The Knight Bus dropped her off two streets over from Privet Drive, so Hermione could walk the rest of the way and not draw attention to herself. She was glad she'd planned ahead with this – the loud BANG of the Knight Bus had to draw attention from Muggles. She had to sit down and let her stomach settle for a few long minutes after she'd gotten off. She had not expected the ride the Knight Bus had given her; if she'd been warned, she certainly wouldn't have eaten supper just before.
Hermione walked to Number 4 Privet Drive with a confidence in her step. She had decided against subterfuge and creeping around in the dark, instead deciding that the smartest move was to be out in the open, hiding in plain sight. She was wearing her mother's clothes and heels, a smart skirt and blouse set and pearls, and she had a shoulder bag with her. She'd put heavy makeup on as well, doing her best to look like an adult, or at least, an older teenager – one that might have a part-time job. She was glad she'd nearly finished her growth spurt – the height helped her look less like a child.
Hermione knocked smartly on the door, wearing a smile, and waited patiently. It was a Friday evening; she hoped that at least one of Harry's relatives would be home.
A moment later, a tall, pinched-looking woman opened the door, narrowing her eyes at her.
"Mrs. Petunia Dursley?" Hermione asked.
"Yes?" the pinched woman said, eyes narrowing.
"Please to meet you." Hermione swept her a short curtsy, more out of habit than anything. "I'm an Avon representative. A Marge Dursley gave me your name and said you might be interested in our new line. Do you have a moment? You can win a free gift for a few minutes of your time."
"Oh!" Petunia's face relaxes somewhat, the suspicion clearing. "Ah… yes, yes, come in."
"Thank you," Hermione said politely. She entered the house, casually glancing around. "You have a lovely home, Mrs. Dursley."
"Thank you," Petunia said automatically. She guided Hermione into the sitting room. "I have the kettle on. I'll just be a moment with tea."
Hermione took her time looking around. There were photos of the family on the walls – a fat man, the thin woman, and a very heavy child who reminded Hermione of a shorter version of Goyle. There was no sign on the walls of anyone else living in the home.
Petunia returned with a tea kettle, tea bags, and sugar. Hermione settled herself onto a chair and accepted tea gratefully, careful to maintain her sophisticated posture.
"Your son?" she inquired, indicating one of the pictures.
"Yes." Petunia puffed up. "Dudley. He's our treasure."
"He looks very strong," Hermione murmured, nodding. "He's a sports star, I imagine?"
"Boxing," Petunia said, nodding. "We're very proud of him."
"How charming." Hermione offered her a smile, and Petunia smiled back.
Hermione cleared her throat.
"Down to business," she said, straightening.
"Ah, of course." Petunia put her tea cup down.
"My name is Hermione Granger," Hermione said, oddly loudly. She extended her hand. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Dursley."
"Petunia Dursley," Petunia said, shaking her hand with a twisted smile. "You said Marge recommended me?"
"Yes – she said she'd thought you benefit from our new face mask!" Hermione lied, reaching into her bag for a catalog. There was a loud thump from up the stairs, and Hermione paused.
Petunia's face had flushed. "Just Dudley," she said, shaking her head. "He does so like to play!"
"Of course." Hermione gave her a smile.
Hermione went through a sales pitch, talking about Avon and their new products, most of which she knew nothing about. She knew enough, though, to make it sound legitimate, and she had the catalogs to seem like a real agent. She gave Petunia a small eyeshadow palette as her "free gift" (it wasn't even an Avon product – she'd gotten if off the clearance rack at a drug store), and Petunia seemed happy enough.
About half an hour later, Hermione let an embarrassed expression cross her face.
"Ah, I'm afraid your tea has gone right through me," she said, standing. "Might I use your restroom? I'll just leave these catalogs here for you to look through."
Petunia looked alarmed at this, conflict crashing in her eyes.
"It's upstairs and to the left," she said finally. "Dudley might be watching TV and playing very loudly, though. Just ignore him – he's a growing boy."
"Of course," Hermione said amicably. She headed up the stairs, an eye on Petunia as she poured over the catalogs. Once she was confident that Petunia was not following her up the stairs, she quickly darted to the right, to where she had heard the thump from.
Around the bend, she found door with a large lock on it and a cat flap. There was an empty plate outside of the cat flap, and Hermione's heart sank as she darted to the door, falling to her knees.
"Harry? Harry!" she hissed, pushing the flap open.
"Hermione?"
Harry's face appeared along the ground, and Hermione gasped.
"They've locked you in?" she asked, aghast.
"They don't let me out," Harry told her bleakly. "They never plan on letting me out. Ever. Not even to go back to Hogwarts."
Hermione felt sick to her stomach.
"Don't worry," she told him. "I'll get you out of here."
"Don't!" Harry begged. "You can't use magic – I've already gotten a warning letter about it. I don't want to be expelled!"
Hermione paused, then nodded.
"I'll come back tonight," she told him decisively. "Be ready to go."
Hermione didn't give him a chance to answer, just hurrying to the other end of the hall to flush the toilet and wash her hands, before going back down the stairs.
"That's much better," she said, giving Petunia what she thought of as an adult smile. "Now, have you found anything you like, Mrs. Dursley?"
To her surprise, she had, and Hermione filled out an actual order form for Petunia right there. She took her payment check and handed her a receipt automatically.
"Your purchases should arrive in a few short weeks," she told her. "Thank you so much for your time! I just know you'll be pleased with what you've bought."
Petunia said something meaningless back, while Hermione was still internally boggled. She wasn't even quite sure what to do with an actual order – her mother had been handling the Muggle side of being an Avon representative for her while she was at school.
After Hermione had left and Petunia had closed the door behind her, Hermione darted behind the large bushes quickly, kicking off her shoes. She pulled off her dress to reveal a black shirt, and she hurriedly wiggled into her black denims. Hopefully in the setting summer sun, no one would be able to see her in the shadows.
She was just tying her trainers and shoving her dress into her bag when a large boy waddled up the walk, whistling. Hermione recognized him immediately as the boy from the pictures, and she scowled. No wonder Harry was so skinny – Dudley was clearly eating his food, too.
Dudley went into the house, and Hermione sat for a long moment, considering her options. She snuck around the back of the house, looking around. Once the sun had set a bit more, she carefully pulled on her power, the air elemental inside her leaping up with glee. She carefully flew herself up the side of the house, banging into the wall repeatedly – it was still very hard to go just up.
To her horror, Harry's window had bars.
"This is barbaric!" Hermione exclaimed, and Harry came running to the window.
"Hermione!" he said. He paused. "…are you flying?"
Hermione abruptly realized that this could be very bad.
"Yes, of course," she said, angling her feet out of sight. "How else would I get up here? I borrowed a broomstick."
Harry looked quizzical.
"I thought you hated flying," he said.
"Oh, Harry!" she said. "I'm not going to let a little thing like not liking broomsticks stop me from helping my friend!"
She examined the bars in the window, being careful to keep her feet from Harry's view, far below the window. Let him think she was standing on a hovering broomstick. She almost wished she was – she was proud she was actually managing to hover, but she kept jerking around a bit erratically.
Hermione sighed. At least it'd be consistent with her image of being bad at broomstick-riding.
"I'm going to go get backup," Hermione said finally. "I'll be back later. Be ready to leave tonight."
The hope on Harry's face broke her heart, and Hermione gave him a determined smile as she lowered herself to the ground – falling the last six feet and crashing against the wall.
"Ow!"
With a sigh, Hermione hurried around the house, walked two blocks away, and threw out her wand hand. A moment later, a large purple bus appeared with a BANG, swerved around a car, and stopped short.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus!" the conductor announced. "Transportation for the- hey, weren't you on here earlier?"
"I was," Hermione said, mounting the stairs of the bus. "I need another ride."
"Alright," the conductor said amicably. "It's another fare, though. Where you wanna go?"
"Ottery St. Catchpole." Hermione sighed. "I need to go to the Burrow."