As she requested in her return letter to Mrs Weasley, Hermione was packed up and ready to go to the Weasley's Burrow a few hours before noon on Friday. After much convincing, Mary and Bert went to work as normal Friday morning, settling on saying their goodbyes at a farewell dinner on Thursday evening.
Hermione tried to push her guilt aside and instead focused on the excitement of going back to the Wizarding World. She couldn't wait to get back "home." Now, more than ever, she felt the strong ties to the magical world she discovered at eleven. She never felt like home was in Lavenham with her parents, and now Hermione somewhat understood why.
Hermione kept an eye on the small, old clock on the mantel, willing the minute hands to speed up. She couldn't wait to be utterly annoyed by Ron and totally entertained by Ginny. Hermione wasn't too close to the Weasley twins, Fred and George (in fact, she was ashamed to admit that she couldn't tell the two of them apart most of the time), but she still couldn't wait to see what they had been up to over their summer holiday. The twins always seemed to have some sort of scheme up their sleeves.
One of Ron's other older brothers, Percy, was someone Hermione strived to be. He was quiet, reserved, and studious. He always received top marks and was a Prefect during their first year and head boy their previous year. Percy graduated from Hogwarts and took a job at the Ministry of Magic. Hermione couldn't wait to ask him all about it and, perhaps, get some insight on how to land a position at the Ministry after school. At the very least, she wanted to ask him what she could do during their fourth year to increase her chances of becoming a prefect.
Hermione glanced at the clock again and stifled a groan. The minute hand seemed to be suspended and not moving at all. Her gaze, however, was interrupted by a knock at the front door. Hermione frowned through her excitement. She had thought the Weasleys would come through her fireplace using the vast Wizarding Floo Network, not knock on the front door. Knocking seemed so Muggle-ish, and Hermione was disappointed with the lack of magic, but only slightly. She was, after all, going to open the door to go back "home."
Hermione practically ran to the front of the house and tried (and failed) to calm her bushy hair before ripping the door open. To her surprise, no one with flaming red hair was standing on her front stoop. Instead, Finnegan's twinkly eyes greeted her.
"Mornin', Hermione!" Finn said brightly.
"Finnegan!" Hermione said, surprised. "Good morning! Sorry, I wasn't expecting you."
"No need to apologise," Finn said. "It's not me usual route time. But I needed to talk to yeh 'fore yeh left. Do ye have a few minutes?"
Hermione found it odd that Finnegan knew she was about to leave but dismissed it quickly. He was a Wizard, after all. "Sure, what's going on?"
"Are yeh parents home?"
"No, they've gone to work."
"Do you mind if I come in for a minute then?" Finnegan asked.
"Absolutely, please come in," Hermione said, stepping aside so Finnegan could enter the Granger house. Crookshanks gave Finnegan a bored glance before settling back in her perch on top of Hermione's trunk.
"Thanks," Finn said, looking around the Granger's house. "This isn't what I pictured based on the mail that came in," he said.
"What do you mean?"
"No matter," Finn said, turning towards Hermione. "I know yer friends are comin' soon, so I'll make this quick. The Quidditch World Cup? Yer goin', right?"
"Yeah, I am. How did you-"
"No matter," Finnegan interrupted her. "I know a lot o'things. But the World Cup - I need yeh to do me a favour: the Department of Magical Games an' Sports are plannin' on havin' it in Dartmoor, partly on me cousin's land. Me cousin, Liam Roberts, is a Muggle, and I've heard a bit o' grumblin from some very unsavoury people that Muggles may be targeted."
"Oh my!" Hermione exclaimed.
"I won' be able to go, and me sister'll probably be too busy to keep an eye on 'em. I was hopin' yeh and yer friends could," Finnegan said sheepishly.
"Of course," Hermione said. "But I-"
"Yer underage and can't protect 'em. I know that," Finnegan said. "But me sister will be there an' you can get in touch with her if there's any danger."
"That sounds fine," started Hermione, her mind going in all different directions. "But I can't just send an owl every time I notice something nefarious, can I," she said, more as a statement of fact than a question.
"Right," Finn said with a twinkly grin. "That's why I'm givin' yeh this." Finnegan held his hand. In his palm was a simple yet beautiful beaded friendship bracelet. Hermione recognised the simple plastic-coloured and lettered beads from a bracelet-making kit she had when she was much younger. Garnet and deep yellow beads were bookends to white beads with black letters, all connected by a thin, worn leather strap. As Hermione took the bracelet, she noticed that all the beads were pretty worn as well. Her eyes flashed over the letters: K-E-E-L-I-N.
"Who's Keelin?" Hermione asked, running her fingers over the battered letters.
"Keelin's me twin I was tellin' yeh about," Finnegan said. "She's also in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes on the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee."
"Oh, wow!" Hermione exclaimed.
"Yeah, she's working with the Department of Magical Games an' Sports on the World Cup planning. She's in charge of dealing with the Muggles who stumble upon it, I guess." Finnegan gestured towards the bracelet. "But this here - she made me this when we were kids. Actually-" Finn paused, remembering. "I think she made both me an' me cousin one the same year, right before we got accepted to Hogwarts.
"Anyways, I made her one back with my name on it, and we wore it everywhere. When we got older and went our own ways, I used the Protean Charm on them to communicate whenever we wanted."
"I don't think I've ever heard of the Protean Charm," Hermione frowned.
"I would think not," Finnegan chuckled. "It's considered advanced N.E.W.T.-level magic. Flitwick doesn't even try to teach 'til year seven."
Hermione was trying to take everything in, but still trying to get used to Finnegan being a Wizard and talking about the Wizarding World. "What does the Protean Charm do?" Hermione managed to ask.
"I was gettin' to that," Finnegan grinned. "It's a charm that allows several objects to change simultaneously through a common purpose. So if I change me bracelet, hers will change too and vice versa. "
"That's brilliant! What gave you the idea?"
Finnegan's face darkened. "That's not so brilliant." He sighed. "We actually got the idea from Yeh Know Who."
Hermione fought the urge to drop the bracelet.
"The actual charm isself isn't nefarious, but using it to coordinate over distances is," Finnegan continued. "When Yeh Know Who was in power, he had all o' his followers get a tattoo of the Dark Mark to match his. When he wanted ev'ry one to assemble, he'd press it. He'd sometimes shoot the mark in the sky, so they'd know where to go."
"That's dreadful," Hermione said.
"That's not even the half o' it," Finnegan said. "But it gave us this idea, so now, whenever I need Keelin to know something or for her to apparate to me, I use that bracelet. And now, you can do the same. I told Keelin I was giving it to yeh, and she agreed to apparate to yeh if yeh call her."
"How do I use it?" Hermione asked.
"All yeh gotta do is twist the bracelet back 'n forth around yer wrist seven times like this." Finnegan gripped his right wrist with his left hand. His right hand made a fist and twisted within the grasp of his left hand: clockwise, counterclockwise, clockwise, counterclockwise, clockwise, counterclockwise, clockwise. "And if you do that, you can whisper a message, and Keelin's bracelet will show it."
"How will she know to look at it, though," Hermione said, her mind trying to poke holes in the plan so it could be more solid.
"The bracelet gets warm and vibrates," Finn said. "So, for example, if you twist it on yer wrist and say, 'Apparate,' Keelin will feel it and come right to yeh. I already told her yeh will have it."
"Brilliant!" Hermione said.
"I agree," Finn said with a smirk. "So you'll keep an eye out, yeah?"
"Absolutely," Hermione said, nodding.
"I appreciate it, lassie," Finnegan said with a slight bow. "Now, I best be on my way-"
"Wait!" Hermione blurted out. "What do you think is going to happen? Where did you hear about all of this? Am I…" Hermione tried to swallow the panic rising in her throat. "...am I in danger?" During her second year, when the Chamber of Secrets was opened, Hermione was made painfully aware that her "Mudblood" status made her a target to many people.
"I dont think so," Finnegan said after a pause. "I can't make any guarantees, o'course, but it just sounds like some idiot Death Eaters wanting to relive their glory days of causing mayhem."
Hermione's bushy eyebrows furrowed in fear and anger.
"But, with that said," Finnegan continued, "I'm sure yeh'll be safe, especially with Arthur Weasley looking after yeh. He's a great wizard. Coulda been an Auror easily but just loves Muggle inventions too much. And if his wife comes - yeh'd have NO problems. I'd never cross Molly Weasley if I could avoid it."
Hermione didn't quite know how to respond, so she just awkwardly nodded, suddenly acutely aware of how frizzy her fringe was.
"Right. I best be off, then," Finnegan said, turning towards the door. "I appreciate you keeping an eye on me cousin, Liam, and his family. He's a right good bloke."
"Any time," Hermione said, inwardly cringing at how wistful she sounded.
"Enjoy the World Cup! I'd've loved to go, but duty calls!"
Finnegan started opening the door. "Wait!" Hermione said, stopping him in his tracks. "How will I get your bracelet back to you?"
"Just send it by owl once you get back to school," Finn said with a grin. "I accept all forms of the post."
And with one last glance, Finnegan was out the door.
Hermione only had a moment to breathe when she heard a distant roar from her fireplace. Crookshanks took off down the hall. She turned and walked back into the sitting room just in time to see her fireplace glow green. The Weasleys must be coming!
A fine mist of dust and ash filled the air. Hermione closed her eyes for a moment to clear them, and when she opened them, they focused on none other than Ron Weasley.
"Ron!" Hermione yelled, her heart skipping a beat.
"'Mione!" Ron grinned goofily as he rushed to climb out of the fireplace. The pair awkwardly hugged before realising what they were doing. Thankfully, their mutual embarrassment was cut short by the appearance of Molly Weasley in the hearth.
"Hermione, dear!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed as she rushed over to Hermione and gave her a warm hug. "So wonderful to see you!"
"And you, Mrs Weasley!"
"What a lovely home you have," Mrs Weasley continued. "Are your parents home? They're such dears!"
"No, unfortunately, they both had to work today," Hermione said.
"Shame," Mrs Weasley said. "I'd've loved to say hello."
"What is this thing?" Ron squealed from across the room. Hermione spun around to see him looking at the ancient television set the Grangers had.
"A television set," Hermione said. "Go ahead and turn that top nob."
Ron did as instructed, and the electric hum of the television's tubes broke the silence. Ironically enough, the television turned into an old rerun of Postman Pat.
"Wicked!" Ron nearly shouted. He was so excited. "So it's like a picture frame but with sound?" He was shouting over the high volume - the knob to turn the television on was also the volume control, and Ron must have turned it to full blast. Hermione went over and lowered the volume a bit.
"Well, Muggle pictures don't move, remember?" Hermione reminded him. "This lets us watch shows and other things like the news."
"This is the news?" Ron gestured towards Postman Pat in his mail truck.
"No, that's a kid's show," Hermione said. "It helps entertain little kids."
"I wish I had something like that," Mrs Weasley said jokingly. "Maybe I would have had a bit more time to myself!"
"What's this?!" Ron exclaimed. In the five seconds in which Hermione was listening to Mrs Weasley, Ron had moved on from the television to the GameBoy Bert had bought for Hermione (but ended up using himself much more than Hermione ever did). "A handheld tele-fision?"
"It's tele-VIS-ion, but no," Hermione said with the proper pronunciation. "That's called a 'GameBoy.' You can play games with it."
"Like Wizard Chess?" Ron was an outstanding Wizard Chess player.
"I think there may be a chess game you can buy, but no, not really," Hermione explained.
"Ron, I swear you become more like your father daily," Mrs Weasley sighed. "As it would be with my husband, I doubt we will be able to tear him away from here any time soon."
"Oh, I don't mind at all," Hermione shared a knowing smile with Mrs Weasley.
"Well, I do. I have a full day of errands to run," Mrs Weasley smiled despite her busy day. "If you're sure you don't mind, why don't you and Ronald come to the Burrow after he's done exploring like his father? Do you think you both can manage the Floo Network?"
Hermione's heart nearly exploded in excitement. "Oh yes! Of course!" She turned to see if Ron had agreed as well, but he was already on his way down the hall, making discoveries with every step.
"Then it's settled," Mrs Weasley winked. "Just make sure to come back before supper time - I'm making a roast!"
"Sounds great!" Hermione said.
"Good luck collecting him," Mrs Weasley said as she stepped back into the fireplace.
"What is this?!" Ron called from the other room, almost as if on cue.
"Thanks, I may need that," Hermione smiled.
"The Burrow!" Mrs Weasley shouted as she threw the floo powder down at her feet in a green-tinted burst of flames.
Hermione turned on her heel and hurried down the hall to find Ron. She found him in the home office, looking at a set of her parents' periodontal scalers with a look of horror. "What in the bloody hell are these? Torture devices?"
Hermione chuckled. "Some people think so," she said. Ron flashed her a look of terror. "They're dental tools," Hermione explained. "And many people don't like going to the dentist."
"With tools like these, it's no wonder," Ron shook his head. "Bloody terrifying. What do they use them for? Stabbing your tongue?"
Hermione laughed. "No, not at all. Basically, a dentist would use a periodontal scaler to-"
"What are these?" Ron cut her off, picking up a pack of sugar-free Altoids.
Hermione smiled. Watching Ron experience the strong mints was going to be highly entertaining. "They're candy. Well, kind of candy. Try them."
Ron struggled to open the small package before inspecting the thin sheets inside. "Is it chalk?" he asked.
"It has a similar texture," Hermione offered and watched with amusement as Ron placed the square mint onto his tongue.
"It 'urns!" Ron yelled, barely shutting his mouth enough to form the hard "b" sound. His hands flew to his mouth, waving an imaginary fire away.
"Have you never had a peppermint before?" Hermione asked.
"Not this strong!" Ron said, sticking his tongue out and crossing his eyes to try to look at it. "Is it gone?"
"Yes, it dissolved," Hermione laughed.
"Can I have another one, then?" Ron said, holding the pack.
"After all that?"
"Now that I know what to expect, it was rather pleasant," Ron said, putting another on his tongue without waiting for an answer.
"Why don't you keep that pack?" Hermione offered.
"Fred and George won't know what hit them," Ron grinned from ear to ear.
"So what shall we do?" Hermione asked, excited to be able to show Ron around Lavenham. "We could go to the library or explore some of the shops downtown or-"
"Is this your room?" Ron said as he peeked in the doorway.
Hermione hesitated and could feel her cheeks grow hot. "Yes," she said. Her eyes quickly scanned her room over Ron's shoulder to ensure nothing was embarrassing out in the open. Crookshanks, who had escaped to Hermione's room to avoid the Weasleys, scowled at the intrusion from his position on Hermione's bed.
"Not what I pictured at all," Ron said, turning slowly around.
"What did you picture?"
"More books," Ron said with a grin.
"They're all in my trunk," Hermione replied with a grin of her own.
"Is that your commuter?" Ron changed the subject and pointed to the white box in the corner of Hermione's desk.
"My computer? Yes," Hermione corrected him.
"Wicked!"
Not wanting to get into the minute details of computers with the mystified Wizard, Hermione changed the subject to something she knew would draw Ron's attention away from the big white box.
"There are all kinds of Muggle restaurants in town if you want to grab a spot of lunch," Hermione said, trying not to laugh as Ron's head spun away from the computer.
"Excellent. I'm starving!"
Hermione could barely contain her smile as she and Ron walked the cobblestoned streets of Lavenham on their way to the shops and restaurants. She made sure to stop into the library to introduce Mildred, the Librarian, to her best friend from school. Ron had been amazed at all of the computers in the library - so much so that Hermione had to mention the restaurant again to tear him away.
Lunch at the pub was relatively unremarkable - Ron may not be used to the Muggle world, but he certainly was an expert at eating and drinking. Ron was, expectedly, fascinated with Muggle money and insisted on trying to figure out the cheque.
"So there are 100 pence to a pound?" Ron asked, his brows furrowed.
"Yes," Hermione nodded.
"What a strange breakdown," Ron said, shaking his head.
"Stranger than Wizard money?" Hermione whispered incredulously. "Hardly."
"What's strange about Wizard money?"
"29 Knuts in one Sickle? 17 Sickles in a Galleon? Come off it," Hermione said. "The mental math is much more difficult."
"At least it isn't three digits, innit?" Ron stubbornly said.
"It's much easier to count by hundreds," Hermione countered.
"Is not," Ron set his jaw.
"Then tell me how many knuts are in 4 Galleons, 16 Sickles?" Hermione spat. Ron's face turned red as he scrunched up his forehead and tried to figure out the math in his head. "Come on, now. You can't, can you?" Hermione asked though it was more of a statement.
"I can," Ron said. "I just have to think."
"It's 2,436 knuts, if you were wondering," Hermione said. "But it's much easier to figure 1,000 pence in ten pounds."
"Do you always have to be right?" Ron muttered.
"No, but it's usually the case," Hermione replied.
Ron grinned. "Shall I call you Her-Brain-y when we get back to Hogwarts, then? I think I should."
Hermione felt herself blush. "You wouldn't!"
"Don't dare me," Ron laughed. "You forget who my brothers are."
"Fair point," Hermione conceded.
"Where are we off to now?" Ron asked.
"Well," Hermione started, trying to hide a smile. During lunch, she had a brilliant idea that she was pretty sure would make Ron's head spin. "There's an arcade down the way."
"A what?"
"An arcade," Hermione repeated. "You'll see. It's too hard to explain."
"Something Her-Brain-y can't explain?" Ron said with a smirk. "It must be something mental, then."
Hermione and Ron rounded the corner, and she held open the nondescript heavy wooden door, gesturing for Ron to walk in. Hermione scurried behind him and watched his face lit up by the neon flashing lights of hundreds of games in the arcade. His eyes grew wider and wider as the bright coloured lights flashed within them to the electronic sounds of video games.
"Blimey!" was all Ron could utter.
Hermione grabbed a few notes from her beaded purse and exchanged them for tokens for Ron to use inside the games, explaining the general mechanics of arcade games. "So you put a token to pay, and then you can play the game. Some games give out prizes, and others give out tickets. You can save up your tickets and trade them in for a prize. A few don't give you anything except the fun of playing them."
"So they just give you free things?"
"Well, if you think about it, you're technically paying for them since you're spending money on tokens."
"But you're not paying for them; you're winning them, right?" Ron asked, only half paying attention. His gaze had fallen to a set of skee ball machines along the side wall.
"Right, but you're paying for the chance to- never mind," Hermione sighed, knowing it was no use. There was way too much stimulation to let any sort of reason or facts inside Ron's head.
"What does this one do?" Ron asked, walking to the skee ball machines. "Do you slide down them?"
"No," Hermione chuckled. "Here, watch." Hermione placed a token in the slot, and with a loud rumble and knocking sounds, multiple wooden balls rolled down the shoot at the side of the machine. Hermione reached in, grabbed a ball, and rolled it up the slide. Ron and Hermione watched as the ball was launched upwards and landed in a hole towards the middle of the board.
"See?" Hermione said. "Since I rolled the ball into the hole marked 100, I get 100 points."
"Wicked!" Ron exclaimed. "Can I try?"
"Of course!" Hermione smiled.
Ron grabbed a wooden ball, swung his arm back, and with the force of a professional Quidditch player, let his arm fly forward. Unfortunately for Ron, his timing was a bit off. He kept his grip on the ball a second too long and, therefore, flew straight up in the air, bounced off the high ceiling and landed squarely on his head.
"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed, grabbing the top of his head in pain.
"Are you ok?!" Hermione said, trying not to laugh.
"I nearly knocked myself out!" Ron said, still rubbing his head. "This game is dangerous!"
"And Quidditch isn't?" Hermione exclaimed, but by the end of her question, Ron had already moved on to the next game: PacMan. Three tokens later, Ron was kicking the base of the machine in anger. "That wand doesn't move right," he growled.
"It's called a 'joystick,'" Hermione pointed out.
"Here, I'll prove it to you," Ron said, walking to the next machine with a joystick. This one happened to be a giant claw machine with stuffies to win. Ron studied the device, peaking around each side of the glass deep in thought. "So I just try to get the claw to pick up a stuffy?"
"Yes," Hermione said. "But it's a lot harder than it looks-"
Hermione's warning was interrupted by the sound of Ron dropping the token into the machine and a loud electronic-sounding melody that seemed to delight Ron.
"Did you hear that!?" he exclaimed. "That was so cool!" he continued, not waiting for Hermione's reply.
Ron took hold of the joystick deftly and inched forward, back, and side to side. His immense concentration was evident as he stuck his tongue out and squinted at the claw from all angles. Suddenly, the claw descended and barely touched any of the stuffed prizes.
"Why did it drop?!" Ron said, his face turning red.
"There's a timer, and you ran out of time," Hermione explained.
"That's bollocks!" Ron yelled. "Give me another token."
Ron's next try was a bit quicker, but the claw still came up empty. His third turn caught one of the stuffed animals by the tag, but it quickly fell away.
After exchanging five more pounds for tokens, Ron was sweating with concentration, frustration, embarrassment, and anger.
"Why don't we try something else?" Hermione asked as she returned with the exchanged tokens.
"No," Ron said simply and put another token into the machine. He flipped his head, trying to get his sweaty fringe out of his eyes. Hermione's hand instinctively went up and brushed them out of his eyes on his behalf. "Thanks," Ron mumbled, breaking his concentration with a goofy grin. Hermione's stomach somersaulted.
Ron held Hermione's gaze for a moment more than would have been natural before turning his attention back to the claw machine. He seemed to have even more drive to win one of the stuffed toys scattered tightly under the swinging claw.
As the timer started to run out, Ron slid the joystick around ever so slightly, lining the claw up with a stuffy he had wiggled loose with the nearly five pounds worth of tokens he had previously fed the machine. With more anticipation than a Quidditch match, Ron's hand hovered over the "drop" button. Finally, with one second left, he let his hand fall onto the button.
Hermione held her breath. Ron did the same. The sounds of the arcade seemed to melt into silence.
The claw dropped straight down.
The arms wrapped themselves around the lilac stuffy like a perfect hug.
The claw started to rise, still clenched onto the purple furry prize.
Hermione and Ron watched as the claw hovered over the rest of the stuffies on its way to the chute. Finally, with a flourish of electronic music, the claw opened, dropping the toy down the shoot into the little compartment hidden by a hinged door.
Ron and Hermione erupted in cheers, jumping up and down and hugging each other. After their brief celebration, they awkwardly broke apart, and Ron crouched to retrieve his prize. Out from the chute, Ron pulled a small, soft lilac otter. Ron admired it for a moment before turning to Hermione and handing it to her. "I won it for you," he said proudly.
Hermione beamed as she took the prize and hugged it to her chest. "Awww, it's so cute! I love otters!"
"I knew that," Ron said, blushing. "That's why I aimed for that one." Hermione knew he was fibbing (since she had never in her life talked about otters before), but she didn't care in the least. She was just so happy to have the gift and see how proud it made Ron to give it to her.
Before she knew it, it was time for Hermoine and Ron to head to the Burrow. It took a bit of dragging to get Ron out of the arcade, but she got him excited about showing the rest of his family the stuffy he won her. They returned to the Granger household and rounded up her school trunk and bags. Hermione made sure to keep the otter with her so Ron could show it off.
As they prepared to leave, Hermione was glad that her parents hadn't made it home yet - she didn't want another awkward goodbye, especially with Ron there. It would have ruined what was otherwise one of the most delightful afternoons of her life.
Hermione took one last look around the Granger Cottage before throwing the floo powder down at her feet, shouting, "The Burrow!" along with Ron. The green fire danced around them as they started their floo network journey from Lavenham to Ottery St Catchpole.