Chapter Seven
Hermione stared at George's closed front door with her mouth slightly open in shock. Never, never in all of her years of friendship with the man had he treated her so rudely. Not even when she was a prefect trying to stop him from testing products on first years. Many times over the years she could admit she hadn't been on her best behavior and he still managed to forgive her and treat her civilly. Why was everything between them suddenly different?
As soon as she asked herself that question she knew the answer. If she was honest with herself, she had known the answer for a long time whether she wanted to admit to it or not. As long as George wasn't openly declaring his feelings for her were more than just simple friendship, she could ignore the quiet voice in the back of her mind. Denial was very easy under the right circumstances.
"That didn't go well."
Hearing Igor's amused voice just steps down the corridor made her very angry. Was he actually managing to find some sort of perverse joy in her misery and the potential loss of her best friend? He was a horrible monster. Why did she ever pick up the fucking gold ring? Everyone involved would've been happier if she just left well enough alone. Her curiosity would be her downfall. What other horrors awaited her?
"Are you really finding all of this funny?"
"Yes, very much so, Charodeyka."
"I'm glad that my misery is something that amuses you."
She wanted to curse Igor in the face, blast a hole in George's front door, and then curse him in his face too. Why did the men in her life always have to cause her so much unnecessary stress? She should've given up on wizards years earlier and gone off to live in seclusion with a pack of wild kneazles. Surely they wouldn't drive her half as mad.
"You have to admit that you could've done a better job at explaining the truth of our unusual circumstances to your friend. If the roles were reversed, I would feel insulted and not want to be your friend either."
Hermione forced herself to close her eyes and take a deep breath before she said something insulting about preferring to be dead than his friend or something even worse. Despite the potion taking away all of the symptoms of her hangover, she still felt sick to her stomach. The complications in her life were getting to be too much. How could she get rid of them and go back to the relative peace she felt only a matter of days earlier?
"I suppose you think you could've done a better job explaining what happened?"
"Without a doubt."
Before it even registered in Hermione's mind what he was doing, Igor stood in front of George's front door and knocked loudly. She wanted to pull him away but it was too late. George opened the door again with a renewed expression of frustration. When he realized it was Igor standing there, he narrowed his eyes and tried to slam the door again. A well-placed leg kept the door open.
"If I might have a minute of your time, Mr. Weasley, I fear there has been a serious misunderstanding that we should clear up."
"I'm not interested in hearing another lie. What the two of you are doing is none of my business. Kindly leave me be."
George moved as if he was going to try to slam the door again, but Igor was determined. Hermione didn't know why he even bothered. Clearly George wasn't going to believe them so easily and she couldn't exactly blame him. Maybe if she'd been more perceptive and tried to break down the strange tale in more believable chunks she could've gotten through to him. At least Igor was strong enough to keep the door open even if it did look like George was only moments away from hexing them both.
"I can assure you, Mr. Weasley, that absolutely nothing of a romantic nor a…" Igor paused to shudder dramatically. "…sexual nature is transpiring between Miss Granger and myself."
She chose to ignore the obvious insult in his behavior. Scoffing to herself, she thought he should only be so lucky to be involved with her. There was nothing wrong or disgusting about her. What made him such a prize anyway? She'd seen how he aged and it wasn't anything to be proud of. Though they might have looked good and perfect immediately after being returned from paradise, she had a vivid memory of what decades of neglect did to his teeth and it wasn't pretty.
"How stupid do you really think I am? You, whoever you really are, were in her flat late at night drinking wine and you're still there this morning. What other explanation could you possibly offer that makes any sense?"
"I was kidnapped from the paradise of the after-life to be held against my will in her awful flat."
No closer to believing anything they said, George rolled his eyes with a deep, heavy sigh. It was a small step in the right direction that he didn't try to slam the door again. No one would've blamed him with Igor's frustrating petulance.
"You're really telling me that Hermione kidnapped you from the after-life?"
"Absolutely. One moment I was blissfully dead and the next I appeared in her horrible little hovel. It has been a nightmare I've been unable to wake up from."
Perhaps George came to the conclusion that no one would actually make up a story as fantastical and stupid as that one. He opened his door up wider and stepped back, a silent invitation for them to enter his flat. Hermione was willing to take any crumbs he offered. Grabbing him by the sleeve of his shirt, she pulled Igor in with her.
"Are all the flats in this building dreadful? I think I'd move."
"The moment you want to move to another building, Karkaroff, I'll be glad to help you pack."
"Stop calling me Karkaroff, Miss Granger."
"Then stop acting like a complete arse. I'm tempted to avada you right now just to get you to shut up."
"Oh, please do. That would make me very happy."
She released her hold on his sleeve to put some distance between them before she really did murder him. George was already inside his kitchen when she caught up with their reluctant host. Clearly he needed some caffeine of his own to get through the bizarre nature of their visit.
"Can I make you some tea, George?"
For the first moment their eyes met across the room, he was unable to hide the pain he felt. She hated herself for making him miserable. Life might have been so much easier in a number of ways if she ever managed to reciprocate the feelings she'd been trying to ignore he had, but she just couldn't do it. George deserved better than that. It took him a second to hide his true feelings behind a mask of annoyance.
"I can make it for myself, thank you."
His tone was harsher than it had ever been before. She worried she would embarrass herself further by crying right there in front of the two men. Emotions were high and she knew that no matter how the conversation in the kitchen went that morning, her friendship with George would never be the same. They were at the end of an era. Maybe they would be friends again, but it would never be like it had been before she picked up the gold ring.
"So you really are Karkaroff, aren't you?"
Hermione nearly sighed in relief when she realized he at least seemed on the verge of believing the insane story.
"Yes, I am."
"And what she told me was real? You came back because of a resurrection spell?"
"Apparently."
Igor held up his right hand and sighed. On his ring finger sat the gold ring that had been the source of all of the trouble. Hermione hadn't noticed that it was back in his possession. It seemed fair as it technically was his after all.
"This is my grandfather's ring. He left it to me in his will. He always told me there was something special about it, something magical, but he never elaborated no matter how often I asked. He merely explained that some day it would end up in the right hands at the right time when it was needed. The person who had it in their possession would feel a strange compulsion to read the inscription on the back almost against their will."
Hearing that explanation, George cut his eyes in Hermione's direction. He'd been upset with her for trying to recite the strange words out loud that night. Maybe he should've allowed her to follow through while he was a witness. Then there wouldn't have been any question whether or not she was telling the truth. It was hard to dispute what one sees with their own eyes, especially naked, supposedly dead wizards appearing out of thin air.
"I always assumed it was some family legend that wasn't true, but as I loved my grandfather, I was proud to wear his ring after he died. I was wearing it when I was murdered by the beast Greyback. He stole it and sold it to a horrible shop in Knockturn Alley where it has apparently been sitting on a dusty basement shelf for the past many years. It should've stayed there forever."
Igor's wistful sigh was as painful to Hermione's ears as the orchestra of the dead had been on Nearly Headless Nick's death day party. How could a single person make her so bloody frustrated with nothing more than a breath? No one had ever pressed her buttons in such an odious manner her entire life.
"You went home that night and read the back of the ring even after I told you it was a bad idea?"
"I'm afraid so. I don't know why I did it, George. I knew better. It just happened."
She wished she could offer him a better explanation than that, but she didn't have one. Igor's explanation that it was simply a compulsion for the right person made some sense despite her not caring for the possible implications. Experience taught her to never treat magic lightly. If she had been thinking clearly, she never would've dared to recite the incantation on the back of the ring. What if something far worse came out of it instead? While it was difficult to imagine anything more vexing and annoying, it could've been very dangerous.
"So what's the plan then? Are you going to report what happened or just keep him hidden in your flat for the rest of his life?"
Ignoring Igor's scowl at the thought, Hermione tried to think how she would respond to George's question. To be fair it was almost all she had been able to think about since he dropped out of nowhere naked on top of her. Though she'd found herself in bizarre and unusual circumstances since she learned magic was real and she was a witch, her present predicament seemed far worse than any other. Trusting George with her life, she decided in the end it was best just to be perfectly honest.
"I haven't the first clue. Truly. This mess is far beyond me at this point. I don't even know where to begin."
"I've always heard drowning was an almost pleasant way to die. Maybe I should find out for myself."
"Whichever method you use to kill yourself, Igor, could you just do it quietly? If I have to listen to more of your whinging…"
An amused laughter all but exploded out of George listening to their exchange. Hermione didn't find any part of it the slightest bit funny, but she was glad to no longer see the hurt scowl on her best friend's face. It was certainly an improvement and provided her with a little bit of hope that maybe they could emerge from the madness with their friendship at least somewhat intact. She didn't dare ask for more than that.
"The longer I'm around you two, the more I believe your ridiculous story. You really are in a pickle, aren't you?"
Hermione sighed. Whether it was from relief that George finally believed her or because the whole ordeal was exhausting, she wasn't sure. What did it matter? Everything was a nightmare. At least she still had George.
"Yes, I'm afraid so. What do you think I should do?"
"You can't hide him forever. It'll be too hard and secrets like that only get worse the longer you keep them. I would go straight to Kingsley and tell him the truth. And if there's one person you know could help, it's the Minister."
"The Minister? Please tell me you're not suggesting she go straight to the very top. That seems a bit extreme, don't you think?"
Igor wasn't wrong. If Kingsley wasn't such a dear friend or someone else was the Minister, she would never dream of going straight to them with her issue. Most Ministers for Magic throughout history were fairly worthless and incompetent. Never would she put Kingsley into that category. The changes and reforms he'd made in office since the war ended were likely to put him on all of the lists of the very best Ministers, provided of course that he didn't suddenly start making horrible decisions or let the power go to his beautiful, bald head.
"Kingsley Shacklebolt is the current Minister and we've been friends for years. I'm sure he can stop being the Minister long enough to offer me some friendly advice."
Igor's sighs were wearing on her already thin nerves. Would it be terribly wrong to assist him in his present quest to return to paradise? As soon as the thoughts entered her brain, she tried to shake them out. Thanks to the damned war, she already had death on her conscience. She didn't think she could handle much more, even if they annoyed her nearly to tears.
"Maybe Kingsley could have some of the Unspeakables research the ring. They might be able to tell us more about it and what it's capable of."
The wizard in the midst of the mess seemed horrified by the very idea.
"This ring will remain in my possession at all times, Mr. Weasley. It was bad enough that the werewolf stole it off my finger before I was even cold just to sell for a couple of galleons. My grandfather claimed it had great power, or rather, great access to power. While I don't understand all that that means, I won't allow strangers to take it from me to experiment."
"All right. Fair enough. No Unspeakables. Seems like a lot of trouble can be stirred up by your ugly ring."
Igor's sniff of frustration at George's insult of his ring threatened to make Hermione laugh. Or it was just the absurdity of her entire present life. Who could say for certain?
"There are still enemies out there who would love to kill me again. We must be very careful…"
"But isn't that what you've wanted since you realized you were alive again? To die. Why not just run outside into the middle of Diagon Alley, announce loudly to everyone who you really are, and just wait for the killing curses that are sure to come?"
"There is a difference, madam, in simply returning to paradise via a nearly painless death and subjecting myself to being brutally murdered again by someone who has every intention of making me suffer. Being tortured to death was unpleasant enough the first time. If I could, I'd like to avoid the experience again."
"You really like to listen to yourself talk, don't you?"
His frustrated sputters of indignation were drowned out by George's loud laughter. At least someone was enjoying their morning. If he was truly angry with her that morning, the entertainment she and her unwanted houseguest unwittingly provided appeared to be smoothing it all over. Hermione nearly rolled her eyes. Glad someone could find her misery amusing. George sipped at his tea like he was in front of the telly enjoying his favorite program. It was enough to make her think about casting a stinging hex right at his stomach. If she was miserable and uncomfortable, everyone else around her deserved to be too.
"Would you like me to pop you some popcorn, George? Would that help you find just a little bit more enjoyment out of my misery?"
"No, thanks. I'm fine. If you two want to keep his existence quiet for the time being, I'll help you with that."
"Thank you."
"Yes, thank you, Mr. Weasley."
"But what are you going to do about Pasha? Once he hears old Headmaster Karkaroff is alive again, he's going to have a few opinions of his own."
She didn't even try to stop her frustrated groan. It was all getting so very, very complicated. The more time passed, the more she wished she'd obliviated his memories from him that first night and dumped him naked at St. Mungo's. What other horrible issues would he bring into her life before it was all over? The possibilities were endless and horrifying.
"Pasha? Who's Pasha? Another strange wizard who likes to drop by your flat drunk in the middle of the night, Charodeyka?"
Seeing George's red cheeks after that rude statement made keeping her hands and her wand to herself nearly impossible. She wanted to curse him in parts of his body that would make him cry. The longer she was around him, the more she could understand Greyback's desire to torture him. Another snarky remark and she might do the same. Except, she would make sure he continued to live afterwards as a final punishment.
"Pasha is our neighbor. He lives in the flat across from mine. His full name is Pavel Poliakoff."
Based on the widening of his deep blue eyes, Igor remembered his old student. He hadn't been kind to Pasha, a fact the younger wizard had never forgotten. Hermione didn't have any idea what Pasha would do when he found out his old Headmaster was alive again.
"I can't stay here any longer. You… owl this Minister friend of yours. Tell him who I am. Maybe he can…"
"What is your problem with Pasha, Igor?"
He gulped, another dramatic action that earned him an eyeroll. Could the man make it through a single conversation without being exasperating?
"It's not Pavel I have a problem with. If his mother found out I was alive again, let's just say what Greyback did to me would be nothing. Galina is the sort to hold grudges and… just please don't tell him I'm here."
Her curiosity was piqued. She wanted to know more about the history he had with Pasha's mother. If she was anything at all like her son, Hermione couldn't imagine her being the least bit unpleasant. Pasha was kind and friendly. Everyone loved him, except for his old Headmaster, something no one ever quite understood.
"This entire saga just gets more fascinating by the second. I'm tempted to go knock on Pasha's door and invite him to join this discussion."
"No! Absolutely not. I beg you, Mr. Weasley, don't tell him I'm here."
There was panic in his tone. It might have been funny if Hermione wasn't worried what kind of hell he would continue to force her way. She could feel a headache coming on that had nothing to do with the hangover she woke up with. Undeterred by Igor's fear, George laughed again.
"What did you do to Pasha's poor old mummy, Karkaroff? Must've been pretty bad to be so frightened."
Hermione didn't want to be there another second. Feeling on the edge of losing it completely, she grabbed Igor's arm to drag him towards the front door. They could continue their discussion about what to do next back in her flat. Preferably after she had a long nap.
"We're leaving, George. Thanks for all of your help. I'll let you know what we decide to do next."
Refusing to be there a moment longer, Hermione opened the front door and pushed Igor out into the corridor straight into their neighbor. Whatever deities controlled the chaos of Earth must've been laughing at the strange turn of events. George certainly was.
"Excuse me. I didn't see you."
"It's Hermione's fault. She pushed me."
"Hermione?"
Pasha looked up with a bemused expression on his face. When he saw her leaving George's flat, he offered her the same warm smile he usually did.
"Good morning, Hermione. I don't know your friend."
When it was clear Igor was too frozen and fearful to open his mouth, she was forced to make the most minimal introductions possible. It would be suspicious otherwise. Despite how Igor treated him when he was his student, Pasha wasn't stupid. He would know something was wrong.
"This is my friend Igor, Pasha. He's staying with me for a few days. Igor, this is Pasha."
Both men shook hands, one a little more enthusiastically than the other.
"Pleasured to meet you, Igor. My father's name was Igor."
Staring at the two men facing each other in profile, Hermione was struck by the similarities she'd never noticed: the same dark wavy hair, the same strong jaw, the same blue eyes, even the same shaped nose. She sighed, feeling weary down to her very bones. What other long lost secrets in Igor's past was she doomed to discover?