Part four
Summertime Summertime Sum Sum Summertime…
Summertiiiiime
Great now that song is in my head.
One more week of school for me, but not for our heroes. They're celebrating their summer break, with a few changes. This post will be a two-fer, because 4 is short and 5 is long and they're both as ready as they're ever going to be.
~~ starting out with the view from Crawley ~~
Hermione heard most of the conversation and was seriously surprised – and angered – at what she heard coming out of her father's mouth.
"I am glad that she's made friends. But why a boy? And why of such low quality? Did you see the clothes? Has he ever heard of a comb? I'm simply saying that our daughter can do better than a ragamuffin for a best friend." Michael stated.
"Michael…" Leslie tried to warn him that Hermione had entered the room, to set the table for dinner, and heard – at the least - the end of his diatribe.
Hermione had memories of her mother telling her not to judge others by their looks, her father saying that charity began with every day actions. She tried to balance the anger that she felt as she informed her father of his serious misjudgment without accusing him of being a classist bigot.
"Harry's parents were murdered when he was one." She began quietly, and her parents stiffened. "He remembers, some. He was taken from his parents' house and left, literally, on the doorstep to his aunt's. Headmaster Dumbledore put up some massive warding – protection – based on blood, Harry's mum's blood, which is also Harry's aunt's blood, and Harry has to stay there for that protection. They never wanted him. They belittle him, they deny him basic needs, like food and clothing. He didn't even know his name until he went to primary. They call him freak, or if they're in a good mood, boy."
Her mother's eyes watered, her father looked shaky as she delivered this information as dispassionately as she could. The disappointment in her eyes as she spoke was crushing to her dad.
"They kept him in a boot cupboard until his first Hogwarts letter was delivered there. Then they moved him to his cousin's toy room. They have four bedrooms in that house. They regularly used two. But they kept the trash in the cupboard.
"Harry has saved my life a few times. Literally." She tried to be offhand, tried to cool the rage in her. "I told you how he jumped on that massive troll first year just to save me, when we weren't even friends. He has no sense of self-worth. He throws himself between innocent people and trouble all the time. I've been trying to help him understand that his value is not in what he can give to others. Like you taught me. All people have intrinsic value and rights."
She could see that they understood. That her father felt massive shame at what he thought, felt, and said. She also knew that she was their only daughter, and she was supposed to be thirteen. They gave her to this school – were forced to put her in this school – where they had no input let alone control. She figured this was just an outlet they could actually complain about to each other. So, she cut them a break.
"As for his hair – his family, the Potters, were cursed about two centuries ago. It's a blood curse. And it causes messy hair. There's not a thing he can do about it. Believe me, we've tried!" Hermione shook her head and smiled weakly.
"They abuse him?" Her father asked.
"They neglect him. They belittle him. They never feed him enough. They let his cousin, whose castoffs he wears – that should give you an idea how big that brat is – chase Harry and beat him up."
"And he stays there for magical protection?"
Hermione sighed. This time, she'd tell them everything. "The man who killed his parents… he's not dead. He's just not got a body right now."
"There is not enough alcohol in the world for this conversation," Michael murmured as his wife picked up her wine.
"Got that in one," Leslie answered as she swallowed the merlot.
Hermione chuckled. "Seriously. He's some kind of whacky, mean ghost thing. He possessed a teacher our first year."
"What." It wasn't a question. The wine glass stem didn't break as her mother abruptly put down her glass, but both her parents were looking at her quite seriously now.
If she'd really been thirteen, Hermione might have felt intimidated. But her parents had a right to know – they needed to know.
"Professor Quirrel. Our DADA teacher. He was actually possessed by the spirit of the dark lord who tried to kill Harry. He's the one who put the troll in the school that almost killed me. He's the one who cursed Harry's broom, trying to make him fall to his death. He's the one who tried to kill Harry. But Harry's touch… vaporized him. The love of his mother is in that protection, and if there's one thing a dark lord can't handle, it's the purity of love."
"There was a psychotic mass-murderer teaching you for an entire school year? And no one was told?"
Hermione shrugged. "Who'd believe it? But it's true: I swear." Hermione didn't know she lit briefly with that oath. But her mother, squib born, could see the light and knew what it meant almost instinctively.
"We need to move." Michael was doing math in his head. The house wasn't paid for, and he had a loan for his part of the practice. In five years, they'd be clear of the house mortgage and much more of the other. Right now, moving wasn't really something they could easily undertake.
Hermione shrugged. "I don't know how odd any of the rest of the magical world is. It could be better; it could be worse. We're very isolated in Britain. I was going to ask you to put me into a homeschooling program this summer. I've kept up on both sides. I want to take my A levels, go to uni, and live in the normal world." She saw her parents' surprise and relief at that statement. "But I can't do that now: they'd bind my magic and wipe our memories, and I don't trust that they'd do either right. It would probably cause damage if not kill us. I have four more years."
She saw her parents exchange a look. They'd analyze, they'd plan. She'd probably bought a year, maybe two with the request for normal schooling.
She only hoped that she and Harry could nip Riddle's resurrection in the bud. But when had any of their plans ever gone right?
~~~ and back to Surrey ~~~
Dobby waited in the tent for Harry. The new trunk was there, and all the rooms were set up. The bath had spa-quality soaps and Egyptian cotton towels. The sheets on the queen bed were percale. The seats were leather and the air had a soft incense smell, with just a touch of leather, sandalwood, and patchouli. After a brief tour, Harry thanked Dobby.
"What would Master Harry like Dobby to do now?"
"I'd like you to help Kreacher clean up the house at Grimmauld Place. I need the dungeons to be secure and all the dark creatures and pests to be evicted, as soon as possible."
"Who will takes care of yous?" Dobby asked with reluctance. He wanted to do what his master asked, but he needed to help his master, first.
"I can cook and clean myself. This tent masks my magic, and I won't use my wand – I found others in that junk room that work for me. I'll be fine. But if you want to come check on me every few days, same with Kreacher, I'd appreciate it. We also have some work to do this summer. More mischief to manage." Harry smirked and Dobby grinned. He liked mischief.
Harry spent an hour writing in his journal. He'd written a brief outline of all the years he remembered and now he was fleshing them out. With occlumency, he was able to get quite a bit of detail when he focused.
Once he had eaten a good supper and cleaned up, he called Hermione.
"Hey! Good timing! I just got into my room after dinner."
"Me, too. My first real meal ever at Privet Drive."
"Humph," Hermione grumbled. "The tent is working out, then?"
"Oh, let me show you!" He turned the mirror and gave her a tour. "This is my kitchen area. It doubles for potions with this potions mat – inscribed, I think, with that brewer's ward you told me about. We should make some for school. Give them to the other kids."
Hermione shook her head. "Sell them. People won't trust something that's free has any actual value. But you're right. We should be using the ward. I oversaw the oaths of two different potions' masters…" She trailed off, thinking, then shook her head, putting her conclusions of for the time being. "Show me more of our vacation home."
"Our vacation home?" He asked with a quirked brow, then grinned. "Yeah, this would be fun to travel in, unlike the other!" He showed off the fume hood and magical stove, the stasis cabinet that replaced both a fridge and pantry and was easily portable to a new location. A few – obviously goblin-made – knives were held on a magnetic strip above the counter. The wooden cabinets and drawers held a variety of posh dishes and flatware and linens. There was an alcove with a table and bench seating. A center room held some comfortable furniture around a fireplace that could hook to a floo, while a side room could hold a ritual circle or training equipment. The bathroom had all the mod cons – whoever designed this did not stick with wizarding design – and the bedroom had a puffy queen mattress within its posters.
The overall feeling was of understated opulence.
"Wow." Hermione was impressed. "That is, hands down, better than our old one. Dobby stole the best from Malfoy."
"Ha! I like that this probably cost what a house cost, as Malfoy was behind the ministry conscripting Potter Cottage as a memorial."
"Bastard." The invective was knee-jerk and lacked venom. It was just a statement of truth. Malfoy was a bastard. Every Malfoy was a bastard.
"Indeed. So, how is my fiancée this evening?" Harry kicked back and sipped at a cold coke. He didn't indulge in soft drinks much, but he'd had a crazy-busy end of year, and wanted to celebrate not having to be at the Dursleys when he was at the Dursleys.
"Fiancée? Aren't you jumping the gun just a bit?" Her eyebrow raised in challenge, but the soft smile on her face belied any insult.
"Hey, you asked me. No take backs. I figure after you finish uni."
Hermione smiled, and he could feel her excitement through the mirror. "I know! I told my parents tonight that I want the homeschooling tests this summer so I can do A levels and attend university. I'm so excited to be able to do that this time around!"
"There's my girl." Harry grinned.
"Yes," Hermione nodded, "here I am." They smiled at each other.
"Have you heard from Sirius again?" Hermione laid back on her bed. She loved just chatting with him. She figured her hormones would be on fire within a year, but for now, the chats were enough. Almost.
"I don't recall hearing from him much." Harry put down the coke and instead took a sip of his nutritional dessert shake. It was supposed to be chocolate but tasted of vitamins. "This time, I'm going to find him. Rather, Hed will be able to find him. Won't you, girl?" The owl barked in confirmation.
~~~ the conversation fades…~~~
Harry's days filled easily. He did lawn work, actually enjoying being in the sun as he had a cool tent with beverages and food waiting for him. His aunt flipped the curtains and monitored him with a sneer, but he just waved and smiled, going back to trimming the roses. Ideally, that should have been done earlier, but needs must.
He worked on his physical health, exercising beyond the yard work, and he read from his rather full, pilfered library. He'd not seen some of these books before, and could sometimes lose himself for a few hours.
He spent some time exploring Little Whinging and Greater Whinging, but decided to take the bull by the horns, and on Wednesday, just a few days after his arrival in Surrey, he used public transpo to make his way to Little Hangleton.
He knew Hermione wouldn't like that he'd gone alone. The mirror call that night confirmed that opinion.
"We need to talk about the ring."
"I don't like the idea of you going there by yourself," Hermione stated.
"Hermione, I'm bored. I've studied, daily. I've exercised. I've done the yardwork for the Dursleys and for Figg the Cat Lady."
"The one who was supposed to make sure you were safe, but never made sure you were fed?" Her tone said that Hermione was ready to go on a rant. If Harry wasn't going to get to enjoy the rant in person, then he'd have to get her mind on something else.
Treading carefully, Harry continued. "I'm used to more freedom. The tent is great, the best, but it's pretty small. You know I do mischief when I'm bored!"
"If you're being watched – which I don't think happens til next summer – they'll expect you to walk around, locally."
"I've gone to Little Whinging and Greater Whinging. They all know and believe the rumors on the Little Whinging side. But not so much in the greater area. They now know me at the library and the thrift store – got that used bicycle I've fixed up twice – since Diddy-Dumkins and his friend Pierce trashed it once – and I'll ride around, daily. Already got some good threads at the secondhand, too. I think a rich guy carked it. Quality, natural fibers in good, moderate designs." Harry nodded. "A little magic and they'll be perfect for me."
"Any threads are better than the Dudley rejects. But you could buy a whole new wardrobe after you visit the blighters."
"I could. But you know that I'll have to keep my gold in Gringotts. British law and what not. I don't want to piss them off this time, if I can help it."
Hermione huffed. "They wronged you first. Even now, they're planning to steal your family history and all the resources your family saved."
"I have to work with them, you know that. I'm not going to start out my relationship with them by 'wasting' funds on a wardrobe I'll outgrow in a year or so." The only time Hermione got this implacably mad was when she thought someone wronged Harry. He changed the subject again. "Now, I'm going further afield. I brewed aging potion. I look nineteen or so – old enough to go jaunting about our merry island, ransacking thrift stores and charity shops hither and yon, just as we used to." She smiled at the memories of their thrifting days and the treasures they'd found. Being on such a fixed budget could be misery in the normal world, with water and heat bills and whatnot. But in the magical world, well, charms and enchantments fixed a lot of misery. She was almost placated when Harry continued his thought. "I look old enough to scout out Little Hangleton."
"You went there? What did you do? You promised you wouldn't do anything yourself!"
"Pax! I didn't! I remember the plan: I am going to have the elves make a snake. I'll talk to it. Hopefully, it will get the ring. One of the elves will stab the ring with the goblin blade. I'm just there to make sure that they are ok; an emergency wand, if you will. I found the site of the cottage and called Dobby to me. We're taking care of it tonight."
Knowing the limits of her options, Hermione pursed her lips. "I wish I could be with you. I wish you could come visit me. My parents won't let me out, either, unless it's to their office or to the tutoring sessions."
Hermione's parents had signed her up with a tutoring service for the summer. She'd take her homeschool levels for her corresponding year in early August. She was, according to the tutors, at least three years ahead in her major subjects, so she would have no problem with the standards.
"And I doubt they'd like a seemingly-nineteen-year-old male visiting you, either."
Hermione chuckled. "Nope." She sighed. "I suppose you have to go. Will you mirror me when it's done? I won't sleep, thinking of you doing this alone."
"I will. For the record, I wish you were with me. I miss you. It hurts, how much I miss you."
Her eyes watered and she nodded. "I'd be going mad without these mirrors. My parents think we're talking on the phone. They gave me my own line. A concession, I think."
"You could tell them about the mirrors."
She shook her head. "This way, they think they're in control. They can take the phone away if I do something wrong."
"Like you ever do anything wrong."
"I set a teacher on fire. I do wrong things."
Harry grinned and nodded. "Good times."
"Besides," she replied, with a feigned primness in her voice, then she became serious, "they can't know a lot of stuff. They have no way to protect their minds."
Harry nodded. It gave him an idea. One of the books Hermione'd got him was about enchantments for mental protections. He might just be able to help…
His alarm charm went off. "Ok, Hermione, I'm off. I'll call you within two hours."
"Be safe," she whispered. He nodded and put down the mirror.
He called Dobby, and the elf popped him back to Gaunt shack, where Kreacher awaited.
"OK, this is the plan. Kreacher, I'd like you to conjure a snake when I say so. I'll talk to it in parsletongue, asking it to get another one of the bad items from under this shack." Kreacher nodded, at attention, and Harry continued. "Then Dobby, I'd like you to use this blade Kreacher and I made to stab the treasure – it's a bad ring." Dobby nodded, bouncing enthusiastically. Harry could see Kreacher sigh in frustration at the antics of the other elf. He went on to warn them of the very bad magics on the ring and how they musn't give in to the call. The two elves nodded solemnly at his warnings.
"Excellent. We're ready?" He asked and both elves nodded again. "Let's begin."
Kreacher conjured a snake, just as Harry asked, and Harry ordered it to get ring.
Within a few moments, the snake returned, carrying a small wooden box that glowed with evil enchantments. Harry fed the serpent a rat before having Kreacher return it from whence it came.
Kreacher then opened the sealed box with magic, careful to keep a distance. The ring called to them all, but Harry had warned them well. Dobby moved forward and stabbed the ring with the basilisk-infused dagger. The ensuing scream showed that Dobby had destroyed ring just as planned.
"High Five!" Harry held up his hand. The two elves looked at each other in confused inquiry, then, still puzzled, back at their master. "Oh, it's a muggle thing," the young wizard explained. "When something goes exceptionally well, you slap hands up in the air. High five!" Harry tried to do the victory slap again, but the limp hand of Dobby the elf did not make much of an impression. "Nevermind," he muttered, feeling somewhat dejected and missing Hermione like a limb.
Kreacher shook his head at his little master then studied the ring. "Ring no cursed no more, but still ugly. Kreacher put in box with other bad pieces." Levitating the now dead horcrux into the lead-lined silk bag, Kreacher popped out to Grimmauld, then popped back, handing Harry the empty bag. He put it and the sheathed dagger into his ever-present mokeskin bag.
"Just the snake now," Harry murmured aloud. Well, the snake and himself. And the evil-baby Voldie. Maybe he should call the evil baby, Chucky? It had a certain ring to it. Shaking the random thought from his brain, Harry looked at the elves.
"Dobby, Kreacher, thank you so much for all your help. We have just about killed all of Riddle's pieces. Would you be willing to help more?"
"Wes elvies do what Great Master Harry Potter need," Dobby stated emphatically.
Harry heaved a sigh and nodded. "OK. I have reason to believe that Riddle himself – or what's left of him – will be staying in that manor sometime soon." Harry pointed to the abandoned Riddle manor. Both elves looked at the unkempt place with revulsion. "He'll have a servant – Peter Pettigrew - and a big, nasty snake with him. We'll be taking them into custody. But we need to be prepared. And I'll need you to watch for them to show up here. If one of you could just pop over once a day or so? To check?" The elves looked at each other and nodded. They'd work out a schedule.
"Mostly, I'd like you to work on Grimmauld Place."
"Wes be workings hard on Master Harry's house. Would master likes to sees?"
One thing Harry had learned – directly and indirectly – from his uncle was that well-placed praise made productive, happy workers. "Yeah, that sounds great!"
Kreacher went ahead and Dobby popped Harry to the mansion. Harry looked around with a smile, complimenting the elves on the progress so far. The elves, working together, had mostly eradicated the dark pests. The rooms looked old and dark but they were starting to look clean. Kreacher had taken down the picture of Mrs. Black, as ordered, and mounted her in the hall of portraits. Dobby had… acquired several lead-lined trunks (Harry grinned but asked no questions) and unrepentantly harmful dark objects were sequestered therein. But the best part was the dungeon: dark, dank, and utterly secure. With a massive basilisk skeleton wending its way around the ceiling and grinning in greeting.
"Did you sell all the rest?" Harry asked.
Kreacher shook his head. "Kreacher just putting feelers into dwarf market. Too much snakey stuffs overloads market."
"Oh, you don't go through goblins?" Harry asked, grateful he'd started this line of questioning.
"Little monsters steal from good, honest wizards and elves. Rules say any busy-ness in Britain, must use little monsters. Kreacher only sell outside Britain." The elf nodded.
"That is brilliant, Kreacher. Thank you. Do I have access to funds elsewhere?"
"Black family has accounts with dwarves, gnomes, vampires, and goblins. Master Harry should make sure that other Black family members do not take from those accounts. Dirty Malfoy tries quarterly."
Would have been nice to know last time. Harry smiled. Ah, well, he'd learned how to live, well, on a tight budget. And this time around, he'd be comfortable. Looking at the lead boxes once again, he smiled, thinking of how Dobby was Robin Hooding things to make them a bit more even.
"Say," Harry wondered aloud, thinking of Black family objects and a certain mad witch attacking Hermione, "have you found any blades that make cuts that don't heal?"
"Kreacher has found one, yes."
"Excellent. Keep it handy." Harry smirked, planning some well-earned payback. "Lads, I need a cage for a rat." He went on to explain what he needed and plan how he would enchant it.
Pettigrew would regret his life choices.
Once Dobby popped Harry back to the tent, just a bit later, he mirrored Hermione straight away.
"Hermione Granger" he intoned to the mirror in his hand. Her face appeared instantly and the look of relief was palpable.
"You're okay," she whispered. It was extremely late, and she didn't want to wake her parents down the hall.
"Believe it or not, everything went just as planned."
She let out a harsh breath of relief. "Good. Unbelievable, but good. What took so long?"
"The elves took me to Grimmauld to show off what they've accomplished. It still looks like a crypt, but the pests are gone, and Dobby's locked down all of the dark magic heirlooms in lead boxes he… ummm… got somehow."
Hermione grinned, knowing Malfoy was paying bit by bit. As much of his fortune was ill-gotten gains, it was fine by her.
"The dungeon is ready for guests. Dobby's going to get me a cage for the rat; I'll enchant it before the worm gets to Riddle manor. The three of them should be appearing in mid-August, if my memories are correct. I know I had the dream with wormy and Riddle before I went to the burrow."
"Mmm," Hermione murmured, biting her lip, and thinking. "You should have elves get draught of living death."
"That's a strange request, as it's a very dark potion. You think the magic suppression of the dungeon won't be enough?"
She sighed. "As long as you have that scar…"
Harry's shoulders fell, and he nodded. "He could come back," Harry sighed. "I really don't want to take an AK again."
"You don't have to." Hermione caught herself as her voice started to rise. Then she spoke sotto voce again, "If we toss the main Riddle piece through the veil, yours will be the only one left. No way he gets through your mother's protection and is able to possess you."
Harry pasued, then smiled brilliantly. "You're right! You're so right! I would kiss you if you were here! Hmm." His face sobered. "That's all the more reason I need to be here during summers, at least til we bin the rubbish. Keep that protection strong as can be."
Hermione sighed. "I suppose. At least you'll get healthy this summer." And she'd miss all the progress.
"We should meet up tomorrow. Celebrate. Will your parents let you go out, just to Crawley? We can do some thrift shopping."
"They'll let me go out in this neighborhood, but they wouldn't like that you came here without an adult, as you're only 13. And I don't like lying to them. It's hard enough keeping the time travel under wraps."
"Right." Harry sighed. "I won't get to see you until September, unless you come to the Burrow. What are you going to do about the world cup invite?"
"Still thinking. Talking it over with my parents."
"They willing to let you go?"
"They are, but I don't want to go, and they see that. I think I can talk them into a mini vacay over to Ireland. We have a family cottage there."
"Nice. You should spend time with them while you can. School is a long period without them."
"Speaking of school and spending time with people, I was thinking earlier," Hermione
"Shocked face." Harry pointed to his very serious mien, then laughed with her quiet chuckle.
"Quiet, you. Neville. He's so alone in the summers. Could you write him?"
Harry sighed. "I could, but I don't think he's on my owl list. You know Dumbledore has it locked down so people can't send me bad stuff."
Hermione bit her lip and nodded. "I'll sleep on it. Talk to you tomorrow – or, rather, later today."
"Sleep well, love."
~~ down to one horcrux. In, like, a week. Can I say, again, how much I hated the idea of a horcrux "hunt"?~~