A/N: Harry Potter et al belong to JK Rowling, with my thanks for letting me play with her toys.

A quick word about canon characters: As the story widens to include other perspectives beyond our heroine's, you will see that things are not the same as they were in canon. Now, that may seem redundant to say, but some reviews and PM's from readers of later chapters make it clear that I don't always make it easy to connect the dots along the way. More to the point, I as an author may not see how things appear to readers, so I'm thankful to reader 1529 opening my eyes to this possible issue.

A final point to make: much of what happens to influence the behavior of other canon characters may not be shown in this story. Rather, the events portrayed in 'Jean' are meant to show how the world affects and appears to her. Once her perspective changes, you may catch more information about the others she interacts with.

We don't always know why people do what they do, sometimes it's hard enough to manage our own motivations.

Without further delay,

Chapter 5 – Last Bus Home

This chapter takes place entirely on Sunday, October 31st 1993

Hogwarts staff room, early afternoon

Minerva Mcgonagall sat back and half-listened as the staff meeting once again turned into a political discussion. Things were finally settling down at school, and though last year had had it's share of tragedies, by mid term things were settling down. So far this term had been much quieter, though not so peaceful outside the school.

Word had filtered in just as the Halloween feast approached that muggleborns were disappearing throughout Britain.

In addition to that horrible news, the 'oversight' by her friend in the Unspeakables was being investigated. They suspected that several muggleborns were not 'squibbed' as the law required. She refused to dwell on it and dashed off a quick prayer for her kind-hearted friend who had bound their cores but not blocked them as was normal procedure.

Returning to the conversation at hand it seemed that the winds of change were blowing at the Ministry. Albus believed that a dark power was moving in the shadows of the government. He dismissed out of hand the rumored return of Voldemort with a maddening confidence that was supposed to be reassuring, yet still left the deputy headmistress with a raised eyebrow.

Albus apologized for his absence of late as he was away from the school a great deal in his role as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Given last year's Halloween, Minerva's already tight lips formed a grim frown as she pondered what might go wrong this year. She knew that measures were in place - that the tension in the room was mostly due to the preparations for tonight. Preparing for some form of attack staged for this night had occupied most of the last few weeks. They were as ready as they were going to be.

She consoled herself that she had arranged for someone to look out for the Granger girl, after everything the child had been through the professor wasn't going to go back on her promise to watch out for the potential prodigy. Minerva McGonagall had no use for the poppycock of divination, but she was not going to ignore that 'gut feeling' which told her that the enemy was specifically targeting the girl.

.o0o.

Emotionally spent, Jean leaned against the window, trying not to think too much about all that had transpired in the last hours. She was truly glad that she was riding through to the end of the line as she doubted she would have recognized that they'd stopped a half dozen times. She knew one thing had come of unburdening herself of all, of all the long held hurt.

The time she had spent with Sarah had left her exhausted in one sense, and yet deep inside she felt energized. It was as if the tiredness that had been leeching at her heart had been washed away by her confession to the stranger who took the time to care and listen.

Jean was at peace, genuinely at ease for the first time in, well, she didn't know exactly how long.

A voice in the back of her head scolded her that she ought not to feel at ease when her mother lay dead. Jean reviewed the thought, considered and analyzed it. It was the negative voice, the one that always seemed to be looking for trouble. Of course she felt terrible that Mum was dead - yet at the same time the young woman's long-dormant beliefs spoke up loudly and told her that Mum was in a better place. Those beliefs also taught her that forgiving – even herself, maybe especially herself – was crucial to living life.

'Where did that come from?' Her eyes squinted, then she shook it off. Yes, she'd been raised in the church, but neither she nor her dad had stayed with it regularly once Mum had fallen ill.

Shrugging both mentally and physically, Jean took a deep breath and held it, then let it out slowly. She repeated this twice more before she shook her head, realizing she was doing the exercises the counselor had taught her just that morning, after she learned about...

She closed her eyes, focusing once again on her breathing. Inwardly shrugging again, her practical self proclaimed 'well, it seems to be working'. As for her sudden deep thoughts on religion, the subject seemed to raise so many more questions than answers right now, then again, you didn't lose your - 'stop!'

"Last stop! London Station" rang out through the bus. Jean held on as the massive vehicle executed a final tight turn, her thoughts switching gears as the bus lurched to a stop. The doors opened and the two dozen or so passengers began the process of filing out into the bustling station.

Checking her watch, she saw that the bus was right on time. She scanned the crowd out the windows but the odd tint combined with the interior lighting made everyone out in the station seem eerily blurred; like how she imagined a ghost would appear. She filed towards the exit with the last few people, trying to keep her unwieldy case balanced as she walked down the steps.

Jean was wrapped in her dad's arms as soon as she cleared the step. The earlier feelings of peace seemed to amplify as her small frame was engulfed in the rare hug. The familiar smells of Dad permeated her senses and brought happier memories to mind, setting aside once again any misgivings of why she was here.

His tight embrace was released and she looked up to see an equally tight smile on his face. It was a bittersweet reunion, yet she tried to convey in her small answering smile the love she felt for her dad.

The clench of his jaw seemed to relax and he leaned his forehead to hers in a move that brought bittersweet memories of getting tucked in after prayers. Sure enough he followed it up by laying an exaggerated 'smack' of a kiss upon her forehead. Father and daughter smiled genuine smiles at each other.

They had no more time than that for greetings as he took up her case and the pair of them turned towards the stairs. She had conveyed the schedule to him over the phone, yet the ever-organized daughter had made sure he had the route written out in detail as well. Pulling out the paper for his benefit, the pair reviewed the route as they moved. They needed to walk quickly across the station, take a subway, then another few-blocks walking to get the Bedford bus stop and on to home.

They never noticed the continued presence of the dark-clad fellow that followed in their wake.

.o0o.

Albus watched his deputy as she paced. Darkness had fallen and they both knew the attacks would begin tonight, though she once again had to take his word for it. They both glanced at the fireplace at odd intervals.

"Holding the feast early hasn't backfired too badly..." The sharp look from the woman as she strode back from the doorway answered the old man's attempt at levity.

Standing before him, Minerva McGonagall stood ramrod straight and peered down at the sitting wizard. "They bairns ur in danger, dozens, mibbie hundreds or mair , 'n' ye'r making jokes?"

She whirled around, her feet resuming their task as the stern eyes were drawn worriedly to the flames again. The Chief Warlock had many talents, and knowing when to keep his mouth shut was an important one to the old politician/judge/professor. When his deputy's brogue slipped out that harshly was definitely one of those times.

.o0o.

The single bench at the stop was full, though it hardly mattered as the Grangers had just caught their breath when the last bus home screeched to a halt. It was an ancient specimen and its rumbling engine noise battled with its noxious fumes for most disagreeable feature. Still, it was that or walk several dozen blocks in rapidly worsening weather.

Once on the bus they had just settled in for the ride when Jean felt an uncomfortable roil in her tummy just as the engine died. The heavy old machine drifted to a stop not a block from where they had boarded. A collective groan went up, and Jean glanced about to see mostly middle class folk, likely wanting to get home from work. A ragged cheer met the engine's roar back to life, but the inquisitive young woman was not encouraged as she saw the driver shrug at its return to operation.

A reassuring grasp of her arm brought her attention back to her dad. Giving a small smile she moved her hand to his, returning the squeeze of his hand. She left her small hand in his and saw the smile tug at his lips. They hadn't been close like this for a long time, she realized with another guilty pang.

Quashing the regret, the bushy-haired girl decided to be there for her dad. She knew that she had to talk to him, not just 'be strong' for him. Mentally she understood that she had to open up. Logically she grasped the concept, but putting her emotions out there was another matter altogether, even with her father.

Jean frowned, her musings interrupted as she felt the strange sensation pass through her once more. Simultaneously the lights within the long vehicle began to flicker and the engine died once again. The collective groan returned, a few angry mutters added for flavor. The driver managed to get the bus to the curb, but this time there was no magical return to life for the loud diesel engine.

A few harsh coughs filled the silence as they sat. A couple had immediately left the bus, apparently close enough to their stop that they would rather walk in the drizzling rain than wait for who knows how long.

The bus driver had called in on the radio and was waiting for instructions when once again the engine sputtered back to life, then seemed to settle down.

What bothered Jean was that once again she felt the strange pulse down her spine. A feeling of mild discomfort settled in her stomach as her mind seemed to be picking at a long-lost memory. It was slightly maddening as she had no idea what was going on around her or in her own skin. The earlier feelings of peace were quickly turning into discomfort, but not of the same variety as had haunted her through the last few weeks.

Jean exchanged a raised-eyebrows look with her dad as they listened to the driver trying to explain to someone on the radio that he had no idea what was going on, and yes, they had fuel and yes, the maintenance schedule was complete, and so on. Finally, somewhat exasperated, the driver shifted into gear and they were once again moving.

The lights continued to flicker oddly and Jean's physical discomfort rose as the odd tingles continued to crawl up and down her spine.

Then one of the passengers became belligerent, demanding to be let off the bus, claiming it was broken and raising all manner of fuss about the state of this and that and everything between.

Since they were between stops the driver tried to holler back to ask the man to wait. Jean didn't look to the back to see who was causing the trouble but she felt her dad tensing next to her. The man became louder, ringing the bell again and again, demanding to be let off.

The driver had little choice, and pulled over to the next corner with enough room. The rude bloke actually had the nerve to complain about the location, claiming it was a bad neighborhood and demanding that the driver go on a few more blocks.

This happened once more until they finally came to a scheduled stop. They were further delayed as the troublemaker claimed this wasn't his stop! Finally the driver put the bus in park, walked to the back of the bus and had a few words with the fellow. Soon the large, darkly dressed miscreant was escorted off of the bus but not before he caught Jean's eye.

He seemed to look at her as though he knew her, and yet she was quite certain she'd never seen him before. A bit unnerved, she was glad to see him gone, and said as much to her dad who found the statement odd for his usually quiet girl, though under the circumstances he quietly agreed.

The bus hadn't made it half a block before Jean felt another surge through her body and the bus sputtered and died once again. This time the lights were off as well and even the radio was dead. A dapperly dressed older man pulled a large portable phone from his case but found it was dead, too.

With a slow, steady rain outside, the dark bus held many of the occupants for another ten minutes. This time however the bus seemed to have finally and truly quit.

"I've fare for a cab, it's miserable out there."

Jean turned and could see by the glow of streetlamp that her dad was looking for a response, she hadn't realized it was a question. "Well, I do have an extra umbrella." she answered with a small smile at her preparedness. "How far is it? I can't tell where we are in this gloom."

Her dad returned shortly from conferring with the driver. "Ten more blocks to the stop, two from there to home. We can cut diagonally through the park and save quite a bit though." It seemed his mind was made up as he helped Jean to her feet. Turning to the driver as they approached, Jean thought her dad's tone was sympathetic, unlike some of the grumps that had already left. "We'll get out here, sir."

The pair stepped out into the wet night with simple black umbrellas shielding most of the light rain as the wind was fairly calm.

Considering the walk ahead, Jean was trying to find the right words, mostly trying to deduce where she should begin. Her dad didn't seem big on conversation tonight and they trekked along silently for a while, skirting the outside of the park which allowed them to cut through two blocks. Memories of the park were not generally good, she'd mostly stopped going as being bullied in school was bad enough without seeking it after class and on weekends.

Clearing the park they turned up a sidewalk, staying near a tall fence that nicely blocked the small breeze. Walking with her arm in her dad's, Jean had almost completed her opening statement and first three follow ups.

.o0o.

The headmaster stood slowly and walked to large ornate fireplace, warming his hands briefly before meeting his old friends gaze. He had considered his deputy's words before. Several times now they had had this conversation, though it had become more of a dressing down with the dreaded night finally upon them. "You are right, of course. I'm sorry. We will know when it begins, and then we will do what we can. I realize there is a madman out there and I can only ask you to trust me when I tell you that it cannot be Lord Voldemort."

If anything the response seemed to draw more ire from the primly dressed witch. "We," she spat, "should have done something when I told you what the Unspeakables said." Turning fully to face him she stabbed one hand towards the fiery portal. "We' could have saved them already. You knew that these reports were accessible to their spies. You knew that these children would be targeted, that she in particular wid offend thair sicht o' purity!" She rounded and practically shouted into the room at large, "It does nae maiter whit th' name o' this newest mirk laird is or whit he calls his-sel!"

Wincing, the aged man stepped back towards his desk. She was right in many ways but yet the issue of when to move was much more complex than the normally restrained woman wanted to acknowledge. As deputy headmistress Minerva knew all about the plans, responses and contingency plans. Standing next to his massive seat of power Albus also knew that logically working through those ideas was much different from waiting for the...

The roar of the fireplace cut off their respective thoughts as they turned to see the orange flames turn a bright blue then settle down to a dark green. Minerva gasped as Albus fairly leaped into flames, though she was on his heels a heartbeat later.

.o0o.

Jean was jerked from her thoughts as her dad stopped in his tracks and pulled her forcibly behind him. There was barely enough time for her to consider that she'd once again felt that tingle up her spine when her dad spoke, but not to her.

"Just what do you want? Money? We've only a few pounds but you can have it if you'll just move on." His voice was harsh, carrying a menacing undertone that Jean couldn't believe came from her dad at all. His grip was just shy of painful, unyielding in a way that again brought no frame of reference in all of Jean's experience with her father.

She stuck her head out around his body to see the troublemaker from the bus. The man's long dark hair fell unruly about his head, his large frame was covered in a heavy black coat, more like a robe. He stared not at her father, but right into the eyes of the girl sheltering behind him. The look in his gaze was a strange mix of feral anger and indignation, as if he'd been insulted. 'Great, the man is crazy and is probably going to mug us.' Jean wondered why a mugger would be wearing such fine clothes, they were almost vintage...

Shuddering, she forced her mind into action – 'what to do in case of a mugging?' Taking in her surroundings, Jean observed that they were between houses but not in the alley proper. Tall fence-rows blocked much of the view this side of the street but the other side was lined with sidewalks that led up to a nice row of homes – who gets mugged here? They were in the suburbs for goodness sakes!

When no reply was forthcoming Jean felt herself being led into the street, her dad was heading them towards the opposite side where the harsh blue-white streetlamp bathed the area in secure-seeming light.

"You can't go home. They've been waiting for you." The large man spoke in a calm, smooth voice which was much in conflict with his fierce visage. A quick glance showed Jean that the crazy man hadn't moved, yet he continued to stare at them - or rather, it seemed, just at her.

"Listen, I…" Jean's dad stopped talking, in fact he stopped in his tracks and seemed to sway in place a moment before standing completely still. Looking from her dad to the mugger, Jean saw that the strange man was now pointing a stick at them.

The crazy mugger continued to speak in that maddeningly calm, deep voice. "Minerva said you were a smart girl so listen carefully Hermione Jean Granger." His eyes were intense, the stick was still in his hand, his words were now urgent, forceful. "You've got trouble waiting for you at home, they've found you."

Jean didn't need to hear any more. She had no idea what he had done to her dad but this Crazy looking man was saying Crazy sounding things and she was scared!

So she screamed. "FIRE!" Taking a deep breath, she really let loose, "HELP! FIRE" - she spun in place, belting out for all she was worth, "FIIIRRRRE!"

Turning full circle she checked on the man's position, ready to pull her dad towards the streetlamp, but the dark stranger was still just standing there. He was even smiling!

"Go ahead and scream Hermione, let me know when you are well and done. You're safe 'nuff here for a moment more and I'd just as soon you did not panic the others."

Regardless of the rational tone he seemed to be so fond of, his words made no sense. Instead of calming her, they twisted around and confused her. Jean Hated being confused!

So she screamed some more. Rational thought be damned, this was freaking her out! Why wasn't her dad moving!? Why was this maniac just standing there grinning at her!? Switching out of her internal debate, Jean let loose with another screamed question: "WHY ISN'T ANYONE COMING OUT OF THEIR HOUSES?"

Wait - why wasn't her voice echoing down the street?

A strange calm fell over the young woman. Realizing that the logical response to her actions was not working, Jean pushed everything else aside, considering her next move as calmly as she could.

It was difficult, with her pulse pounding in her ears and a complete stranger calling her by name and talking nonsense, but she forced herself to think practically, to search her logical mind for some rational explanation for these completely irrational events.

This calm persisted for about ten seconds.

'I can't run to a house as that would leave Dad with the crazy guy. I have no experience fighting and this man is big, and scary looking and... and why the hell isn't Dad moving?' A cold feeling took hold in her core, none of this made any sense!

Her mind clamped down again on the useless fear. Jean forced a few deep breaths and fell back to trying to think of what to do next. 'Buy some time, yes, that's good!' She had to talk to the crazy man, to get him to slip up and make some kind of sense. Jean tried to think of a question to pose to the man. A quick glance confirmed he was idling in the street still.

Her debate classes taught her never to ask a question she did not have the answer to. Mind whirling, Jean tried desperately to form a question that she wanted to hear the answer to – let alone one to which she had any clue as to the answer.

"Ok, uh… who… who is uhm…" 'What? Who is waiting at our house? Wait, how did this man get here ahead of us… How did he know where we were going?' Jean knew that she was losing the battle between logic and panic. Fortunately the man seemed to somehow pick up her questions from her babble.

"My name is Sirius Black. I knew where you were going because I've been tasked to follow you by a friend of mine named Minerva McGonagall. She told me to tell you: 'Remember the cat'."

He smiled a disarming smile and it quite suddenly occurred to Jean that she was holding the small cat statue in her hand, with the umbrella – her other hand was once again locked on her dad's motionless arm. Memories of the witch and her promise came back and she rubbed the little cat furiously while she awaited the miraculous rescue from the fairy tale witch... or the other shoe to drop. She didn't have to wait long for a response, though it was not at all what she was hoping for.

"We found out that you had been targeted, that if you went home as scheduled then you'd be dead right now, that's why I delayed your bus. Hermione, you and your father are in danger."

With that, as if on cue, an unnatural scream resounded through the dreary night, followed quickly by a heavy 'Thump'. Jean could feel the air ripple with - something. Something terrible, like and yet totally unlike the feelings she'd been having all day, especially since her talk with Sarah. Jean vaguely mused that the talk with the kind woman seemed to have happened days ago instead of less than an hour.

Once again Jean was torn from her thoughts as a bloom of orange shot into the air, illuminating a horrid visage floating in jet-black smoke. The flicker of flames played upon the terrifying sight of a snake slithering through a huge skull. Jean's mind picked up the many visual cues and suddenly came to a terrible and instinctual realization. That horrid cloud was in the direction of her home. One glance at her immobile dad and her head began to throb as she panicked. "Our Home Is On Fire! Dad!? How do I... What do I do?" Her father's motionless form provided no answers as the snake continued to writhe in the sky even as the flames slowly died down.

The calm, dark, crazy mugger had finally moved, yet Jean looked helplessly at the grotesque symbol over what she now knew was her home. Used to be her home.

She was trying to deny what she increasingly felt was true: this was about her... other difference.

Thinking again of the cat, she felt vaguely reassured that it was still in her hand. If only to have something to hold onto, she tried to keep it out of view from the man. She continued to rub the statuette even as the relief of it's presence warred with the rational part of her brain that simply wanted to deny that any of this was real. A strange sense of calm seemed to settle on her when she rubbed the figurine, yet she refused to give any considered thoughts as to why, let alone wondering what she expected to happen.

The man now stood before her. He was speaking, but all Jean could do was rub the figurine, rub and stare, stare at the snake and the skull and the orange glow at the base of the smokey symbol. The orange glow of her house on fire.

A feeble attempt to work out what all of this meant fought with the dull ache in her head while a high pitched whine seemed to blot out all noise.

Jean came to a measure of awareness when the man grabbed her hand and placed it on a small length of rope. Her eyes followed the rope to find that her dad's hand was being held to the other end. 'He's tying us up in the street?'

The thought hadn't even fully formed before it was discarded - even as she felt the most extraordinary sensation in the pit of her stomach.

The tug was startling and for a moment Jean really wanted to be sick. Instead she picked herself up, not even aware of how she was knocked down. She was disoriented and confused, her senses on overload. She could see, though what she beheld just added to the questions; somehow she was in an old, dark, museum-like house. Her sense of smell seemed to come back with a vengeance and it was not a pleasant change from the wet street as musty and moth-balls joined a dozen unknown sharp and pungent scents to assault her mind.

Then she could hear again, the whine was finally gone, but her head continued to ache horribly. Jean was still rubbing the figurine as she was gently being led by the elbow through an old-fashioned foyer and into a more serviceable looking, brightly lit kitchen. The young woman absently noted a few others in the room, including children who were either eating at the large table or staring, either at her or... just staring. She supposed she was staring as well. The shell-shocked young woman could hardly bother to consider herself rude.

An older woman in a nurse's outfit bustled up and began waving another stick at her. Jean flinched from the object that she remembered from the dark man, and suddenly she was frantically looking for her dad.

"Daddy!?" She cried out, trying to bat away the stick and pull away from the hand on her arm she hadn't realized was there. She turned in place to see her dad walk right past her, though his movements were jerky and uncoordinated. He sat down with a thump and Jean saw the dark man in the doorway. He was lowering one of those sticks. Somehow her attention became riveted to what she could only grasp as the cause of all this...

The crazy mugger, or kidnapper, or whatever he was, was staring at her again. His previously calm demeanor now appeared tired. The bright lights brought out worry lines and up close she could see that his face was drenched in sweat, though his clothes appeared strangely untouched by the rain. Jean was pulled from further study of the fascinating subject of how dry her kidnapper's - for that's how she was coming to see him - overcoat was when the nurse spoke.

The Latin words "Finite Incantatem" were pronounced, and the nurse moved one of those sticks to accompany the phrase - although part of Jean's mind considered the Latin meanings, briefly. Mostly she watched her father.

Then her dad slumped a bit before his eyes bugged out and he jumped up from the chair to grab hold of his daughter. The tight hug from the bus station was no match for the fierce grip he engulfed her in now. The smells of rain added to those uniquely 'Dad' and Jean finally let go of all pretense of self-control.

All of this, whatever was happening, it was just too much. For the second time on that same terrible, emotionally exhausting day Jean began to weep without restraint.

.o0o.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed chapters 1-4, I truly appreciate your feedback and will continue to answer each signed review by PM.
Unfortunately I cannot continue to answer anonymous reviews. Though I will take into consideration anything you wish to share that way, it makes my A/N's grow into mini-chapters to try to give even cursory answers to each anonymous poster. Accounts are free - and after several years as a member I've never gotten spam from the site.

Recommended reading is another fic with a strong Hermione presence. The Strange Disappearance of SallyAnne Perks by Paimpont. It's a fun story that will take you on an enjoyable ride through Hogwart's lore...

Thanks once again for reading, please take a moment to review. Your encouragement is appreciated and your comments help make me come back to share what's next.

Also, I beg forgiveness for Minerva's brogue ( more to the point, my pathetic attempt thereof )

Thank you for all of the follows and favorites!

Thanks specifically to hp. fan. forever, WhenTheWorldEnded, Sydell, Thirst4light, nikyta, saris305 and Anonymous for your reviews of chapter 4.

Blessings,
Majerus