In Aster Stars: A Tale of Mystery and Magic

Chapter Four

By Meladara

The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and WB.

I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.

A/N: Here you go! We're making progress here, but there is still so much story le ftto tell! Squee! What do you think about their return? Do you think they are in danger? I'd love to hear you theories! ;) ~Mel

"Hi Mum, Dad," Hermione greeted as her parents walk in the door.

Harry left not long after lunch, having promised to take Ginny over to visit Luna, and since Professor McGonagall had asked for them to wait until tomorrow to visit, Hermione had encouraged him to go. She knew that she would be fine despite his worries otherwise. Hermione had sat and thought things over while she waited her parents to get home. Broaching the subject would not be easy. For the past week her parents had been rather evasive in regards to their return, but she knew she couldn't put off questioning them any longer. After talking to Harry, it was clear to her that she needed to understand, to the fullest extent, what had happened in Australia. It was the only way to be sure they were not in danger.

"Hello, dear," Jean said with a smile as she hung up her purse and then expectantly looked around the sitting room. "Is Harry still here? Can he stay for dinner?"

Hermione smiled at the inquiry; it was so nice that there was true affection between her parents and Harry. "Sorry, Mum. He couldn't stay, but he'll stop by tomorrow. You can say hi then. And it is probably for the best, because I wanted to speak to you guys about something."

With a nod of understanding, her parents sat down together on the sofa.

It was difficult to even know where to start. They were being so understanding about the whole situation – the war, the Obliviation, everything – she knew that the very fact that they were being so amiable was what had held her back before. What if they went back to how they were before? What if questioning them, pressing them for their story disturbed the harmony of their relationship – a harmony that she hadn't felt with them in many years, a harmony that seemed to be all that was holding back the impended madness of sorrow and nightmares?

"I know you are not inclined to talk about it," Hermione tentatively began, her eyes watching for any sign of discomfort or disapproval from them. "However, I think I am going to need you tell me exactly what happened to you in Australia now. Harry and I have some concerns..." The question of the how to explain Harry and her concerns without completely frightening them stumped her. Careful to speak generally and leave out all references to the war and Death Eaters, she pressed forward, hoping that it would be enough to encourage them to speak. "... some very valid concerns. There are a lot of manipulative people out there who practice questionable magic, and we want to be sure that you are completely safe. I can't always be here to protect you, and you are completely defenseless against anyone from the Wizarding world."

Jean looked at Hermione with sharp eyes. "If you are really that concerned... " she said. "It is a valid point, and I confess we hadn't really looked at it that way before."

"Do you really think that we are at risk here?" Richard asked with confused alarm.

There was something about her parents' expression. They were so trusting of magic now, and it was because of this that Hermione suddenly realised she couldn't hold back. She didn't want to be forced to tell them the true extent of the danger they could be in any more than she wanted to force them into telling her their story. But she needed to protect them. They would have to know some things if she wanted them to be safe. It wasn't right of her to keep them in the dark, anyway.

"Well, I hope that you aren't in danger," she said, her voice shaky, "but the truth is that there will always be some risk. There are supporters of Voldemort still out there and probably always will be. As my parents... or rather as the parents of War Heroine Hermione Granger, you will always be a prime target. Right now, my most important concern is to be sure that everything that was done to you before your return was safe. Then we can go from there."

Hermione looked at her parents as they processed her words. Her heart ached for them, for herself, for all of them. It seems as if there was always just one more thing waiting around the corner to steal her happiness. She could feel the tendrils of fear and despair creeping back into her mind and heart, reminders of the condition she had been in before they had come back to her. Knowing that she couldn't let it take hold of her – not now, not when she had to able to think and process what her parents told her – she shook her head and stubbornly straightened her back . Taking up her wand, she gave it a hard flick and summoned a notebook and pen from the desk across the room.

As the notebook and pen landed in her lap, Hermione felt her mind clear. She could do this. It was research, note taking. She was good at these things. With eyes focused on her waiting parents, she spoke, her voice all business. "Eventually, I'd like to have you looked over by Madam Pomfrey, just so we can be sure that you don't have any residual magic affecting you, but for now why don't you tell me about Tilinus? For instance, what does he look like?"

Both parents sat apparently deep in thought for a moment before Jean spoke.

"He's rather tall, with long black hair and striking eyes. They were very dark but not quite black, almost iridescent in the right light. If eyes could be called magical... his were. He was a very striking man, not one you'd easily forget."

"Anything else?" Hermione asked. "Did he have any scars or tattoos that you can remember?"

"I don't recall any scars," Jean replied. "But now that I think about it, I believe I did see a tattoo on his arm at one point... Although, I don't recall what it looked like."

Hermione tensed. That was definitely something she didn't want to hear. The fact that he had a tattoo on his arm did not make him a Death Eater, but it certainly raised some red flags.

"Mum, where on his arm? Do you remember anything else about it? Colour? General shape? Size?" There was a frantic tinge to her voice that betrayed her alarm, but she needed to know.

Jean's eyes went distant while Hermione and Richard waited patiently for her to answer. "It was on his left inner forearm. I know that much," she said with confidence. "I remember because he wrote with his left hand, and he was writing when I saw it. But other than that, everything is a general blur. It might have been darker in color, but that could just be my mind making things up."

Hermione sighed and looked to her father. "Dad, what about you? Do you remember anything about his appearance?"

"He was a striking man, as your mother has mentioned," Richard said.

Hermione nodded, her hand scribbling down notes.

"His robes were very noticeable." He paused, seemingly scanning his memories for the details. "They were obviously very expensive. I believe there were made of silver silk. Looking at them as he walked was almost like watching sliver water ripple with movement or as if there was a wind blowing against them."

Eyes narrowing, Hermione turned to her notebook and scribbled down his words.

"Bespelled robes," she muttered absently. Then looking to her parents, she said, "Well, that is interesting."

Looking down at her notebook again, Hermione scanned through what she had written.

Tilinus
Dark Hair
Striking Iridescent Eyes
Tattoo On Left Forearm
Left-handed
Silver Silk Robes (billow?)

There was only one person that she knew personally who could be described in such a way. It couldn't be him though. After all she watched him die each night, iridescent eyes and all. She almost wished it was him; it would make things so much easier.

"Okay…" she began again, her voice wavering and her hand rustling through her hair nervously . "Can you describe what happened? Do you remember the first time you met him?"

"Well, we first met him about three weeks ago. He came to the door one evening and asked if he could speak to us about an important private matter, and so we invited him in." Jean's voice faltered, sudden confusion marring her face. "I'm not really sure why we let him in that evening, really," she whispered. "You have to remember were still under the memory charm, but... There was something sincere about him. We could tell he meant us no harm, despite his imposing appearance."

Hermione repressed a shudder, profoundly disturbed by her mother's words. There was something about it, something off about her insistence that this strange wizard meant them no hard. What kind of magic had he used on her parents? Obviously, there had to have been some magic in play. Even in their Obliviated state, Hermione knew without a doubt that her parents would have never allowed a stranger into their home without a good reason. It just wasn't done.

Jean continued, "After he came into the house… I remember he already had his wand in his hand. Of course, I didn't recognize it for what it was at the time. We sat on the sofa, much as we currently are now, and he asked me to look into his eyes. After a time – I don't know how long – I was myself again and the memory charm was gone. Then he did the same to your father." Wringing her hands in her a lap, Jean looked to her husband and nodded for him to pick up the story.

Hermione looked from her mum, who now was fighting tears, to her father, who was sitting rather stiffly beside Jean, obviously uncomfortable with continuing the story. Hermione's stomach twisted in knots and anger began to simmer within her. She hated having to do this; her parents should have to be interrogated or explain anything. They should be allowed to move on with their lives. They shouldn't – she shouldn't – have had to deal with any of this in the first place. They had paid so much, them with their daily lives and memories, she in blood, sweat, and tears. Hermione loved her magical abilities, but she had no illusions about the problems within this magical culture. All it would take is some basic human rights when it came to Muggles, a basic understanding that they are people too, and the whole war could have been avoided in the first place.

Hermione grit her teeth against the sudden surge of anger just as Richard shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Gripping her pen and pressing it into the notepad, it left a deep black mark on the page. She heard her father finally pick up the story, and she looked up.

"You know, although I didn't know what magic was at the time..." he started, his voice coming across her ears as stunted and emotionless, "it makes me very uncomfortable that I allowed him to do that to you, Jean. I just sat and watched. I remember sitting and watching while he looked into your eyes. After a few minutes, he broke contact, and I could see that your eyes were brimming with tears."

Richard breathed in with a gasp, and the dam that had been holding back his true feelings seemed to break and emotion flooded his voice. "I didn't understand what was going on," he told them, "and honestly, I still don't. When you smiled, Jean, I think that helped. Any concern I might have felt were washed away." He paused and took a another deep breath, reaching deep down within himself to grasp the emotional stability on which he normally existed. "So, anyhow, that is how it happened. After Tilinus finished with Jean, he did the same to me."

Richard and Jean both sat in silence now. The couple was obviously shaken, and Hermione watched her parents unsure of what to do next. She felt like she had violated them throughout all of this – the Obliviation, the strange wizard, tes questioning – all of it rasped against her conscience and left her feeling responsible for their pain.

"It is odd thinking back now," Richard said, breaking the silence, his voice raw and unstable. "We should have been more wary, but there truly was no fear, only understanding and willingness." He then reached over to Jean, enclosing her smaller hand with his, and Jean leaned into him.

Hermione could see that both of them were looking pale. It was on the tip of her tongue to offer to stop and continue this another time when her mother spoke.

"It was very startling, you see," Jean's explained, the comforting touch of her husband seemingly giving her voice strength. "Afterward, we could only think of you. We needed to know where you were. What were you doing? Why you had sent us away? We were very confused, as I'm sure you can imagine. That first day, Tilinus told us about the war and your role in it. A few days later, he gave us some of the more recent copies of the Daily Prophet to read. Then, after we knew what was going on, he asked us what we wanted to do. We were anxious to return, and as soon as he could arrange it, we did so. It was he who took care of all the arrangements, financial and otherwise. He even put us in touch with an attorney that works in both the Muggle and Magic worlds, to manage the legal side of our relocation. It took several days for us to get everything in order, and by then a week had already passed. It was during the final days that I saw the tattoo. Tilinus had removed his outer robes on a particularly warm day, and then he received an owl and had to scribble a quick note. His sleeves were rolled up, but I really can't recall the tattoo... but maybe, with time, I'll remember."

"Do you recall anything else?" Hermione queried. "What about his voice? Was he British? Australian? Could you place his accent? What about his wand? Do you remember anything about that?"

Hermione knew that asking question after question wouldn't get her information any faster, but that knowledge couldn't quell her growing interest and the accompanying need to understand the situation.

"He spoke with a English accent dear, well-educated London, I'd say, but at times, it did take an edge of Spanish or Italian. If I had to, I'd guess that English wasn't his native language, though he did speak it extremely well."

"Okay, that could be helpful. Then again, it could have been a complete affectation... knowing how wizards are, I wouldn't be surprised. What about his wand? Anything you remember is helpful. Did it have any designs on it? What colour was the wood?"

"Now, that I do remember," Richard cut in. "His wand was made of a very light wood. It was inlaid with a darker wood in a intricate star motif. It was very different from yours, dear. It was thicker and had a slight curve to it."

Hermione was intrigued. She had never heard of a wand that was curved. Although, admittedly, wandlore information had been hard to come by for them in the past, and she was certain that there was a great deal of knowledge on the subject that she simple did not have.

"Is there anything else that you could tell me? Any other information? Any other meetings that happened? Anything odd or notable?"

"We only saw Tilinus a handful of times. The first day he came he didn't stay long. After he'd reversed the charm and given us a small explanation, he left us to process the developments. Beyond that, we met five more times, including when he delivered the Portkey. Each of the meetings began the same. He would repeat the check of our minds, to be sure that there was no residual damage from the Memory Charm removal, and then we would spend the time talking. He was very kind and considerate."

This made no sense to Hermione. She had studied Memory Charms extensively prior to performing one on her parents. For certain, she knew that, once a Memory Charm was removed and the memory restored, there was no need for further Legilimency, which is what she was sure this wizard was doing.

Who was this person? What did he want? What was he looking for in their minds? The only thing that she could think of was that he was searching for information on her, and that thought made her blood run cold. Hadn't they given enough of themselves, of their lives, to this war. Could she not be left to heal in peace.

Jean and Richard watched as Hermione's gathered her thoughts and waited for their daughter to speak again. They knew she would explain when she was ready.

With a quavering hands, Hermione set aside her notebook and looked up to her parents. "This really does not sound good. When he was looking into your eyes he was performing Legilimency, which is the art of reading another's mind. What I can't understand is why! I mean… the only thing I can think is that he was looking for information on me. The Wizarding world is not full of do-gooders, as I know well, and for him to follow you, to find you... There were very few people who knew where I'd sent you. He would have had to get the information directly from me or Harry or Ron. Tomorrow, Harry and I are going to go Hogwarts to see if we can find any information on this Tilinus. We need to know what he was up to, what are his political leaning and motivations. We need to know exactly what he wants with us."

Both her parents nodded. "You do what you must, love," Jean said comfortingly. "Just keep us posted on what you learn. We definitely want to understand what Tilinus wanted with us, dear. Though, I do still get the feeling that he meant no harm."

"What do you think, Richard?" Jean asked from where she lay in bed.

"I don't know," Richard whispered, pulling on his pajamas. "She certainly is alarmed. Do you think he did anything harmful to our minds?"

"I don't think so. It doesn't feel that way. But looking for information on Hermione… What if that is what he was doing? Do you think she is in danger?"

"Jean, she has been in danger for years now. We know that. He showed us the papers. It was full-blown war. There are times when she seems almost like our little girl again, but then, there are other moments when it seems as if I don't even know her." Richard sighed and climbed into bed next to his wife, pulling her into his arms.

"Exactly," Jean replied. "Something happened to her, changed her. And she is really concerned about Tilinus and how we returned home. I want to say that it is ridiculous, but it's not. I can understand her need to keep us safe, and she has incredibly good instincts," Jean told him as she snuggled deep under the covers.

"Well, that is how Hermione works. She never does anything by halves. I know she loves us and wants to keep us safe. Let's just let her have her way and do her little investigation. It can't hurt anything."

"I really don't want her going back to Hogwarts, Richard. I don't think she is ready." Jean's voice was conflicted.

"What do you mean?" Richard asked.

"Oh..." she said with a sigh. "I really don't know… since she's told me nothing about it." Jean let out an irritated huff. "Tilinus told us about the big battle, and it happened at Hogwarts. I know that is what haunts her each night. We've both heard her crying. I can't imagine that it would do her any good to return so soon. She's emotionally unstable and incredibly good at hiding that fact."

"I agree, Jean. We can speak to her in the morning, if you'd like, but we both know that she will go anyway. If she thinks what she is looking for there, then nothing we do can stop her. After all, nothing stands between our Hermione and her quest for knowledge."

Jean let out a tired chuckle that quickly morphed into a yawn. "You are right there. I just hope that she is okay."

"Me too, my love. Me too."

This fic was first posted in the 2012 SSHG Exchange on Livejournal. It was a gift for the lovely HBAR and would not be here today if it hadn't been for the support I received from Sixpence Jones. The original prompt will be posted at the end of the final chapter. I hope you enjoy!