DISCLAIMER: I am not profiting from this story in any way, and only the plot is mine in the first place.
POST DATE: November 6, 2007
CHAPTER 4: Far Off Visits and Terrible Truths
It was hours before Harry finally fell into a fitful sleep. Tossing and turning almost continuously, he awoke several times from various nightmares, most involving fields of dead corpses as far as the eyes could see, coated in a sheen of sweat and breathing in hard, ragged breaths. He found no relief from his troubles in the world of reality, however; the guilt from his actions the previous night towards his best mate, combined with the guilt he felt for what he knew Voldemort had unleashed on the masses of defenseless muggles would crash down around him, making him feel suffocated.
The fourth time this happened, Harry rolled over to his nightstand, grabbing and looking at his watch, wanting to determine if putting himself through any more torture was even worth it. 'Ughh, 3:47, just early enough that I can't get out of bed without ruining the rest of my bloody day,' he thought. Putting his watch back down, he sat up, straightened his blankets back over his body, rolled over and drifted back into a fitful slumber.
Just minutes after he fell asleep, Harry felt his body awake yet again, though he had not yet opened his eyes. Feeling an incredible amount of frustration, he lifted his fist to slam it into his bed, and became understandably surprised when his knuckles collided with soft earth rather than his mattress. Opening his eyes, he quickly shut them back up, as sunlight burned his widely dilated pupils. After taking a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the bright light, he once again ventured a look at his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was that he was no longer in his room; indeed, he was no longer even inside a house. Instead, his soft bed appeared to have been exchanged for a patch of ground that separated two rows of tall corn stalks.
Rising to his feet, Harry looked up to see a cloudless blue sky, and couldn't shake the feeling that he had been to this place before, even though his mind couldn't figure out quite when or why. Looking down at himself, he saw that he was still clad in his pajamas, and that his feet where quite bare. Peering at his surroundings, he saw that the only thing within his field of vision not sporting an ear of corn was a small smudge of smoke off in the distance. Figuring that he may be able to find some answers from the owner of the fire, he set off, being careful not to step on any sharp or jagged rocks in the process.
After about ten minutes of walking with his head down, Harry started talking quietly to himself, attempting to decipher his current situation. "This has to be a dream. I don't care how real it feels, it just has to be a dream." So wrapped up in his own self-conversation was he that he did not even notice when he passed beyond the last row of corn and began making his way up to what he would soon see as a rather familiar looking small home, with an even more familiar looking old woman perched on her rocking chair, eyeing him contemplatively.
"Well, I hate to disappoint you child, but this ain't no dream, Lord Jesus no," said the old woman.
Almost jumping out of his own skin, Harry let out a small gasp as the quiet around him was interrupted, making him stop in his tracks. Looking first at the house, then around the yard, his eyes finally settled on the old woman, and memories began rapidly floating to him from his subconscious. "I…I know you. I mean, I've seen you before. Your name is…Mother…Alice?" he questioned.
Laughing at his startled response, she finally responded, "No sir, but you're close. M'name is Abigail Freemantle, but folks around these parts just call me Mother Abigail. I'm the oldest person around here, over a hundred, yes sir. But I don't let that slow me down, good Lord no. Why, I still make m'own biscuits!" Harry saw that she finished this last part with a rather proud look on her face.
"Now, I'm not tellin' you what to do or nothin', but you might consider sittin' down, child. It ain't good for you to be carryin' around all that weight on your feet."
Looking around himself for a moment, Harry decided that he must have heard the woman wrong. Just as he was about to ask her to say that last bit again, she smiled and cut him off. "No, child, you heard me right. The weight you carryin' can't be seen by nobody but the good Lord Jesus. But that don't mean it ain't there. It's a right good shame, too, 'cause it's not somethin' you need to be carryin' around, neither. O'course, you can't see that, an' until you do, your jus' gonna keep on carryin' it around wit' you."
Finally feeling like he understood what she was saying, Harry's face took on a stony expression as he crossed his arms and retorted, "Why shouldn't I feel guilty? That…evil, evil man is killing all the muggles all over the world, and there's nothing I or any of my friends can do about it. Why, we're not even trying, though, are we? No, we're just hiding up in that damn house, trying to pretend that the world's not dieing around us!" So livid was he as he finished that small pieces of spit where flying through his clenched teeth.
Setting down the needlework that she had been working on, Abigail grabbed her cane and slowly, painfully, rose out of her rocker, then hobbled over to stand on the steps of the porch, mere feet from her young guest. "Now that's enough of that, child! Did you let that devil be born? Did you? No, child, only God can create a man, an' only he knows why! So stop tryin' to take credit for the Lord's work, it's blaspheme!"
Hearing this surprisingly powerful outburst from such an unlikely source gave Harry pause. Letting the words she spoke roll through his mind like a wave, he finally ducked his head down and softly said, "I'm sorry, Mother Abigail. It's just that…it's just…I don't know what to do!" At this, his head snapped up, and his eyes pleaded with her for guidance. "Everything is going to fall apart so fast, I mean, it's already starting. People are going to be looking for me to lead them, and I have absolutely no idea what I'm supposed to tell them. It just seems like every time I make a decision, it's the wrong one, and people get hurt for it." After he finished, he once again hung his head, a tear rolling from his eyes, thinking of Sirius.
Smiling slightly, her face taking on a knowing look, Abigail responded, "When I was jus' a child, no bigger'n you," Harry chuckled slightly, since she wasstill no bigger than he was, "my Mammy use to teach me how to make m'buscuits. One day, I put in a batch an' then got me a distraction. Well, o'course m'biscuits burnt, an' I started cryin', 'cause I ruined breakfast. Now, seein' the state I was in, Mammy took me aside and told me, 'You can't be cryin' over no spilt milk, child. What's done is done, an' you have to get pas' it or you'll never learn from it.' Well, I heard what she said, an' I marched myself right back to that stove, an' made me another batch o'biscuits, an' by God I ain't never let a batch o'biscuit burn since then!"
Hearing Abigail's conclusion, Harry raised his head and looked her in the eyes. "But, I'm not talking about some silly biscuits, here; I'm talking about people's lives." He wasn't sure what reaction to this he was going to get, but what she did do hadn't even registered as a possibility. She laughed.
"Goodness gracious, child, it don't matter! It's the same point." Seeing his skeptical look, she continued. "If you can't let go of the mistakes you made in the pas', then they're jus' gonna sit on your shoulders forever. But, if you accept your wrongs, an' learn from them, then you won't make them again, will you?"
Not giving him a chance to respond, she quickly changed the subject. "Now, child, we ain't got but hardly any time lef', an' I got some important things to tell you. You already know about the hard times comin', but you need to be ready, 'cause you're gonna have to make some hard choices real soon. Don't worry about them, though, jus' follow what the good Lord puts in your heart, an' you won't go wrong." Before continuing, Harry noticed her face change to a look of pure loathing. "Be careful though, child, 'cause they're rats in the corn, an' the rats is his!"
As though it was happening in rapid motion, a dark cloud suddenly rolled over the sun, blocking the once bright light and making the view considerably darker. Turning his head to look in the direction her eyes were gazing, Harry saw that the ground in the cornfield was covered with rats, and when he looked up, he saw a pair of red, burning eyes deep amongst the stalks, staring at him. Eyes he had seen before on more than one occasion. Suddenly, he found himself becoming extremely uncomfortable, and wished very badly that he was away from this frightening place.
Turning back to Abigail, he saw the look of determination in her eyes as she said, "There ain't no time, child. You got to leave now, but before you do, I need to tell you somethin'. Once the storm passes, you come an' see me, child, you an' all your friends. Right now, I'm in Polk County, Nebraska, but I can't be waitin' long. God done tol' me to get as many of us to safety as possible. Right now, the devil, he don' know where I am, but that ain't gonna las' for long, Lord Jesus no."
Just as he was opening his mouth to respond, Harry got an odd sensation, almost similar to that of a portkey, but not as strong. Suddenly, his surroundings began to fade around him. As she drifted to blackness, Harry heard Mother Abigail say one last time, "Don't forget to come see me, now, an' bring all your friends!"
The next moment, Harry's eyes flew wide open, and he saw that he was once again lying in his own bed at Grimmauld Place, though it would take his mind several more minutes to feel like it had arrived, as well.
About the same time Harry was making his visit to a Nebraska cornfield, another member of the British magical community, someone he knew quite well, was making a visit of their own. Upon opening his eyes, he too had to shield himself from the brightness of the sun.
'Strange,' he thought, 'this is definitely not where I went to sleep. Must be a dream, though it certainly feels real enough.'
Finally adjusting to the light, he was able to see that, rather than lying in his own bed, he now appeared to be standing in the middle of a muggle blacktop road. Looking all around, he saw that he was apparently surrounded by nothing but desert and dead-looking scrub brush. Waves of heat could be seen radiating in the distance, which cued him in to the fact that, wherever this place was, it was very, very hot.
Suddenly, he heard a bird caw several times, the loud noise startling him enough to nearly make him fall over. Turning around to investigate the source of this annoyance, his eyes were instantly drawn to a large, pitch-black raven, which was situated along a stripe of yellow paint in the middle of the road, no more than ten feet from where he stood. Though he could not quite understand why, the sight of this bird made his blood run cold with fear.
"It's impolite to stare, you know," stated a mocking voice from behind, startling the young man once again. "Nice 'jammies, by the way," he laughed out.
Slowly turning to meet the owner of this voice, he was suddenly filled with a sense of inexplicable dread, as though he knew without a doubt that he was about to die. Beginning to shake slightly, the young man took in the sight before him. He recognized his sudden companion almost immediately; Caucasian, average height, wearing worn cowboy boots, dusty denim pants and a jean jacket. Looking at his face, he could see an almost feral quality, and when the man smiled, it sent a shiver down his spine. No matter how hard he tried, he could not quite make himself look this man in the eyes.
"I-I know who y-you are, or at l-least who you work for. What's your name, and why have you brought me here?" the young man asked, puffing out his chest slightly and praying that he looked more brave than he currently felt.
Laughing for a few minutes, the man finally answered, "Well, well, well, he has a backbone after all! My master told me that you could be counted on as a weakling, but I can see now that you're not afraid of me at all, right? Well that's a shame, because," and with suddenness that the young man was wholly unprepared for, the jeans clad man before him disappeared and reappeared mere inches from his face and growled menacingly, "you should be."
Seeing the young man begin to stutter incoherently let the man know that he had garnered his attention. "Shut up!" he said, then backhanded his terrified counterpart across the cheek. After the young man reestablished his stance, the man smiled before continuing, "Good, now that I've got your attention, let's get down to business, shall we?
"To answer your first question, I've been known by many names in many places, although most simply know me as 'The Walking Dude.' Since you and I have become such great friends," he said, wrapping his arm around the young man's shoulders and pulling him in tightly, "you can call me Flagg. Randall Flagg." This last line he said in what any muggle might have recognized as a poor attempt at a Sean Connery imitation.
Though Flagg seemed to be showing quite a sense of humor, the young man felt little like laughing. As far as Flagg was concerned, however, that was perfectly understandable. "Getting to your second question, you've been brought here because you're lucky enough to have very important connections, connections which my master feels would be beneficial to take advantage of. In short, because of who you know, my master wants to use you to accomplish a little…task."
Finally finding his voice, the young man asked weakly, "I-I know wh-who y-your m-m-master is! Why w-would I w-want to help h-him?"
Smiling brightly, Flagg answered in an oddly jovial voice, "Well, mainly because if you don't, I'll kill ya! But also, there will be…benefits involved with your having made the correct choice."
"Benefits? What kind of benefits?"
Sounding strangely like a game show host, Flagg said, "Why, I do believe he's interested in what's behind door number one! Let's take a look, shall we? The main benefit is that you'll still be alive, of course, but wait, there's more! Added to your survival will be what you've always sought after, power! More power than you'd ever thought possible! Why, accomplish what my master wishes, and you'll take a place amongst his closest of confidants, and your word will be thunderous amongst the people. That oughta teach all those sniveling do-gooders who've tried to bring you down over the years, right? Play your cards right, and you might even get the opportunity topersonally ensure that those who have disrespected you in the past no longer make the same mistake!"
Flagg knew he had him by the lusty spark in his eyes. Rather than push the boy, though, he waited. After a few moments, he heard words that were music to his ears. "This task, is it big?"
"Why, my boy, it'sooooonnlllyy the single most important thing that needs to be done during this entire war! Why, if you complete your mission right, you'll not only be a major help to my master, but you'll even be saving thousands of lives! Witches and wizards everywhere will be clamoring to name a holiday in your honor. Anybody who gazes upon you will do so lovingly, yet also with a certain amount of fear. People will think 'there goes a powerful man, an important man.' Who knows, they might even bow before you. And all you need to do is accept this little, tiny mission I have for you."
The young man, by now not even attempting to hide his hopeful expression, excitedly asked, "What must I do to have all that you just said? Tell me, I'll do anything."
"My boy, you've just made the wisest decision of your young life. For now, though, all that we ask is that you be patient. Keep your eyes and ears open, and listen for any information that we might like to know. When the time is right, we will contact you with the particulars of your assignment. Until then, keep a sharp head about you, and for God's sake, get some new 'jammies, those look like their a hundred years old!"
Laughing heartily as he concluded their meeting, Flagg reached out his hand to shake his companion's. Taking the older man's hand, the young man felt a sudden jolt of electricity flow throughout his body, just before everything faded quickly to black, his last sight being a pair of ominous red eyes. Opening his own eyes, he saw that he was once again in his room, laid out in his own bed.
Remembering the details of his 'dream', a small smile played out across his lips as he thought, 'Finally, I'll get what I deserve.' Looking over to his clock, he saw that it was almost time to get up for the day anyway, so he got out of bed and made for the shower with a noticeable spring to his step.
Knock, knock, knock.
Moaning groggily, Hermione rolled over and checked her bedside alarm clock. 'Merlin, 6:30? What could possibly be so important at 6:30 in the morning?' she thought to herself.
"Yeah?" was her muffled, groggy response, her head still buried in her pillow.
"Hermione, dear, I'm leaving for the practice. I just wanted you to know that your father has woken up a bit ill this morning and will be staying home from work today." Concluding this statement, she opened her daughter's bedroom door and stepped half way in. "Please be a dear and swing by the local shop and pick up some cold and flu medicine when you get up."
Rolling over and sitting up straight rather suddenly, Hermione asked with a startled expression, "Daddy's sick? Is he alright? Should we get a doctor? Can he-"
Seeing the all too recognizable runaway train of questions erupting from her sometimes paranoid daughter, Caroline Granger quickly interrupted, "Hermione please, he's fine, just a bit under the weather. You know, coughing, sneezing, bit of a fever; normal cold things. A spot of Nyquil and some old fashioned bed rest should have him good as new by tomorrow morning. Do you need any money for the store?"
"No Mum, I've got some pocket money in my purse. Thanks for asking, though," Hermione replied, visibly relaxing and lying back down on her bed.
Smirking slightly as she decided to play a bit, Caroline added, "You know dear, you really shouldn't get yourself so worked up about everything. Why, I hate to see what you'll be like once you and that redheaded boy eventually get married, you may not even let him leave the house for fear that he'll catch a cold. Now, what was his name again, oh, it's so hard to remember, what with how little you talk about him and all…" As she finished, she began tapping her index finger to her chin, staring off in mock deep thought.
"MUUUUM!" yelled the now crimson faced young woman. "I've told you a million times now, Ronald and I are not like that, we're just friends!"
Smiling brightly and walking over to where her daughter was resting, Caroline leaned over and planted a short kiss on her forehead. With a knowing look, she remarked in a tone that implied that she was playing along, "Right, dear. Pardon me, I forgot." Finished with her bit of morning fun, she turned on the spot and headed out the door, leaving a fully awake, though still slightly exacerbated, daughter alone in her room.
A few moments later, Hermione heard the tell-tale clicking of the front door being locked from the outside, and she knew that her mother had left for the day. 'Well, no point in going back to sleep now, might as well get up and put on a spot of breakfast, see if Daddy will eat anything,' she thought.
Stepping out of bed and into her slippers, she quickly retrieved her dressing gown from its hanger on the wall, securely cinched it closed, checked herself in her door-side mirror (huffing mightily at her large frizz of morning bed-hair), then stepped out into the hall and made her way to her parents bedroom.
Seeing that the door was already left partially open, Hermione knocked quietly and stuck her head in, seeing her father rolled on his side facing away from her. "Daddy? How are you feeling? I'm going to make us some breakfast, do you want anything particular?"
Rolling over, Hermione immediately noticed the signs of the flu, from his pasty, clammy skin, to the dark circles under his eyes. Opening his mouth, she noticed with some dissatisfaction that he was prematurely interrupted by a rather nasty coughing spell. Finally regaining control, he smiled and replied, "Oh, 'Mione, you Mum told me she'd ask you to look in on me. Don't worry about you're old Dad, though, I really cough feel cough, cough fine."
Walking fully into the room, she stopped just short of the bed and placed her hands on her hips, her face changing from concern to determination. "Don't you go trying to act all tough with me, mister. It is quite obvious that you are not feeling fine at all. Now, I'll ask you again, do you want anything particular for breakfast?"
If he listened closely, Edward Granger was positive that he would hear the light tapping of her foot as she waited. Smiling more inwardly than outwardly, he rolled on his back, interlocked his fingers behind his head and said, "My, my, where would I be without the women in my life? How could I possibly survive the craziness that surrounds us all?"
Knowing she was being made fun of, Hermione smirked and lightly shoved her father's elbow, then reached out and placed her palm on her father's forehead. "Indeed, Daddy, indeed. Oh my, you really do feel quite warm. After I get you fed, I think I'll just make a quick trip down to the corner shop and pick up some medicine." Smiling brightly, she finished, "You know, the really nasty tasting type you and Mum used to make me take."
"Yuck. How can you possibly think of taking advantage of my lowly state to exact revenge, I ask you? And here I thought that you loved me." Hearing her laughter, he finished by adding, "Now, that's the smiling beauty I know and love. To answer your question, I think I'll just keep it light this morning, maybe just some toast, orange juice and a banana. I suppose the vitamins will to me good. Oh, and maybe a couple aspirin as well. I think all this coughing is giving me a headache."
"Alright, Daddy." Looking around the room, she added, "Do you want me to set up a blanket and pillow for you on the couch downstairs, so you can watch the telly?"
"Yes, that would be very nice. I think I'll make my way there while you're preparing the food. Thank you, dear."
"It's no problem, Daddy; I just want to make sure you get better. I'll see you downstairs," she said, then turned and left the room.
Twenty minutes later, she walked into the family room carrying a tray laden with a glass of juice, a peeled, sliced banana, two pieces of toast, a dish of butter and marmalade, two aspirins and a mug of coffee. "Here you go. I'll just set this down on the coffee table."
Setting the tray down and looking up at the telly, she saw that her father was flipping from channel to channel rather rapidly, barely taking the time to see what was on. "What are you looking for, Daddy?" she asked.
"Oh, nothing I suppose. I mean, yesterday there was some sort of commotion going on over in America, but it must not have been too big a deal, 'cause nobody seems to be talking about it now. Oh well, no news is good news, I suppose. 'Mione, are you alright? You seem a bit startled," he said, taking in her suddenly rigid stance and pale, quiet demeanor.
"Oh Daddy, don't be silly," she replied, quickly putting a false smile on her face. In truth, she felt terrified to find out that something was going on in America, but she didn't want to frighten her father, so she kept her fears to herself.
Deciding to leave the room while she still had the composure to do so, she quietly muttered, "I'm going to take a shower and head off to the market," before turning and walking up the staircase. Once she was securely in the loo with the door locked, she slowly let out a breath she didn't even know she had been holding. Trying to steady her own nerves, she turned on the hot water at the sink, cupping and filling her hands and splashing the hot liquid over her face.
"Pull yourself together, damn it! You don't even know what he was talking about. For all you know, it was some sort of political issue or some such." Though she was desperately clinging to her very sensible view point, more than a small part of her couldn't help but play the events of her last and only Order meeting over again and again in her mind. Deciding that she was going to drive herself crazy if she kept thinking about such things, she pushed all thoughts from her mind, turned on the shower, and stood for over fifteen minutes, just letting the hot water roll over her neck and shoulders.
A little over an hour later, a cleaned and quite refreshed Hermione opened the front door to her family home, exiting and shouting out, "I'm leaving now, I'll be back in twenty minutes," then locked the door and turned to begin her trek to the corner shop, three blocks down the street.
As she took a glance around the neighborhood, she noticed that her next door neighbor's car was still parked in their drive. 'That's odd,' she thought. 'Normally, Dr. Swanson leaves even earlier than Mum and Dad. Hope he hasn't caught whatever Daddy's got. He was fine when I saw the two of them talking over the fence in the garden last night, though.' Finishing this thought, she turned and left up the street, not paying this another thought.
After a block and a half, Hermione glanced to her left and saw her neighborhood park, strangely devoid of children, although it was still rather early. Though that particular patch of grass, trees and bushes served as a playground for the children of her neighborhood, she never actually spent much time there; most of her childhood was spent indoors, what with two working parents and all. Lost in her thoughts, her mind barely registered the billow of robes coming from a nearby bush. Instinctively, she whipped out her wand and aimed it at the magical intruder.
Raising his hands in the air, he quickly offered, "I surrender, I surrender!" while smiling brightly.
"Professor Lupin!" she near yelled, lowering her wand and running towards her favorite former teacher. Reaching his location, she flung her arms around his chest and wrapped him in a tight hug. "Oh, I was so worried! I'm so glad to see you've made it back from America. Tell me, how was your trip? Oh, I was just on my way to the market, care to walk with me?"
Patting her on the shoulder lightly before she released her embrace, Remus nodded and followed his friend along the path up the street. Searching for the right words, he finally said, "Well, Hermione, first of all I had really hoped that the lot of you would have started calling me Remus by now. And to answer your question, my trip to America was…informational."
Noticing the care with which he chose his words, Hermione decided that she would wait to see if he would elaborate further on his own before she attempted to push him for information. The rest of their trip to the market was filled with small chatter. It wasn't until they had returned from the market to the park that Hermione finally decided to question her walking companion.
"Remus? I know you didn't just come here to chit-chat. If you're here, then that probably means something is indeed wrong as we all fear. So, I suppose we can continue to beat around the bush for another hour or so, or we can just get down to business. Which do you prefer?" she asked, looking him straight in the eye.
With a sad smile and a deep sigh, he paused for a few seconds before responding, "You know, you're really too smart for your own good, Hermione. Why don't we take a seat on that bench over there, and I'll bring you up to date." Placing a hand on her shoulder blades, he walked her to the bench and the two sat down side-by-side.
Over the next thirty minutes, Remus recounted all the information that had been put out in the meeting. By the time he finished, Hermione's skin tone had changed from lightly tanned to pasty white, and her eyes had grown to the size of saucers. Her hands began shaking terribly, while her breathing had become shallow and rapid. Though the summer temperature was becoming rather warm, she was feeling quite cold at the moment, as though her blood had chosen this particular moment to stop circulating. Indeed, anyone who saw her without knowing the circumstances might have thought she had just been scared to within an inch of her life.
When Remus finished his tale, a deep silence overtook the two until Hermione finally asked, "So, the symptoms, you're sure they're like the flu?"
"Yes, though they progress much more rapidly, and the end result is much more deadly. Why do you ask?"
Averting her gaze, Hermione quietly muttered, "Oh, no reason."
Though she attempted to hide it, it was obvious she was withholding something. "Hermione, if you know anything, no matter how small, you know we need to know what it is."
"Oh, it's nothing, really. It's just that, well, you noticed I was buying cold medicine at the store. Well, I mean it's nothing serious, but my Dad's come down with a bit of a cold this morning. Just simple stuff, you know, some light coughing, sneezing, that sort of thing. Do you think, I mean, do you suppose it's possible…"
Seeing the pain in the girl's eyes, Remus smiled sympathetically before responding, "Now, now, there's no need to jump to conclusions. As I said in the meeting, we think there's a good chance that all people with magic in their blood, even those with too little to be able to use it properly, will prove to be immune. Now, there's a fairly decent chance that your parents have at least a small amount of magic in their blood. That's why Professor Dumbledore has taught those of us who are visiting with muggle born students a spell that will detect if any magic is present within a person. Now, I'm supposed to use this spell, however, since they're your parents and since I know you're more than capable of casting it yourself, I will just teach you and you can tell for yourself, alright?"
Seeing her nod her approval, he continued. "Now, the spell is quite simple. You simply flow your wand like so, from the person's head to their feet, while chanting 'Magus Aperio'. If any blue sparks shoot from the tip of your wand, then magic is present in the blood. Here, let me demonstrate." With this, he stood, waved his wand as he had shown her and chanted the spell while aiming at her. Immediately, a vast mass of blue sparks began firing from the end of his wand, vanishing no more than a foot later.
"Now, you try," he said. She of course performed the spell perfectly on the first try.
Not being able to think of any other information, Remus decided to finally breach the most difficult task on his list. "Erm, Hermione, there is one last order of business. Part of my duty by being here is to ensure that you are safe, and to attempt to convince you to return to the castle with me. Now I know-" He would get no further.
Her face looking slightly incredulous, she interrupted, "Are you joking, or just mad? There is absolutely no way that I am leaving my family! They need me now, more than ever!" Her expression becoming angry and bitter, she continued. "Besides, though you may be the great Professor Lupin, you are not without fault, you know. Even if my Da- I mean if one of my parents were to get sick, they might still beat it. You don't know, and DON'T THINK I'M JUST GOING TO TAKE YOUR WORD FOR IT!!" She finished her rant in a shout. Luckily, the park still had few occupants.
Waiting for her to finish, Remus finally bowed his head slightly before saying, "I didn't suppose there was a chance of you coming along anyways. But it is part of my detail, and besides, I promised Ron I would try." Though he would not admit it out loud, he very much hoped that the mention of Mr. Weasley would calm her down. His hopes were indeed answered.
"Oh, Ron asked? Is he, I mean, are all the Weasley's…"
"He's fine, Hermione, though a little upset that he was not allowed to come see you himself," he answered, her question remaining unasked.
"Oh, well that was probably the smart thing. He is rather impulsive, after all, I wouldn't-er, that is to say, nobody would want him to do something foolish and end up paying for it. It's better that he just stay at the castle." Whispering to herself, Remus barely heard her finish, "Though I do miss him terribly."
Deciding that it was time for this meeting to finish, Remus reached into his pocket and retrieved two items. Seeing what was in his hand, Hermione looked questioningly at an ordinary looking pencil and pin. "I don't suppose those are just for writing and holding up notes?"
"Like I said before, you are too smart. No, the pencil is actually a portkey." Setting the pencil on the bench he continued, "The trigger word is Hogwarts, and it can transport as many magical persons as can touch it. The pin is for informational purposes. Just tack it up anywhere in your house, and it will detect and keep us informed as to any magical persons residing in your home. Any questions?" Seeing her shake her head no, he stood to his feet.
"Well, I guess I should be on my way then. Please, take care of yourself, and for Merlin's sake, keep that portkey on you at all times. Take care," and with that, he started to turn to the bush so that he could apparate.
Suddenly, Hermione flung herself into the surprised werewolf's arms, once again hugging him tight. "Oh Remus, I'm so frightened! What are we all going to do?" she cried.
Patting her shoulder with one hand and running his other along her hair, he replied in a soothing voice, "There, there. There's no reason to get overly upset, Hermione. What will be, will be, and there's nothing any of us can do to stop it. You just need to remember that, even though times are going to become tough, there's always something left to fight for. So, I want you to promise me that you'll never stop fighting, alright?"
Sniffing slightly, she remarked, "A-alright, I promise. Oh, and Remus? I-I hate to ask, but can you deliver a message for me?" Pulling back and seeing him nod, she continued. "Please tell Ron that…I'm sorry. Tell him I'm sorry I didn't come back, but that he knows I can't leave my family. Please tell him…not to be mad with me." She mumbled this last part, staring fixedly at her shoes.
Using his hand to lift her chin so that she was looking him in the eye, Remus said, "No, Hermione, I'll not tell him you're sorry. You and I both know I won't have to. True, he may be upset at first, but there is nobody on this earth that understands loyalty to loved ones more than a Weasley, and we both know it. Now, you best get on back home, or your father will become worried." Deciding not to drag things on any further, he quickly turned from her, walked behind the bush and apparated to his next location, leaving the girl standing alone in her thoughts.
After five minutes of pondering, Hermione walked back to her home, unlocked the door and slipped inside. Shortly after entering, she was greeted in a less than friendly manner. "Where have you been? cough You said you would be twenty minutes; it's been nearly an hour! cough"
"Sorry Daddy," she said, then decided to attempt to lighten the mood. She just couldn't deal with her father being mad at her right now. "They didn't have the really nasty stuff at the corner store, so I decided to walk a little further to the market." She pulled the bottle from the bag and jiggled it slightly with her fingertips, while smiling what she hoped was a bright smile.
It must have worked, because his frown disappeared from his face almost immediately. Taking the bottle from her, he quickly opened it up, took a swig, and then replaced the cap. Grimacing heavily he said, "Why, thank you 'Mione, for thinking of my best interests." Suddenly smirking, he finished, "This will of course be remembered the next time you get sick."
She chuckled lightly and took a seat in the chair opposite the couch, waiting patiently for the medicine to affect him. She did not have to wait long, as he was snoring softly within fifteen minutes.
Standing and moving next to him, she pulled out her wand and, while breathing somewhat raggedly, moved the tip along the length of his body and muttering, "Magus Aperio." Her heart quite thoroughly ripped in half, however, as she failed to see a single blue spark.
A/N: My God, I know, it's been sooooo long, right? Well, all I can tell you is that unfortunately, I'm not getting paid to write this story, and therefore, often life gets in the way. Anyways, I hope you all liked this chapter. I know this story is starting out kinda slowly, but you'll just have to bear with me. All you who've read The Stand know that this story starts out slowly, but quickly spirals out of control. Trust me, in the next couple of chapters, things are gonna start getting worse really fast. Thanks for the reviews (Yeay! I finally got some!). To answer your question, BlindJedi, I'm sorry to tell you that there will indeed be some bits of Harry/Ginny shipping in this story. I really hope this doesn't turn you off from reading it, and if it makes you feel any better, any ships but one in this story will barely get a mention here and there. The only reason Ron/Hermione get a bit of a spotlight is because it will be central to the story, at least in the early goings. Well, that does it for me, as always, I beg for your reviews!
Cheers!!