed air had now formed a cloudy rectangle of sorts, roughly the height of an adult human male and twice again across. Then a longed-for, still-familiar male voice came out of it, saying, "Did it work? Hello? Can anyone hear me?"
"RON?! Oh Merlin! Is that you?!" Hermione instantly screamed, a look of shock and disbelief appearing on her face; before it was a replaced with one of happiness and joy. An expression Harry hadn't seen on his friend's face since the previous summer.
"Hermione? Bloody hell, it worked! Is Harry there?" Ron's voice sounded just as joyous as Hermione's.
"Yeah, mate, I'm here," Harry replied, feeling better than he had for months. "Listen, Ron – where are you? Are you kidnapped? Tell us where you are, we'll come rescue you!"
"Hang on, Harry, I'll explain everything in a minute. Can you and Hermione see me?" Ron's voice now had an impatient tone.
"No, there's just –" Hermione gestured to the cloudy air, but before she could complete her sentence, it morphed into something like the two-way communication mirror Sirius had given him. And at long last, Ron's smiling face was visible. "Oh! There you are! Yes, we can see you now. Oh, goodness, Ron – you look so different!"
It was true enough, Harry had to admit. Ron looked a lot taller now, and his hair was longer, too. Harry couldn't deny it – all that his friend needed to do was to style his hair into a ponytail, get his ear pierced with a dragon fang, and put on a leather jacket – and he'd be another Bill Weasley! Beating off all the girls that swarmed towards him with a stick, just like his big brother –
"She's right, mate, you do," Harry added, trying to ignore the slight twinge of jealousy that had started niggling in his brain. This was a happy occasion, after all – the prodigal Weasley son had at last returned home! Or close enough, for the moment. "Still, never mind that now. Where have you been all this time? And when are you coming home? Your family's been worried sick, you should know –"
"Are they all okay?" Ron interrupted, looking worried.
"Yes, everyone's fine. Still, you ought to hear Ginny carry on – one minute she's crying her eyes out over you, the next she's threatening to hit you with her bat-bogey hex if she ever lays eyes on you again! I don't know what to tell her, what have you –"
"Hold it, Harry!" Ron interrupted again, holding up a palm in a gesture for him to stop talking. "I'll explain, I really will. But first off, I need to introduce you to someone."
"Who?" Hermione demanded, as Harry watched Ron gesture to someone off-screen.
"That would be me," a very familiar-looking brunette appeared at Ron's side, with an equally familiar voice. "Hello."
Harry gasped, and so did Hermione, at seeing a second Hermione Granger now standing next to Ron in the magical image in front of them. He quickly demanded, "Who the bloody buggering heck is that?"
"Err, yeah, best do the whole introductions bit. Harry, Hermione, I'd like you to meet Hermione Jean Granger. Or Mione, as I prefer to call her; helps me keep the two Hermione's straight inside my head," Ron shrugged.
"Ron Weasley, WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!" Hermione started shouting angrily. "And what do you mean, she's Hermione Granger? I'm Hermione Granger! Merlin, I don't know what you're trying to pull with this little stunt of yours, but I'm not going to –"
"Would you give it a rest for a moment?" Mione – the other Hermione – interrupted tetchily. "Good grief, Ronald's already said that he'll explain everything – and this interdimensional portal won't last forever, you know! So will you kindly calm down and let him speak?"
"Interdimensional portal?" Hermione echoed dumbly, looking utterly gob-smacked. Harry couldn't blame her – he was fairly sure that his jaw had almost hit the ground, from what he'd just heard!
"Yeah, that's what happened to me that day, thanks to Kreacher. That traitorous little bastard –" Ron started to say.
"Language!" both Hermione's shrieked at the same time, confusing Harry for a moment at the stereo nature of his female friend's voice.
"Right, sorry. Bloody hell, that sounded weird," Ron shook his head. He then explained what had happened that day in Sirius's bedroom, the way Kreacher had used that Dark Arts book to banish him from the house and send him somewhere far, far away. To another Earth, where history had turned out quite differently.
"Different? How?" Harry demanded, unsure he actually believed what he was hearing.
"As best as I can tell, Potter, the differences began after you were Sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor back in our First Year," Mione replied acidly.
"WHAT?" both Hermione and Harry yelped.
"Yeah, mate. Sorry to have to tell you this, but the Harry Potter here? He's nothing but an evil monster. As a matter of fact, he's killed people – the Dursley's, for example, and even the Ron Weasley that used to be here... before I showed up," Ron said sadly.
"That's ridiculous! Harry would never kill anybody!" Hermione protested vigorously.
"Your Harry wouldn't, perhaps. And you have no idea just how lucky you are, do you, Granger? To have actually gotten a Harry Potter and a Ron Weasley that were somehow worth more than hippogriff dung, I mean," Mione replied, a bitter and acrimonious tone appearing in her voice.
"Ron? What's she talking about?" Harry demanded, as Hermione just gaped at her counterpart.
"I'm glad you asked, Potter. Did your Hermione ever tell you the last thing she said to Ronald here, the day he left your universe and arrived in mine?" Mione interrupted, before Ron could reply. "Apparently, she told him that without you, without Harry Potter, there was no way Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley would ever have become friends." The alien Hermione's eyes narrowed. "She was quite right, of course –"
"'Course she was. Hermione's bloody brilliant, everyone knows that," Ron interjected with a smile.
"Yes, well, be that as it may, Ronald – I'm living proof of that assertion," Mione went on, her expression becoming cold and somewhat pinched.
Harry honestly couldn't believe some of the words that came out of her mouth as Mione added, "In my first year at Hogwarts, Weasley and I ended up hating one another after the 'wingardium leviosa' incident, and I'm sure he loathed the fact his brother Percy saved me from that troll in the bathroom. My second year, the only occasion Weasley ever spoke to me was when his sister Ginevra vanished, and he desperately wanted to know if I'd seen her in the girls' dorms. Third year, we almost ended up killing each other when Crookshanks constantly went after Scabbers, who was apparently the traitor Peter Pettigrew all along. And last year, of course, there was the Yule Ball debacle – Weasley ruined what should have been a wonderful, magical night for me. And don't ask what happened between him and Viktor, I don't wish to discuss it!"
"You make Ron – err, the other Ron – sound like some kind of evil fiend," Harry said quietly, looking and feeling shocked. { Sodding hell, did I really make that much of a difference to my friends' lives? }
"As far as I'm concerned, the only difference between that Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy – the Malfoy in my world, anyway – was the color of their House ties," Mione replied. "Apart from how Weasley never called me a 'mudblood', I suppose."
"Well, uh, from what I've heard – the other me wasn't a fan of the whole pureblood supremacy thing, any more than I am," Ron added uncomfortably. "Him, Dean, Seamus and Neville were pretty close, actually – apparently, the Remus Lupin over here made the comparison to the original Marauders. Moony, Prongs, Padfoot and Wormtail."
"Apparently?" both Hermione and Harry asked in unison.
"Poor bloke's dead," Ron shrugged. "Never met him myself, Lupin was already six feet under by the time I showed up in this world; but I heard how he helped Sirius take Pettigrew prisoner and clear his best mate's name, way back when."
Harry froze. { The Sirius over there is a free man? And he has to deal with an evil version of me? Oh, my Sirius is never gonna believe this... }
"But how could that have happened? I mean, after Professor Lupin forgot to take his wolfsbane that night..." Hermione trailed off.
"It didn't happen that way here," Mione informed her briskly. "Crookshanks and Black chose another night to go after Weasley's rat, one where Lupin didn't fall victim to his lycanthropic curse. I'm told it was quite a close-run thing, Black almost killed Pettigrew within the Shrieking Shack – but Professor Lupin found them in time and convinced his friend to summon Dumbledore, who in turn summoned the head of the DMLE, and from there the truth finally came out."
"So, that Pettigrew is in Azkaban now?" Harry smiled.
"He was," Ron sighed, causing the smile to instantly vanish. "But You-Know-Who liberated him and all the other Death Eaters there, after the Dementors turned traitor and joined the enemy. Fed on the prison warden and all the Ministry's guards, they did, and then they headed over to the mainland... and that's not even the worst of it..."
"Ron? What do you mean?"
"Been a lot of deaths here recently, mate," Ron abruptly looked more tired and much older than his sixteen years. "Even my dad – err, the Arthur Weasley of this world. He was bitten by some ruddy snake while he was on guard duty for the Order, down in the Department of Mysteries. They eventually found the body hours after he was attacked, and he looked... well, there was blood everywhere..."
Harry instantly felt sick. He knew what Ron was talking about – the same event had happened in both universes, Mr. Weasley had been attacked the same way here. Only, he had seen it happen in a dream, and he'd told Dumbledore and the others in time to save the wizard's life...
{ The evil me over there wouldn't have done that, though, would he? } Harry asked himself in horror. { Assuming he got the vision the same way I did, the evil Harry would have probably just laughed as he watched Mr. Weasley die... }
"Ron? You'll be glad to know your father's fine, here," Hermione said gently, smiling at the relieved look in Ron's eyes. "And you'll be able to tell him how glad you are to see him, once you're back home where you belong. Oh, when will you be coming back to us, exactly?"
Both Ron and Mione just looked at one another, before turning back to face him and Hermione. "Uh, well..." the ginger started to say sadly.
"He isn't coming back, not yet anyway," Hermione's doppelganger said bluntly.
"WHAT?!" the instantly-enraged witch shouted. "What are you-? Ron Weasley, you come home RIGHT THIS INSTANT! Do you hear me? All these months, I've been hoping and praying that you were still alive, and now you don't want to –"
"It's not a matter of 'won't', it's a matter of 'can't'," Mione interrupted, looking annoyed. "That book of dark incantations which Black's house elf used all those months ago, it doesn't exist here. I know, I've looked everywhere!"
"What? Hang on, Kreacher? And, and book of dark incantations?" Harry asked, feeling bewildered.
"Yeah. I must have made that nutter really mad, threatening to tell the Hogwarts house elves what a disgrace he was," Ron shook his head. "Let what happened to me be a lesson for you, mate; never piss off a crazy elf, and give it a chance to strike back at you."
"And all this time, we never even suspected that Kreacher – oh, that's it, I'm telling Sirius to cut off his head and flush it down the loo!" Hermione yelled, in a sudden frenzy of anger.
{ This, from the founder of S.P.E.W.? } Harry asked himself in astonishment. Then he realized what Hermione wasn't saying; namely, that Kreacher was to blame for losing the absent member of their triad, for making their fifth year at Hogwarts infinitely worse than it otherwise would have been. { No wonder she's mad... }
"So, there's no hope, then? You're stuck there?" Harry asked Ron, feeling despair settle around him like a shroud.
"It's hardly as bad as you're making it sound, Potter. Yes, interdimensional magic is dangerous and difficult to do, and there are a lot of unknowns – but I'm sure that once Voldemort is finally gotten rid of, I'll be able to solve the problem eventually," Mione replied testily.
"Why are you helping us?" Hermione suddenly demanded, staring at her otherworldly counterpart. "I mean, why did you assist our Ron to make contact with Harry and myself this way? Because I heard you admit it – you thought your Ron Weasley was scum, no different to Malfoy and his ilk. So why help ours?"
"First of all, Granger, I'm not the type to condemn someone just because their exact genetic duplicate was a complete arse," Mione glared back at her. "And second, over the past few months, Ronald has become a friend – and like yourself, I'm loyal to my friends. Of course, it took a while for him to convince me that he truly wasn't like Weasley –"
"It took me protecting Crookshanks against the Inquisitorial Squad, actually," Ron cut in, looking somewhat queasy. "Not to mention being tortured by Umbridge with that Blood Quill."
"She used that on you, too?" Harry blurted out without thinking, causing Hermione to turn and stare at him in shock.
"Yeah, so you've met your version of that toad, then? I swear, mate; it's like I've taken your place in this world, or something," Ron grumbled, causing Mione to roll her eyes at him. "Ended up in the hospital three times so far this year, if nothing else –"
"What? You got hurt? What happened?" Hermione instantly demanded, her face whitening in fear.
"Uh, doesn't matter, at least not anymore. M'fine now, see?" Ron held up his arms and slowly turned around in a circle, and again Harry suppressed that annoying spike of jealousy as Hermione watched their friend do so with suddenly hungry-looking eyes.
"So, what now?" Harry asked, forcing himself to focus. "When will you two contact us again, I mean."
"Err, not for a while..." Ron said vaguely, staring down at the floor.
"What? Why not?" Hermione demanded.
"Well, for starters, some of the spell ingredients are ridiculously expensive – and it's only due to Black's generosity that I was able to get everything I needed, this time," Mione replied. "Not all of us happen to be swimming in galleons, you know."
"Plus, there's a war on, mate," Ron sighed, making eye contact with them again. "I dunno what's been happening over there for the past year or so, but here? You-Know-Who's been taking advantage of all his opportunities, since the Ministry's been refusing to admit he's back – and the Order is going to need every knut it can get, soon enough. It's going to come down to smuggling the muggleborns out of the country if – when – the Death Eaters take over the Ministry, I reckon. And that certainly won't be cheap!"
"Blast. The spell's going to end soon, I can tell," Hermione's doppelganger interjected. And sure enough, the image of the wizard and the witch from another world flickered for a moment. "That's why I suggest you all say your goodbyes, while you still have the opportunity." Without another word, Mione turned and stepped out of the field of view of the magical transmission.
"Well, ah, guess this is goodbye, then," Ron said uncomfortably. "I'm sorry –"
"We don't have time for apologies. Ron, I'm sorry for what happened that day as well, but it's too late to change that now. Just – keep yourself safe, and alive, and come back to me as soon as you can, understood? However long it takes, I'll be waiting for you, so don't you dare disappoint me again!" Hermione semi-shouted, before she turned and ran out of the dormitory.
The supernatural viewscreen flickered again, and Ron said hurriedly, "I won't. And Harry, you keep her safe, okay? And the rest of my family too, all right? I'm depending on you –"
"And I'm depending on you to get back here as quick as you can, Ron. Hermione needs you, and so do I! So don't do anything stupid. You hear me? Avoid the evil me, and once Voldemort is history, get in touch so that we can figure out a way to bring you home!" Harry said urgently. { Assuming Kreacher destroyed that book he used to do this whole universe-switching thing, which he almost certainly has! }
"I will. G'bye mate," Ron said simply, as the flickering grew worse. "Give my love to everyone."
"I will, Ron, so long –"
And then his best friend's image was gone, and Harry was all alone in the empty dormitory.
Perhaps it was all for the best that Harry had no idea just how long it would take, before the Golden Trio would ever meet again...
A/N: Thanks to everyone for continuing to send in reviews, feedback and suggestions! And this 'might have been' is initially based on chapter 9 of JKR's 'Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix', so anything from therein doesn't belong to me. Likewise, the banishment incantation is made up from The Language of The Dead in the Stephen King novel "The Regulators", and so that likewise does not belong to me. Oh, and this chapter was primarily inspired by the story "Mirror, Mirror" by BlackHawk13 - it truly is a damned shame how that fanfic has been abandoned now, for lo these many years... Anyway, as always, I hope you keep reading and reviewing this story – please, tell me what you think, and how the story could be improved!
