A/N: Thank you all so much for the reviews, favorites, and alerts. I was honestly surprised to get so much great feedback.
This chapter is dedicated to Noell-spyandDemeter'sdaughter. Thank you for catching my typos! (Simple system-catch an error, get a chapter dedication)
All the characters belong to J.K. Rowling, et al.
May 13, 1998
8:15 p.m.
Marvel Loch
The figure struggled to sit up once more. She pulled herself onto one elbow before spots exploded in front of her face and she collapsed a third time. The tangy, coppery taste of blood trickled into her gasping mouth. Snaking a hand up to her face, she examined her injuries.
A gash across her forehead. Where had that come from?
She moved her hand behind her and felt sticky mat of her hair.
From the first fall, probably.
Wheezing, the figure rolled onto her stomach, dragging herself toward her wand. Grasping it limply, she summoned her remaining strength.
"Please. Help me."
May 10, 1998
3:47 p.m.
The Burrow
Ron stomped up the stairs behind Hermione.
"Don't you leave! I'm trying to talk to you!"
Hermione whirled around, hand on the knob of Ginny's door.
"I'm not leaving yet, I'm packing. And furthermore, you aren't talking, you're shouting!"
She threw open the door and stormed toward her cot, Ron following. Startled, Ginny jumped from her bed and hurried out behind her fuming brother.
"You're mental!" Ron shouted. "You can't just pick up and leave like this!"
Hermione had pulled out a rucksack and began folding blouses to put into it.
"You've known that I was going to do this for some time. I only just found out where my parents are."
This did not seem to calm Ron.
"Yes, today! Why such a rush?"
"Because," Hermione snapped, "time is of the essence. The longer they remain under this spell the harder it will be to reverse it!"
She snapped the rucksack shut and headed for the bathroom.
"So you're going alone?" Ron cried from behind her.
"Yes!" Hermione yelled as she shoved her toilet kit into her bag.
"Mental!"
Downstairs, Ginny had found Harry coming in from the garden.
"What is going on?" she asked, wide-eyed.
Wordlessly, Harry handed her a piece of paper.
"This just came from Kingsley," he answered.
Dear Hermione,
Your parents have been located. They currently reside at 883 Emu Fence Road, Marvel Loch, Western Australia. Please report to the ministry by 6:00 to access an emergency portkey to the Australian Ministry of Magic, Wizards' Division.
Best of luck,
Kingsley
Ginny stared at Harry.
"Tonight?"
He nodded.
"There is such a street as Emu Fence Road?"
"Apparently."
"No wonder Ron's off his rocker."
Harry nodded again. The two made their way into the kitchen. Ginny poured them glasses of pumpkin juice as Harry pulled two chairs up to the kitchen table. They sat and listened to the argument above. Hearing the noise, first Arthur, then Molly wandered into the kitchen, pulling up their own chairs. Without asking, Harry passed around the message.
"She's going alone, I take it?" Molly asked at last.
"Yeah," Harry replied. "She told me that this was one of those things that she really needed to do on her own."
"I don't like it—Hermione all by herself in a strange country," Molly mused.
"She's got a good head on her shoulders," countered Arthur. "Besides, both ministries are aware of the trip. She'd have good people to help her." He looked up toward the ceiling and laughed.
"I know this sounds crazy, but it's actually good to hear them fighting again."
Ginny nodded.
"It makes life seem normal again," she murmured.
"Like a step forward," added Harry.
Indeed, the Weasley family had been moving forward, bit by bit, in the days following the funeral. Bill and Fleur had returned to Shell Cottage the morning before, and just today, Percy had gone to Diagon Alley with George to start cleaning the shop. The atmosphere remained somber, but small pieces of their old lives were beginning to fit back together.
Suddenly, though inevitably, the shouting began to move down the stairs.
"And isn't Australia rather far?" cried Ron. "What if something were to happen to you?"
"Don't be ridiculous!" Hermione shouted, "Have you ever heard of a portkey accident? And anyway, I have stops in Morocco and India."
The pair had stepped into the den. Ron grabbed for Hermione's arm.
"What about when you get there? The Ministry is in Sydney!"
Hermione yanked her arm back.
"I have a map! I'm going to rent a car!"
"Can you even drive in Australia?"
"Of course you can! They do have roads, you know!"
Ron tossed Hermione's rucksack to the sofa.
"That's not what I meant and you know it!"
Hermione sighed, trying to calm herself.
"I have my license for here. That's enough for the Muggle government. They even drive on the same side of the road as we do here."
Her last comment seemed only to confuse Ron more. Hermione brushed past him and picked her rucksack back up.
"Ron, I have to go. Kingsley is expecting me."
Ron willed the tears not to fall from his eyes.
"You're sure I can't come with you?" he asked.
"I'm sure."
Quietly, Hermione walked into the kitchen to share a rushed farewell with the others. Passing back into the den she quickly kissed Ron's cheek before stepping into the fireplace.
"The Ministry!"
May 13, 1998
1:15 p.m.
The Burrow
Harry was trying to ignore his best friend. For three days now, Ron had skulked about the Burrow. He refused to admit that he was miffed about being left behind. He refused even more adamantly that he was anything but appropriately worried for Hermione's safety. When she had owled to let the family know of her arrival, Molly, Arthur, Harry, and Ginny had been relieved. After all, Hermione was the cleverest witch of her age. The spell should be easy—it was the international travel that had worried them. Ron, of course, would not relax until she had returned intact. Hence the pacing, sighing, snapping, and brooding.
Escaping the Burrow with Ginny had been no help, either. Ron had decided to take out his anger on Harry's budding relationship with the youngest Weasley. Somehow, he was even more insufferable than the first time Harry and Ginny had dated. They couldn't get away from him long enough to talk, let alone snog. Which, come to think of it, seemed to be Ron's entire plan.
So today, Harry was lying on his cot, reading, while Ron played chess with Charlie. Ginny sat with her back to Ron's bed, enchanting a string to play cat's cradle with her. Playing chess against Charlie seemed to calm Ron down some, for the game required his full concentration. And he could always imagine that his brother's pieces were evil dingoes, or wallaby things, or Australian Deatheaters. It made his victories all the sweeter.
This game, however, was not going very well for Ron. He was more distracted today, and Charlie was easily finding careless openings in his strategy. Charlie trounced Ron, capturing his king in record time. With a huff, Ron pushed himself up from the floor and gathered his pieces.
"I'm going for a walk."
With that, Ron stomped out of his room, down the stairs, and into the garden.
"At least he's gone," said Ginny.
"Ginerva!" tutted Charlie as he stretched out on Ron's bed.
"We're all thinking it," she retorted. "Honestly, I don't know why he's taking it like this."
"Well," began Harry, knowing that he was treading thin ice, "you weren't exactly pleased when I left you behind."
Ginny let her string continue without her.
"That was different. You were headed off to certain death and breaking up with me. Hermione will be back before the week is out."
"Yes, but he loves her," interjected Charlie. "That's bound to make him batty."
Ron had never admitted this fact, but the three gathered in his room accepted it as absolute truth.
"Those two are making things so weird," added Harry. "They kiss, but nothing comes of it. Then Hermione pulls away and Ron clings harder."
"Sometimes I want to lock them up until they sort themselves out," sighed Ginny. "I mean, it couldn't possibly make things any worse than they are now."
Downstairs, Ron had returned to the garden. His frustration led to rather vigorous degnoming, much to his mother's delight. Ron took little pleasure in the chore, but instead simply tried to wear himself out. Spinning like a discus thrower, Ron tossed the gnomes well out of the Wesley garden. Ron absorbed himself in the repetitive task, allowing the anger, frustration, and fear to melt away. He still wasn't happy about the situation, but after a dozen or so tosses, he no longer wanted to hit Charlie with the chessboard. Nor did he especially want to tell off Hermione. Mostly he just wanted to know why she'd insisted on going alone. A large part of Ron still felt that he could never measure up to The Boy Who Lived and the Cleverest Witch. He didn't want to say it aloud—or even think it for too long—but he wondered if Hermione went alone because she thought that he'd slow her down. Worse, would she never love him because he wasn't smart or brave or mature enough? Ron sighed and rubbed his hands on his pantlegs.
Suddenly, a southern wind blew up around him, disturbing leafs and flower petals. For the briefest second, Ron saw a silvery wisp dart through the airstream. His heart leaped into his throat. Stumbling, Ron ran back into the Burrow and up the stairs. He burst through his bedroom door, gasping.
"Ron!" Ginny cried. She and the boys got to their feet.
"What's happened?" asked Harry.
"I…" Ron tried to control his breathing. "I'm not sure. Gin, do you know where Hermione's patronus book is?"
"On her shelf, I'd think."
"What's all this about?" demanded Charlie.
"I think…I think that Hermione sent one," Ron wheezed.
"From Australia?" asked Harry. "Is that even possible?"
"No clue," Ron answered. "That's why I want her book."
The four ran from Ron's room to Ginny's, headed for the three shelves Ginny had given Hermione. The rows of books were fit to burst, but Hermione had kept them neatly alphabetized by author.
"Is this it?" Harry asked. "Patronati: A Practical Guide to the Patronus."
"Looks like!" Ginny replied.
Harry began thumbing through the book, searching for an explanation of long-distance summoning. Charlie and Ginny sat on her bed, but Ron felt a pull toward Hermione's cot.
"Here!" Harry announced. "She marked it! 'With patience and practice, a patronus can be sent through any distance. One's own control is the primary determining factor,'" he read.
"So it is possible," breathed Charlie.
"Wow," Ginny whispered.
"Is that what you saw, Ron?" Harry asked. "Hermione's patronus?"
Ron turned back to the group.
"For a second, yes. A little silver otter," he replied slowly.
Dazed, Ron bent to pull up Hermione's pillow. Beneath it was the one thing Ron knew she'd never leave without—Hogwarts, A History. Ron picked up the book and opened its battered cover. Inside was a folded piece off parchment with his name on it.
"Ron?" Harry asked, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"She left me a note. She pulled me to it."
"Do you want a minute?" Harry asked. Ron could only nod. Silently, Harry, Ginny, and Charlie left the room. Ron sank onto the cot, opening the parchment.
Ron,
If you've found this, then something has happened and I need you. The portkey directions are at the bottom of this sheet.
I'm sorry I told you not to come—I really wanted to make this right by myself. For the longest time, I've felt so guilty for what I've done. I know that I was only trying to protect my parents, but I feel like the most dreadful hypocrite. Just another witch who thinks that Muggles can't take care of themselves.
I lied about the spell. It's much harder and much more complicated than I let on. If you're reading this, then I am in very serious danger. That's primarily why I made you stay—you're my ace in the hole. Ask Harry to explain that one.
I hope to see you again soon.
Your Hermione
Portkey to Morocco: 50p coin in Ministry's guest entrance
To India: Bright blue rug on clothesline across street
To Sydney: Gold statue to your right (elephant head)
To Perth: Rubbish bin directly behind you
After Perth, you will need to fly to my parents' cottage. I've left something to help you in locker 437.
Slowly, Ron folded the parchment and stood. He walked out of Ginny's room to meet the other three in the hall. Ron took a deep breath and handed Harry the note.
"She thought something bad might happen. She wants me to go to Australia."
"No word about what might have happened?" asked Ginny.
"Only that the spell is a lot more dangerous than she said," Ron replied.
"Take my broom," Harry said quietly. "It's faster."
"Thanks, mate."
"Are you leaving right now?" asked Charlie.
"As soon as I can," said Ron. "Can you explain to Mum and Dad? I really don't know how long I'll be there."
"Of course," said Ginny, patting her brother on the shoulder.
Without another word, Ron returned to his room and packed his schoolbag with a few changes of clothes, his wand, and Hogwarts, A History. When he reemerged, Harry handed him his broom.
"Harry," Ron asked "what's a 50p coin look like?"
"It's small and silver and has '50 pence' on it."
Nodding, Ron apparated.