Chapter Two
18th June, 2001
Hermione was awake before the rest of the house arose. Grabbing her dressing gown, she made her way down the staircase and towards the kitchen. She usually woke quite early, but that particular morning she couldn't have stayed in bed any longer. Hermione wasn't expecting, however, to find that someone had already beaten her to it and was sat at the kitchen table with a pot of tea in front of them.
"Harry…" she said softly, "why are you up so early?"
Her dark haired friend lifted his head to appraise her. He looked drained, she noticed, and miserable. He half smiled at her, though it didn't reach his eyes.
"Couldn't sleep," he replied quietly as she took the seat opposite him.
She helped herself to some tea and reached a hand out to clasp his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Neither could I," she replied.
Harry sighed – it was the sigh of a man who had lost too much; too many things he cared about.
"It never gets easier, 'Mione." He croaked, his voice cracking when he said her name.
"I know, Harry, I know," she had to hold herself back from crumbling but she knew that would do Harry no favours whatsoever. It was exactly five years since they lost Sirius in the Department of Mysteries. Harry was right; it never got easier. Not for Harry and Hermione anyway. It still felt like yesterday – the wounds still felt fresh enough. So fresh that no one even dared mention Sirius within the walls of Grimmauld Place, nor around Harry. And that was the worst part; they never spoke of their fond memories of him, or the happy times they had together. Everyone but Hermione avoided the subject like it was something to be ashamed of.
It was around this date that Harry would become distant each year. Even Hermione couldn't pull him back, and Ginny had learnt to just leave him to it.
"Why the tea?" Hermione suddenly asked.
Harry shrugged, "thought it was too early for anything stronger."
Hermione smiled and summoned a bottle of fire whiskey from a cabinet, "certainly not," she cried, pouring them both a double shot, "bottoms up!"
They together knocked it back silently but Hermione couldn't help pulling a face as the cool burn slid down her throat.
"How long have we got?" He asked gently.
Hermione glanced at the clock and then replied dejectedly, "About three hours."
It was obvious that neither of them particularly wanted to leave the safety of the house.
"So, plenty of time to have a few more of these," Harry suggested, picking up the whiskey bottle and pouring them both another glass.
In Loving Memory of
Sirius Orion Black III
A Wronged Man
Hermione must have read and reread those words over thirty times since the memorial stone was placed in the grounds of Hogwarts. Of course, it wasn't too visible to the public; some people still rejected the man's new found innocence. But it had been built between the Forbidden Forest and the Whomping Willow, where he, James, Remus and Peter had spent their nights during the full moon. It was a simple stone – there was nothing grand or extravagant about it. Remus saw no point in making it look pretty; Sirius would never see it anyway.
Each witch and wizard was dressed in their best black robes – Everyone except Luna, who wore a lime green slip dress covered in pumpkin prints. Molly had rather rudely expressed how thoughtless she thought the girl had been with regards to her choice of clothing, but Molly had never much liked Sirius anyway and those who were close to him knew that he'd rather there hadn't been such a formal, dull event in his memory.
Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny, George, Remus, Teddy, Molly, Arthur, Minerva, Neville, Luna, Hagrid, Bill and Fleur each paid their respects to the fallen marauder. They stood in silence, very few of them shed a tear for him but every one of them had a deep veneration for Sirius.
When the memorial service was over, Hermione lingered.
Harry had immediately apparated back to the house as he did every year, giving no one the chance to properly speak to him.
Once she was certain no one was going to turn and follow her, Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out the first book of hers that Sirius had borrowed. When Hermione had found it, resting on the cabinet beside his bed, it was evident that he hadn't actually finished it because the bookmark was placed three quarters into the book. To others it might have seemed a bit strange, putting a book in place of flowers down at a grave stone – but Hermione knew how much he had enjoyed reading Jane Eyre and it seemed to her like something he would have appreciated more than some pretty flowers. Hermione had never had him down as the sort of man to value muggle fiction, especially one like Jane Eyre. It seemed quite ironic that a man who had spent so much time in Azkaban, living like a caged animal with only murderers and psychopaths for company, could return to civilisation and enjoy a good romantic classic.
"Hermione?" A voice cried from behind her, "Ah, there you are! I've been looking everywhere for you,"
Hermione turned from the grave, her eyes awash with unshed tears, and saw Neville marching up to her. Once he saw her face, he enveloped her with his arms, her head fitting comfortably underneath his chin.
"We must leave, Kingsley is expecting you back at the house and I've got training later," He said softly, holding her away from him and wiping her cheeks with his thumb. He turned so she was tucked into his side and walked back the way they came through the grounds and joined Ron by Hagrid's hut.
"Everyone has gone back to Grimmauld Place; although I tried to stop them…Harry won't want so much company right now." Ron announced once they'd reached him.
"Shall we?" Neville smiled, holding his arm out for Hermione to take. She nodded, and they apparated back to Grimmauld Place with Ron.
"Where is Harry?" Hermione inquired once they arrived back.
Remus set Teddy down in the drawing room and answered, "I believe he's confined himself to Sirius' room. Give him time," he said softly.
Hermione smiled adoringly down at Teddy as he came towards her with open arms. She gripped the young boy under his arms and lifting him onto her hip. "How are you coping, Remus?" she asked, giving his son a tender kiss on the forehead.
"We're doing well; he's so much like his mother. He woke me up crying a few nights ago and when I went to check on him he'd morphed his mouth into a snout," he chuckled, "Like a pig."
"He's a credit to her, Remus. You've done so well raising him alone,"
He smiled affectionately, "I couldn't have done it without you and Harry though. He couldn't have asked for better god parents."
"That's nice of you to say," She smiled, putting Teddy down and taking a seat by the fire.
"I mean it, Hermione,"
She glanced at Remus briefly, who had now taken a seat beside her. "It's been three years since I lost Nymphadora; I think of her every day. I never thought I'd be without her, which was silly of me. But it gives me peace of mind to know I still have part of her, in our son."
They were both silent for a moment; Hermione knew she didn't need to say anything, so she just held his hand.
"Daddy, someone's at the door," Teddy said, tugging on Remus' trouser leg and pointing at the entrance of the room.
"That would be Kingsley; he wants to speak to you, Hermione," Remus said. They both stood from their seats and walked from the drawing room into the kitchen where most of the Order were sat or stood as Molly made the lunch.
"You wanted to speak to me, Minister?" Hermione asked Kingsley, joining him by the fire.
"Yes, would you mind if we went somewhere more private?" he asked politely, gesturing towards the door to the study.
She followed him through the hallway and once in the room asked, "Is this about work, Minister?"
He nodded, "Yes. Something in the Department of Mysteries has arisen and you've been assigned the task of discovering its secrets, Miss Granger."
"And where in the Department will I be placed?" she asked slowly.
"The Death Chamber," he replied.
There it was – that obstructive lump in her throat again. The same one she felt the moment she watched Sirius fall through the Veil. And now Kingsley was telling her she had to go back into that room – the room where he died.
"Tell me more," she said quietly, her voice slightly strained.
She leant against the wall, her eyes going out of focus as she took in the information.
"There has been a kind of disruption with the Veil; workers in the Department have reported hearing cries coming from the other side and the stone seems to have been more…alive of late – if that is the word. I made the decision yesterday that it's time to stop shying from that room; it needs investigating and I've chosen you to go forward with it."
"I'll get to work right away, Minister; I need a distraction from all this…" she trailed off, not quite sure what it was she was trying to say.
He nodded, "the truths of life sometimes get too much, even for the strongest of us – I understand."
Somehow Hermione believed he did understand. Kingsley had lost friends too. They all had. All they could do to take their minds off the reality of their lives was to work through it – create a distraction.
Kingsley left soon after their discussion and Hermione owled her boss, requesting a list of names for every victim of the Veil. The reply arrived the following day and she immediately moved into the old study and began work.
It soon became clear to Hermione that the list she was given was not just any ordinary list – she had successfully spotted something that other ministry members had failed to notice. For some reason that she was not yet aware, the Veil did not just haphazardly seize people who happened to be near it. Soon, a pattern began to emerge from the names on the page before her.
FARWELL FAMILY
- DRUELLA – 1940
- HAMISH – 1961
- XAVIER - 1990
MULL FAMILY
- ANDRAX – 1972
- HANS – 1979
WUTHERSPOT FAMILY
- MARY – 1920
- FREDA – 1955
- MARTIN- 1982
PEPPERCLOT FAMILY
- ROSE – 1926
- HEATHER – 1929
- ARNOLD – 1942
BLACK FAMILY
- CARINA – 1918
- ORION I – 1939
- SIRIUS III - 1996
"Hermione!" a voice cried from the hallway.
"In here, Harry!" she replied, quickly turning each sheet over so the writing wasn't visible.
"Why have you been in here all day? I've barely seen you," Harry complained, letting himself in and perching on the edge of her desk.
"I've been assigned to a new project; Sorry, it's been taking up all of my time," she explained, pulling her chair out so she could face towards him.
"So, what's the project?" he asked, picking up her pen and flipping it up in the air repeatedly.
"You know I can't tell you that, Harry," she sighed, giving him a stern look.
"Actually, you can," he said proudly, his face lighting up.
"Excuse me?"
"Do you think Kingsley hasn't already told me what you're doing? I know that you're studying the Veil, 'Mione." He said laughing, "So, tell me what you've found so far."
She felt quite relieved to know that there was someone outside the department that she could actually speak to about this; she didn't particularly like most of her colleagues anyway.
"Okay, so my boss gave me a list of names for the people who have fallen through the Veil; the strange thing is, they all seem to be in groups – as in, family groups. It's like the Veil has specifically selected specific families to take two or three members from. And not only that, but once that family has been chosen, nothing will stop that member from somehow finding their way to the Death Chamber. It just happens…"
"How? How is that even possible?" Harry asked, perplexed.
She shook her head, "I don't know; but there was one case where a witch from the Pepperclot family was away on holiday with her family in 1929. She had never heard of the Veil, she wasn't even aware the Ministry had a Department of Mysteries so she certainly couldn't have apparated there willingly. And one day she just vanished from her hotel and just appeared in the chamber, and then the Veil took her. Once your name is marked, nothing stops it from taking you."
Harry was silent for a moment, taking all the information in, then said slowly, "So there was nothing we could have done for Sirius…"
"It appears not," she replied solemnly, "two of his family member had already been taken. It was his fate, I suppose."
She knew Harry wouldn't accept the "fate" speech – for some reason he had always blamed himself for his godfather's death. It had been no one's fault thought, really. Judging by what she had just found, Sirius would have winded up in that room at some point in his life anyway. That didn't make him being gone any less difficult though.
"Why don't you take a break?" Harry asked, jumping down from the table and grabbing her hands to pull her up from the chair, "You've been working on this like a crazy person today."
She agreed to have a little rest and followed him into the kitchen.
"Hey, guys! Come up here!" They heard Ron bellow from somewhere above them.
"Where are you, mate?" Harry shouted back, heading towards the staircase.
"The attic. Found some bloody cool stuff up here!" He replied. They didn't bother asking him why he'd been rootling through the attic, and ran up the stairs immediately.
They found themselves in a very murky room, with dark beams and a ceiling so low that even Harry had to bend his knees to walk through. They found Ron at the far corner; a strange sight considering he was so afraid of spiders, and Harry was certain there was more than just spiders crawling around the house. The smell of damp was overwhelming but they ignored it just to see what their housemate had found.
"So," Ron began, "I came up here cause I remembered Sirius saying ages ago that somewhere in the house was a box containing the actual dragon hide gloves of Dimitar Draganov, you know – the famous Seeker from Bulgaria? Well, apparently he won them in a card game years ago and I'd completely forgotten about it! So I came up to have a look, and this place is like a treasure chest!"
By the end of his speech, Ron was flailing his arms around like an excited six year old boy who'd just been given his first broomstick.
"So what have you found?" Harry asked, peering into the various boxes scattered and stacked precariously around the room.
"Check It out for yourself; it's all in here," Ron replied, pushing a large cardboard box in their direction, overflowing with unfamiliar items.
Harry first pulled out a dusty photo frame; it appeared to just be made of wood, but the photo – like any magical photograph – moved like a short film. He handed the picture to Hermione who sat with her hand outstretched. The photograph showed a group of four young men all stood beside one another, with their arms draped around each other's shoulders.
"They look very familiar…" Hermione said quietly, frowning as she watched the four men grinning and play fighting.
Harry glanced up at her and nodded, then pointed at one of the men, the shorter out of the four with stringy blonde hair – he was considerably plumper than the rest of them but seemed to be having just as fun as the rest of them. "Peter Pettigrew," Harry said, and then pointed to the next one who was noticeably taller than Peter, with awful scratches on his face and neatly combed hair. This one seemed to be trying, and failing to keep a straight face as the others light-heartedly prodded him in the ribs. "Remus Lupin," he continued, and then pointed to the next one. There was no doubt who that was – "James Potter," he said softly, smiling at the photo where his father was putting the boy to his left in a head lock and scrubbing his head with his fist. The last one had wavy black hair that reached just below his chin. He seemed to be the one out of all of the trying to cause the most trouble, and trying to prevent the men from keeping straight faces. He was just slightly shorter than Remus and about the same height as James. Both men were handsome, but Hermione couldn't deny she was more partial to the black haired boy than the Harry look-alike.
"Sirius Black," Harry finally said, pointing to the last man. Hermione couldn't stop the heat rising to her cheeks once she realised that she'd really just been checking out her best friend's godfather.
"Are you okay, 'Mione?" he asked, his brows coming together in concern.
"Yes," she nodded frantically, "yes, I'm fine," but she was struggling to keep her eyes off the photograph, and more specifically, off of Sirius.
He looked so happy and carefree; it was such a strange sight to see him so relaxed. It seemed like a different man, in comparison to the one she first met in the Shrieking Shack all those years ago. Having only known him when he was in his late thirties, it had never really occurred to her that once he had been a very handsome young man. Not that he hadn't been handsome when she'd known him, but the man in the photo was so striking, she almost felt her heart beat quicken!
She put the frame down and focused on what else Harry was pulling from the box. The next item was a very old velvet box containing a set of sapphire encrusted earrings and a very grand looking necklace. Having read briefly about Pureblood traditions, she supposed they could be the family jewels which were meant for the wife of the eldest son. It was not surprising that they had just been tucked away in the attic after all this time, really.
"Do you recognise this book, Mione?" Ron asked, holding up a large, dark green leather book. The cover was so thick with dust that the writing was barely legible and Hermione had to smear it with her hand. It read Sonnets of a Sorcerer.
"Ronald, put that book down right now." Hermione cried, almost tearing it from him and immediately whipping her wand out and casting a sticking charm to the pages.
"What – what is it?" Harry asked, not even daring to touch the book after the response it produced from her.
"It's lucky you didn't open it when you saw this, Ron. I've been told about this book before; it went missing from the Restricted Section of Hogwarts about twenty years ago. Anyone who reads it is forced to speak in limericks for the rest of their life," she explained, stuffing it back into the bottom of one of the boxes.
"Sirius' idea of a joke, I'm guessing," Harry said quietly.
She nodded and muttered, "Perhaps it's best we don't search through this stuff. Some of it could be cursed for all we know,"
Harry agreed and they both stood to exit the room.
"Suit yourselves," Ron shouted, "I'll take my chances. Finders keepers!"
"Honestly," Hermione sighed once they got back to the study, "that boy is going to get his fingers cursed off one day."
Harry just laughed; "He's got another thing coming if he thinks he's keeping any of it…Well, he can have the portrait of Sirius' mother if he really wants something."
"I really should go back to work now, Harry," she said, grimacing but feeling quite eager to discover more about the Veil. Deep down it worried Hermione that - although she was telling herself she wasn't doing this to discover more about Sirius- she would never find an explanation or even potentially a way to reverse what had happened. She felt like she owed something to Harry, and to Sirius and maybe that was to bring him back – Give him a second chance at life, when his first chance had been ruined at every turn.
"Actually, it's almost dinner time. Neville said he'd cook tonight, so go and collect your things from the study and we'll talk about this over dinner. Okay?"