HPNS- Chapter 16

FIRE AND WATER

Read Chapter 15 here or start at the beginning

The Elfish Wine had quite an effect on Hermione’s brain and she felt warm and silly as she walked arm in arm with Michael. The Hogsmeade streets were quite empty and Hermione didn’t care that the frequency of cloaked figures was increasing. It didn’t matter that Josh, Ginny and Harry had left early. It was now that the ends of her nerves had loosened and she felt incredibly safe in Michael’s arms. He lit a pipe and warm smoke wafted out in spirals that Hermione gazed at lazily. The smell of smoked wood descended onto his crisp white shirt and cravat, and she took full breaths of the intoxicant.

“I had a charming time this evening with you Hermione” Michael said, calmly brushing stray brown hairs away from her face. She mumbled back contently.

They walked a fair distance down the village discussing more of their careers and lives. A strong cold breeze fluttered the roof tops of the houses and simultaneously something stirred within Hermione.

“Michael, I should be getting home. It’s not safe outside anymore and it’s getting quite late”, she said firmly.

He held her closer and said with a note of finality in his voice “We’ll walk back together”

Hermione blushed and lightly protested saying that she could manage to make it to her apartment alone. But Michael held her hand and they walked towards her home slowly.

The silence grew prolonged and was quite a give-away, until Hermione said, “Will you tell me what spell you used to remove the wine stains I spilled on your shirt this evening? It seems a useful spell”

“Later- later, not just now, Hermione” Michael murmured in her ear, and fondled the nearest ear lobe. It echoed inside her brain, where all instinct and guard was being suppressed for this wonderful oblivion she was experiencing. The walk home didn’t feel tiresome at all, as the couple floated up to the driveway of King’s Abbot where Hermione lived.

She felt as though she heard a rustling behind the dandelion hedge but ignored it. She looked up at him sweetly as he stood at the doorway, her front door was ajar.

“Would you like to come in for some coffee?” she asked him a little nervously as she hadn’t cleaned up that day according to her usual standards.

“I’m fine thank you. In fact I have to go for work early tomorrow. I’ll be taking leave of you then Hermione” Michael replied pleasantly, blowing out more smoke. She stared at him wistfully, wondering if this was going too fast or too slow. Michael was slowly walking away, his posture perfect and spine upright. A small low sigh escaped Hermione’s lips before she shut the door on a memorable evening. But there was more.

He turned around and walked up the stairs once more. He took her trembling hands in his and asked “Would you like to accompany me to the Annual Auror’s Fund Raiser Ball next week? I’m not too fond of dancing, but now it seems a foolish waste not to be asking such a beautiful companion for another evening together”

Hermione blinked at him for a moment.

He was asking her out himself - and to the Auror’s Ball - which she herself had wanted to attend so badly - but she had been waiting for an invitation - from Ron.

“I-I of course I will Michael” she replied finally, breaking into a smile. As expected, Michael smiled back appreciatively.

What she didn’t expect was him closing into her and sweeping her into a kiss.

She felt herself shrink back a little while he kissed her with immense decorum. His lips tasted a little burnt and bitter from the tobacco and the taste slipped down Hermione’s throat. She felt his fingers move on her waist and they had sliced the steak at dinner. One hand entwined itself in her presently tidy hair. Hermione’s brain cleared out and she suddenly became aware of all that was happening. Her eyes flew open to find Michael’s shut tight before her, in passion. A small wetness was beginning to spread between their connection. She knew this was not right; she was disappointed and beginning to hate it. This was different from her first kiss with Viktor. This was more virile but strangely empty. This was not right…

But there was some power that held her back from pushing away. The first time is never perfect. Michael had been wonderful for all this time; she had enjoyed their brief interaction. In fact a moment ago, she was very certainly infatuated by him. She could give him another chance- she could give them another chance. She’d ensure that he wasn’t smoking the next time. Perhaps her social life was so outdated because of her career and the war that she had forgotten that a goodnight kiss was quite harmless on a first date.

Hermione had long lost her breath and couldn’t retrieve it. She felt as hard and cold as an idol. Her body stiffened instead of giving away or melting into Michael’s as it should. She began to count house-elves in her head…

What would Ron say if he saw her kissing like this?

Would he feel the same hate she had felt when she had seen him with Lavender, or more recently- Esmè?

Would he never speak to her again?

Would he go back to Esmè?

Had she lost her chance with him forever? Would he ever come back to her- as a friend if nothing more or nothing less?

Hermione was soon about to get all the answers of her questions, in one moment.

The dandelion hedge tore apart to reveal a dark, furious and lanky figure plunging forwards towards Michael’s back. Hermione tried to protest between the kiss, to warn Michael of the impending danger that was approaching, but he only kissed her back more fiercely… not willing to let go.

“OI YOU BASTARD!! GEROFF HER!”

The knotted couple broke apart finally when a resounding blow was delivered behind Michael’s head, slamming his mouth and nose against the brass handle on Hermione’s door. Without any choice for cover, Hermione fell out of balance onto the door mat while Michael toppled over her and did a full somersault in the process.

“OH MY GOD!” she shrieked.

As she cleared her disheveled hair out of her eyes, her chin squashed against the dusty doorstep, she saw the fuming figure before her and recognized the unlaced hand-me-down shoes as-

Ron Weasley’s.

“YOU MISERABLE SNEAKING CENTIPEDE!” she bellowed as she untangled her body from Michael’s semi-conscious form above her.

The figure yelled back, its face and hair was ablaze and red, beginning to reflect in the dim light above the door “OH FORGIVE MY intrusion, MISS PRISSY! If it hadn’t been for me right now, you would have been…”

“SO YOU JUST STAND THERE PRETENDING TO BE ALL SIR GALAHAD RESCUING A DAMSEL FROM RAPE AND HARASSMENT I SUPPOSE!!” Hermione screamed and shook Ron by his collar very hard.

Ron spat at her face, “UNLESS OF COURSE YOU WANTED IT! YOU SICK LITTLE…”

Hermione drew back, went very rigid and cold. She was quite a frightening vision, no better than Mrs. Weasley in an uncontrollable fit of rage.

“Don’t. you. dare”

There was a moment’s interlude when Michael’s figure raised itself a little with a groan. As though he couldn’t believe it, his hands moved shuddering towards the threads of blood hanging down from his smashed jaw.

“Weedly? Wod are you doing here?” he spluttered, looking up and turning pasty white.

Hermione quickly bent down, and heaved him up to a sitting position. Then she softly tapped Michael’s bloody lip and swollen gums with the tip of her wand, murmuring a spell under her breath.

In a moment, the long skeins of scarlet down Michael’s chin; the splashes of wine red blood on his collar and the salty taste in his mouth vanished completely.

And then he ominously lifted his wand towards Ron, over Hermione’s shoulder and sent a curse towards him with an expert flick, while his target projectiled to a distance of a mile.

“CONFRINGO!”

Ron got up quickly after his head hit the muggle street lamp and stood panting bathed under the ghostly light, his wand held aloft.

“DENSAUGEO!” was yelled back at Michael with equal vehemence.

As before quite by accident, the spell instead of hitting right on spot, shot into Hermione’s face where she stood protectively before Michael. The scene went back to Snape’s dungeon where fourteen year old Hermione was whimpering and trying her best to shield her front teeth that began to grow at a surprising pace. For a moment, the whole party froze in action and watched Hermione scream in frustration as her wand clattered to the ground, in her attempt to cover her chin. Her front teeth had already gone ahead.

“Hermione, are you alright!?” Michael bent into her face, anxious at how she had been injured.

“MY TEEF! DO FUMFIN ABOU’ MY TEEF!”

“LEAVE IT ALONE CATRWRIGHT! YOU GET AWAY FROM HER!” Ron advanced quickly, raising his wand up to Michael’s chin level. He softly pushed Hermione’s hands away from her mouth and examined the three foot long incisors.

“It’ll be all right, Hermione. I’m sorry it hit you… I know the counter-spell…”

“GEF AWAY FROM ME! GIVE ME BACK MY WANF, YOU F-F-FREAK!” Hermione slapping away Ron, for lack of a better insult.

Terrified out of his wits at the deranged version of Hermione Granger sitting before him, he quickly retrieved the wand and put it in her palm. Michael watched anxiously as the teeth were gradually restored to their original length.

There was a flash of lightning in the air and a loud clap of thunder a moment later. Cavernous clouds flooded the sky and the moonlit night suddenly turned as dark as Hermione’s expression.

Hermione stood up before the two kneeling figures before her. Towering over them, she screamed pitifully, “I don’t care HOW… OR WHEN… you decide to settle this between yourselves, but I would request the both of you TO CLEAR OUT OF MY SIGHT RIGHT NOW!”

And then her front door slammed shut.

***

The night grew worse and louder than anybody could have imagined. Trees rustled and shivered with the combined ferocity of the wind and the cold raindrops. Streets lay empty, without even the homeless and lost cowering under tables or at jetties. Street lamps flickered and occasionally a drenched and solitary dog would trot along wagging his tail pointlessly. The entire evening’s humidity had accumulated and now thick heavy sheets of rain fell before the window pane. It was a complete contrast to the brightly crackling fire inside the room, illuminating three figures, two of identical height and the third a little shorter. They sat on comfortable sofas around an official looking table, on which was laid a large brown parcel.

“There’s no doubt about it, Harry. This is the best we could come up with”, Fred whispered excitedly.

Harry picked up the brown package and unwrapped the paper around it to find a rectangular box that was sealed with enchantments.

“Erm, let me help you with that” George said, grabbing the parcel with a mad glint in his eyes. He tapped the box with his wand twice with a moment’s interval. The lid raised itself and revealed the dark, folded contents within.

“Pure genius”, Fred whispered, looking immensely satisfied with himself.

“You have to promise me not to try and sell something similar for your profits”, Harry said quietly surveying what he held in his hands, “this is something just between us”

But the twins looked slightly uncomfortable at this proclamation. “But we thought at least the Order could use something like this. I mean, it’s the easiest way to get about and do some good quality spying and infiltration”, Fred explained.

“Absolutely not! Let me see… ah! As the Chosen One, I should be armed with some weapons that nobody else possesses, don’t you think?” Harry retorted.

But George was not convinced. “Listen mate, we’re pretty sure you’re not using these to hunt for the horcruxes. Then what exactly do you want with it?”

“Just a change of plans. I’m done busting my brains over the bloody horcruxes. This time, I need some direct access. I need some actual information, if you know what I mean. So I’m just tracing my steps back to where they started…”

And with that enigmatic declaration, Harry got up smiling at the twins’ baffled expressions, collected his parcel and walked out of the door of the Weasley Wizard Wheezes into the rainy, stormy, windy and merciless night with a new and strange feeling in his heart.

***

Hermione’s temper cooled down with the hot salty tears that flowed down her cheek, carving furrows in the slight and perfect make up she had applied for the night. There was turmoil of emotions raging inside her body and her brain was buzzing with fatigue. With her back still pressed to her front door, she sank to the floor and sobbed quite pitilessly.

“Well Ginny, I hope you’re happy now! The plan was a huge and tremendous success!” she hiccoughed vindictively at the room before her.

The room soon grew dark and veins of lightning flashed outside her window, causing her fancy china to vibrate with the resounding thunder. Automatically, she got up, floated to the windows and slammed them down, shut out the sound with a spell, and pointed her wand at the grate lighting up a merry fire. Then she returned to her position by the door and sank to the floor once more. Without any emotion, she gradually unclasped her earrings and brooch from her being. She loosened her tidy bun and let the usual bushy brown hair cascade to her shoulders. She felt all the heat trapped inside her hair escape, and a sudden coolness descended on her head. But the tears did not stop flowing.

How dare he? How could he be so presumptuous as to follow her all across town to see what she made of her date? He had no business to! Absolutely no business…

She hated him for being so wicked. She hated every fibre in his body for being so completely etched in hers. She couldn’t stand the thought of ever meeting him and talking to him straightforward. A part of her wanted to hit him across his face for being so clumsy. Her teeth had grown longer than the last time, and she was certain of how ridiculous she had looked… and that too in front of Michael. She knew he would never be able to look at her after that, she was so terribly embarrassed and shocked at the blow he had received from Ron.

Ron.

She could kill him if he came before her. She had had enough of him. He was an obnoxious, blundering idiot.

In fact, she was so absorbed in thoughts of him that she could have sworn that the unsteady breathing sounds she heard opposite the door she sat, were his.

She had heard the sound, pace and rhythm of his breath so many times that she could distinguish it even in complete pandemonium. It was heavier and slower than most other people. If one paid attention for too long, one would be lost in the calm humming sound of his breath and heart beat moving pace-to-pace. She had heard it so many times unconsciously when they had been studying in the Gryffindor common room, that was either empty during the vacations or suddenly hushed up before exams. Sitting on the same table in complete quiet, with her notes spread out, she would tune her mind’s rhythm to that of Ron’s breath and heartbeat adjacent to her seat. It had been so long ago…

Hermione suddenly sat upright. It was distinct now, heavy ragged breathing right outside her door. A little higher than where she sat, so she presumed that the human or creature was standing. She grew quite frightened despite herself, because she couldn’t imagine who or what would be outside her door on a viciously stormy night.

In case it was an assailant or a spy, she would surprise him. It was pointless to ask who it was, and put the person on guard.

Her hands pressed firmly on the door knob; her wand rose in attention and she quickly turned the door open.

SPLAT!

Lying before her, spread eagled was the tall, wet and muddy person of Ron Weasley. He looked positively aghast to be lying on his back like that on Hermione’s carpet, his red hair pasted onto his forehead from the rain, with her wand pointing right at his nose. He had been leaning against her door all this time.

“RONALD WEASLEY!?” Hermione yelled once more, not willing to believe that it really was him, “have you completely lost your mind? What on earth were you doing outside my door for three hours in this weather? You want to get KILLED?!”

Ron calmly and with great restrain pushed himself up into a sitting position, and then heaved his drowned self into a presentable figure, standing before her. He was whiter than a sheet, his eyes flashing a dull grayish blue in the firelight contrasted with the hair that dripped onto his nose and neck. He stood there speechless and quite expressionless before her, while she started at him, absolutely flabbergasted.

“It’s cold”, he said, finally in a small voice, to break the silence.

This was the last justification that Hermione had expected. Putting her hands on her hips, she stared at Ron’s sorry figure and took long deep breaths, before she said, with a great stress on each word-

“I-want-you-to-leave-my-house. NOW!”

“I-I’d like some of that coffee, you were about to make”, Ron whimpered, fumbling over his soaked shirt that pressed onto the goose-pimples on his arms and stomach. Hermione gaped at him for a longer period at this request, and then she just went over to her couch by the fire, and sat there without a word, looking away from the doorway, where he stood.

For a span of ten minutes, Ron stood exactly where he was in exactly the same state. Then boldly, he removed his shoes and wet socks, wrung the dripping water out of his shirt and pants, and walked barefoot across the carpet to her. He pushed the hair out of his face and shoved them behind his ears; he could see her better now. The fire had burned low and there just a slight orange glow in the room. But he could see the flames flashing still in Hermione’s eyes while she sat above him, her gaze averted.

“Uh… you’re teeth look better now”, Ron began a little sheepishly.

Hermione let out a loud breath but continued to look away and observe silence.

“I-I’m s-s-orry, I’m really sorry Herm. I won’t do it again. I’ll keep away from you forever if you w-want it that way”

With this solemn declaration, he softly lifted himself up to his knees and closed into her face to see if she had reacted. She looked very conscious of his presence even though her eyes were watching the fire. Her breath had quickened, and taking advantage of the signals, he softly placed his cold, damp hand onto her small warm open palm, lying carelessly on her skirt. Even at this slight touch, he could clearly feel the rapid and frenzied pulse in her soft pink palm. Very slowly she turned to face him.

“Is that a new tool for emotional blackmail, Ron Weasley?” she asked icily.

Ron looked genuinely confused, “As in…?”

“You’ve never called me that before- ‘Herm”, she explained quietly.

Ron looked positively relieved, because he knew what to say to that-

“Well, that’s the only option seeing how Grawp took “Hermy” away for himself” he said with a tentative grin.

This forced Hermione to break into the smallest smile she could manage, while still pretending to be mad at him.

“What happened to Michael?” she asked suddenly.

Ron looked highly disconcerted and stuttered, “Oh he-he-he just… left!”

“Left?”

“Yeah yeah, at first we gave each other some manly glares and then when it started to rain, he just… left” Ron continued trying to inject some confidence into his voice to make it sound believable. Hermione looked at him amusedly for a moment, and then fell back into her couch rubbing her eyes.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you killed him and dumped his body in a ditch”, she said sarcastically.

Ron pressed his hand more assuredly onto hers and said softly, his grin returning, “I wouldn’t be surprised either”

For a quarter of an hour they looked at each other in the silence with their eyes doing the talking. Most of the rain had dried off Ron’s body and now there was the dim smell of his moist, unwashed body that floated into Hermione’s knowledge. It reminded her of the smell she enjoyed most of the quenched earth after the first April showers when she was a child. It resembled the smell of freshly mowed lawns a little. While she sat contemplating the mystery of Ron’s scent, and how she never wanted it to go away, she had barely noticed that they were playing with each other’s fingers. This was the first time she had been completely alone with him for so long, unsupervised. She suddenly felt very grown-up.

“You’re still wearing the chain I gave you…” Ron whispered, observing the glint of the sapphire at her bosom.

“Oh yeah, I really really loved it” she whispered back, uncertainly. He lifted himself from his knees and crept closer to touch the necklace. Hermione didn’t have the strength or will to push him away. He rubbed the gem on the chain while his fingers occasionally caressed the exposed skin of her collar bone, visible through the V shaped blouse. A small shiver passed through her body unconsciously. She felt the same shiver run through Ron, starting from his fingertips. Suddenly coming to her sense, she slapped his hand away playfully. And then posed a more serious question-

“Ron, why can’t things be alright? Why can’t they… well… work out?”

Ron looked dreamily at her. The guilt had vanished completely from his face. He grabbed her fingers once more and pressed his lips to them.

“I really don’t know, Herm. Everything seems alright in my dreams. But when I wake up, I’m forced back to this place. To where we both are right now… whenever I wake up…”

HPNS- Chapter 15

THE BATTLE OF WITS

Read Chapter 14 here or start at the beginning

Hermione couldn’t hide her smile, or the two bright spots that had appeared on her cheek. She didn’t have to turn around to look at Ron’s face; she knew exactly what it looked like right now. Michael drew her chair and took her coat, smiling in the most gentlemanly fashion. He bent to get her comfortable in her seat and she smelt the ‘Michael’ scent for the first time… it felt good, in fact much better than good. The party was arranged thus- Ginny and Hermione on one side with their respective dates facing each other. It had been her special request to Ginny for such a pattern as she wasn’t quite alright with being right next to her ‘blind date’ as yet.

As the foursome sat down to dinner Ginny began a polite conversation on the topic of the war and how it was costing the Ministry’s Treasury. The war always made a great topic in such situations. Although she nodded and spoke the right things at the right time, her eyes were glancing sneakily at the figure opposite her whenever they could… every little angle of his face, every little thing he did.

Tall, but definitely not taller than Ron, shoulders were slightly broader and thickset and posture erect. Michael had thick, wavy dark hair neatly arranged around his face. His eyes were grey and the most classic feature of his face was an aquiline nose that suited him quite well. Not at all like Ron’s unnaturally long nose and ridiculous ears that turned red as though they had a mind of their own… not at all like Ron…

Ginny made a low guttural sound to distract Hermione from her reverie. It worked.

“Ginny told me that you went to Hogwarts as well. It’s just I don’t remember ever having seen you…” she resumed the pleasantries.

Michael took a sip of wine before helping her on “I belonged to Ravenclaw and I believe I’ve seen you before when you were being sorted. I faintly heard about you a couple of times mostly in relation to Harry Potter. Lately of course, I admired your article in the prophet as regards The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare”

Hermione blushed and her ears stood up appreciatively. He knew what SPEW stood for and that was a great compliment. Even Percy, or Fred and George weren’t quite sure of it, not to mention her own parents.

“Would you like some more wine, Michael?” she asked attentively, marveling at how well she was doing for a date.

As she leaned over to pour the Elfish wine, Michael suddenly asked, “Weren’t you and Harry Potter involved with each other at Hogwarts?”

Neither men could have predicted the reaction of their dates. Ginny’s fork dropped with a loud, rude clatter and Hermione jumped on her seat spilling most of the wine on Michael’s crisply starched white shirt and beige trousers.

“I’m so sorry Michael that was very clumsy of me” Hermione apologized profusely and looked crestfallen for having ruined the spotless image of her date.

“It’s not a problem at all” he replied, his eyes filling with forgiving, good-natured warmth.

He siphoned off the liquid and stains with his wand, leaving his shirt as clean and white as before. Hermione made it a mental point to ask him the spell for removing wine stains, as she had not been quite as successful on the birthday robes Esmè had given her.

“Well you know very little about me, mostly from gossip I’d imagine. Harry and I are just close friends” she didn’t want to get into intricate details about her long association with Harry, not in these times.

The conversation continued as smooth as the butter that flowed on Sangria’s signature steak that was brought in for them.

Michael’s manicured fingers moved flawlessly while slicing the steak and Hermione admired the deftness of those fine hard hands in back and forth motion over the piece of flesh. He looked above his food and smiled at her every so often, and she was happy that she could give him a good time, that she was able to attract a man as much as he attracted her.

This was what she had wanted for a long time. To be compatible and understood, not revered like Viktor used to and certainly not taken for granted like Ron. Hermione’s feeling heightened when Michael went on about SPEW with her as though he were an equal partner on the campaign with genuine feeling of support and passion.

Hermione didn’t care that Josh and Ginny looked bored at the proceedings and had begun to tickle each other under the table.

Despite himself Harry couldn’t help staring over at the table where the foursome sat. He thought Ginny looked alarmingly beautiful. And that guy opposite her had to be the man she was seeing… John Barter or Puddington, something like that.

Harry’s fingers caressed his wand longingly holding back the suitable hexes rising in his mind that would be great on this guy. He hated the fact that Ginny had dressed up to look this good before him, he hated them being together and having fun, he shuddered at the sight of their hands joined at the table. But resigned to his fate all that Harry could do was prod forcefully at his dinner with his fork pretending it was Josh’s head.

However he knew that he was taking it a lot better than Ron who sat opposite him. Ron’s fists were blotched red after he had been flexing them angrily under the table, and his expensive dinner lay completely forgotten

“Just look at the bloke he looks like his mother dressed him up! And I can smell his cologne all the way over here, it’s making me SICK!” Ron whispered furiously at Harry as though he felt the same way.

Harry stared at Ron who had completely forgotten his previous mention about being Secret Keeper. Not that Harry hadn’t thought about it before, but he had made up his mind not to put him thorough the burden. He owed so much to the Weasley’s and killing Ron would never help solve anything. Ginny didn’t deserve to lose another brother and neither did Hermione, who would have to split her loyalties between him and Ron. He could never ask that of her. Harry refused to single-handedly drag all the people he loved into the same cesspool of destruction that he was destined for. He loved them more than he hated Voldemort.

Harry was not looking at their table or at Ron. Neither was he looking the least bit disturbed as Ron. Harry’s eyes were staring far off in the distance at something undefined… he looked broken… consumed in thoughts that Ginny didn’t want to imagine. All the way from her chair she could see the smoldering look in his eyes, and then she felt very foolish.

She had thought Harry would be jealous. But he was far from it.

And upon realizing this she fully appreciated what Harry was going through and how much she was putting him through, that the mission was serious, consuming and dangerous. That he wasn’t just doing it to avenge his parents but to protect them. She understood how much the whole wizarding world was expecting of him… he was the Chosen One.

But she loved him despite all this.

The same pain shot up inside her and Ginny had to struggle for a moment to fight back hot, aggressive tears. How could she expect something as normal and mundane as jealousy from Harry who respected and trusted her so much?

Memories came flooding into her brain… Tom Riddle… Sirius vanishing into the veil… Dumbledore’s body lying on the grass… Charlie… and Harry had seen so much more… gone through so much more, and here she was on a date with Josh in the same restaurant where Harry sat, with the hope of making him jealous.

If Harry died fighting Voldemort… it would be her fault for making his life so complicated and miserable…

“Ginny?” she heard Hermione ask.

She regained her composure and the moisture in her eyes was blinked away. Harry was actually looking over at her now and then she realized that she had been staring in his direction for all that time.

“That’s Ron over there! At that table! Look Hermione, isn’t that H-Harry and Ron?” she asked according to the plan.

Hermione looked adequately surprised, excused herself, got up and went over to the table where Harry and Ron sat, taking them by shock… according to the plan.

Moments later they were shamelessly seated at the same table as Josh-Ginny-Hermione and Michael.

Ginny consciously looked away from Harry but introduced them thus, “Josh, you’ve already met Ron and this is Harry Potter. Michael, this is my brother Ron who’s in the Auror department with Josh… and erm, this is Harry”

Michael and Hermione beamed at Harry as though he were an angel. Ron did not return Michael’s offer for a handshake. Josh looked severely uncomfortable, reminded of the confrontation between him and Ginny’s ‘elder brother’ in the cubicle before.

“Very pleased to finally meet you, Mr. Potter. I’ve only watched you defeating Rawenclaw several times before at Hogwarts matches, and of course the incomparable performance at the Triwizard Tournament. Quite an unforgettable experience for the people who watched!” Michael said enthusiastically.

Harry looked taken aback, but smiled weakly. “Erm thanks. Unless I’m mistaken, you were the Rawenclaw prefect in my first year. I’ve seen Percy Weasley speaking with you”

It was Ginny’s turn to be surprised, “Were you really? Percy never mentioned that he knew you!”

“He would probably avoid mentioning me if he could help it, Ginevra. You see, he took my girlfriend Penelope Clearwater from me in our sixth year” Michael declared with a laugh.

Hermione and Ginny let out exclamations and then laughed, not knowing whether to believe this declaration.

“So Ronald, you’re in Josh’s department” Michael addressed Ron jovially, “I always imagined that Aurorship would be a rather adventurous career and I wouldn’t be up to it, I’ve always been for a more stable occupation”

Ron looked at him acerbically as Ginny sniggered and mouthed “Ronald” in a rather exaggerated undertone.

“Well you made the right choice mate” Ron retorted, “A job like mine would have completely ruined your suit and your mommy wouldn’t have liked that now, would she?”

There was a pause as everyone stared at him, but Ron didn’t care. Hermione’s face had turned an angry shade of red and Ginny and Harry were looking at him incredulously… Josh continued to observe his refection on the back of the spoon.

Michael’s grey eyes flashed ominously. There was a secret desire in Hermione that he would just stand up and throw a punch at Ron’s puffed face.

“Yes, she certainly wouldn’t have appreciated it, even if yours did Ronald. Mrs. Weasley must be terribly courageous!” Michael replied, “after all, my mother would not have accepted it if her son was lampooned by Rita Skeeter and the allegations turned out to be true after all!”

Ron smirked back and watched Hermione settle back her arm into Michael’s with a triumphant expression.

“It’s amazing how large one’s head looks on the back of a spoon, isn’t it Josh” Ron laughed vindictively.

Ginny was on the verge of sinking her nails into Ron’s head when Harry stomped in and said, “Hermione did you know, Tonks and Lupin are getting married next month?”

“Yes I talked to Dora the other day when I was at the Ministry for my permission for SPEW. She showed me the engagement ring and said they would have a small ceremony. We’re all invited of course.” Hermione replied all too quickly.

She was conscious of her sweaty palms from watching Ronald Weasley sitting in sharp relief against her date- Michael Cartwright. It was almost as if fate was asking her to make her choices at the moment and end the struggle.

“Are you talking about Nymphadora Tonks? I never knew she was seeing someone, she’s always so busy at work and joking around” Josh ventured. Harry recalled that Tonks was also an Auror and Josh probably knew her as his senior in the department.

Michael cut in, “Lupin? Hermione dear, this can’t possibly be Professor Lupin who taught us Dark Arts for a year? Is it the same gentleman?”

Harry noticed Hermione turn brighter than magenta at the term of endearment that Michael just used for her. Ron took a solid gulp of air into his lungs and flexed his forearms powerfully.

Ginny hastily replied to cover the confusion, “Yes the very same, Michael. He was my favorite Defense against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts”

Michael looked puzzled to a large degree by the information. His dark eyebrows were arched in thought like the drawn wings of a large phoenix. “He was undoubtedly good, but he was a werewolf; I mean I’m quite certain. That’s why Dumbledore dismissed him, didn’t he? I wonder how someone can agree to marry him…”

“No no you’re mistaken about his character Michael…” Hermione tried to explain before Ron cut her through icily-

“I agree Mike, some women can be dismal when it comes to love” he declared staring pointedly.

All the blood seemed to have rushed from Ron’s face and collected at his ears. Hermione jumped at this declaration and looked at him with a strange indefinable expression… not anger or indignation. She seemed to have forgotten all about Michael for that moment… it was as if none were at the table except the both of them. Ron replayed his retort in his mind once more and saw the implication more heavily than he had planned it. He suddenly jumped in his seat, spilling meat at Josh’s clothes and vanished out from the spotless glass revolving doors.

The battle was lost… no prisoners taken.

Read Chapter 16- FIRE AND WATER here

HPNS- Chapter 12

Read Chapter 11 here or start at the beginning


DEAD END

The night was dark and billowed like a Death Eater’s cloak. The greenish haze grew deeper and there was heaviness in the air as though a dust storm or cyclone would soon brew up. Trees rustled and branches creaked before a large house that belonged to a very rich and powerful man. A monstrous and large smoky shape loomed over the rooftop, brightening the moonless sky. A giant skull with the large serpent sliding out of the jaw… coiling with fearful intensity around a little girl’s heart that was beating for the family she could no longer have… Aurors fought on below the staircase and there was pandemonium.

Ron coughed up hot foamy blood and spat on the hard wooden floor, recovering from the curse that had hit him. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve he focused his blurred vision of Sam Whittaker wrestling a hooded figure, their wands flashing like swords. An anguished scream from the upper compartments shook him from his senses and he sprang to his feet to follow the direction of the shriek.

“Geroff me!” Sam yelled, blowing the Death Eater off from his body with a curse.

Helping Sam onto his feet Ron whispered hoarsely “Where’s the kid? That was her screaming!”

Sam’s light brown hair was disheveled and his nose bleeding, “Ron, it came from there”, he said pointing to a room on the left of the lofty staircase, “Go after her! I’ll tackle this tough nut!”

As he ran towards the source of the scream, Ron leapt over the mangled body of a woman at the head of the staircase. He banged open the door to the room.

Standing before him was a Death Eater holding a young girl by her blonde hair, his wand pointing at her throat. As her eyes took notice of Ron entering the room with his wand held out, she began to moan pitifully.

“She means nothing to you. Hand her over now” Ron said in a deliberately calm voice.

The Death Eater stuck out his tongue and licked the skin on the child’s neck dangerously, “Have it your way then”, he whispered maliciously before raising his wand and levitating the girl so that she hung upside down, her head lolling from one side to the other helplessly.

Clearing his mind, Ron thought ‘Stupefy’. He succeeded in surprising the Death Eater who fell backwards onto the floor. Running towards the girl, he lifted her unconscious form into his hands and headed down the stairs where fresh noise could be heard.

“What’s the hurry sweetie-pie?” an unctuous voice interrupted Ron’s progress. Hoisting the girl onto his shoulder with his wand ready, he turned around to look into the face of the Death Eater unmasked. He had her seen before…

A small grey owl tittered away at the misty window pane of Hermione Granger’s apartment, oblivious to the jeopardy its owner was in. The slight noise disturbed the sleeping inmates of the room.

“Hermione, wake up! Hermione!” Esme’s anxious voice awoke Hermione from the deepest, most rewarding sleep.

“Mmm wats happ’nd?” she mumbled.

Suddenly Hermione jolted awake and reached out for her wand from inside the pillow case. Sitting up erect, she turned on the bed lamp and saw Esme kneeling in her cot adjacent to Hermione’s, looking stunning in a black, revealing nightdress.

“Something’s knocking on the window pane”, she stammered looking frightened.

Hermione kicked off the covers and ran to the window where Pigwidgeon was suspended with parchment rolled in its beak. Charming her window pane to lift up she allowed the owl to zoom around the room before it stopped in front of her, and waited to be relieved. It was a short note in a frantic handwriting.

Hermione,

Ron and Sam were on a project and have been injured severely and that’s why he couldn’t make it to your place for the party. I’m with him at St. Mungo’s.

Ginny W.

PS- Esmeralda from Mexico.

“Esmeralda from Mexico? What do I have to do with this? And who’s Ron and Sam? What is all this?” Esme asked in quick succession after reading the note over her cousin’s shoulder.

Hermione felt as though she had lost her voice.

In a normal circumstance she would have quickly abandoned everything and rushed to Ron and Ginny, but tonight she felt inhibited… scared.

The letter trembled in her hands and the corners of her eyes pricked. She knew exactly what Ginny meant by ‘project’. The Ministry usually sent Trainee Aurors to the most dangerous rescue-missions as the loss of a trainee meant little to them. She knew how easily Ron would have slipped into a fatal mission if he was going to be paid a raving bonus once more. She could never understand was how he could be so callous.

“Hermione?” Esme asked uncertainly, looking at her white face, “can I help in any way?”

Without a word Hermione put on a cloak, brushed her hair and turned determinedly to face Esme.

“I-I need to go to the hospital. One of my best friends is injured. Don’t get scared and make sure you ask for me before you open the door at morning. Remember we talked about the Ministry procedure?”

“There won’t be any need for that I’m coming with you” Esme retorted quickly slipping a jacket and trouser over her sultry nightdress, “the letter says that they want me there”.

“No Esme it’s just a password to confirm that this letter really is from Ginny. We decided that our next security question would be about you, since no Death Eater knows you. You need to stay here!”

“We are getting late. Your friend Ron won’t thank you for it”, Esme said, moving uncharacteristically fast down the stairs.

***

“Harry yeh should’n go abou’ hidin’ like tha!” Hagrid huskily scolded Harry while he readied some tea, “Yeh could’ve gotten hurt if Grawpy hadn’ found yeh!”

“Hagrid, I need to get out of here. I need to stay hidden and I can’t be found sitting here in your hut!” Harry retorted angrily, trying to fight off Fang who continued to lick him all over.

Arriving at the table with a pot of tea Hagrid undid his flowery apron and lifted Fang off from him. He then stared at Harry with his beetle-black eyes boring into Harry’s face and examined him up and down. Despite his annoyance he felt uncomfortable here under Hagrid’s vigilance. It brought back memories that were happy… Hogwarts… lessons… lazing in the afternoons with Ron and Hermione…

“Yeh’ll be jess like James then. After You-Know-Who started after them, all he could talk abou’ was hidin’ you n Lily” Hagrid said, his voice drenched with emotion, “Hidin-hidin-hidin’ was all it was abou’. But it did em’ no good see? Harry you gotta stay with yer friends, with us. Yeh’ll be a lot safer than tha’ cave where Grawp found yeh”

Grawp was sitting on three of Hagrid’s chairs holding a raw dragon steak over his bleeding skull. “Hagger! Grawp- find-Harry!” he grunted with pride.

Hagrid beamed at him and mumbled some sweet encouragement while Harry glowered into the fire. All this interruption brought him back to square one. Hagrid was the largest obstruction of all, by physical size and emotional blackmail. He couldn’t explain to himthat his parents had friends who weren’t in as much danger as his friends were. Yes, he could learn from his parent’s mistakes but then even Voldemort was more prepared this time… more formidable. Meanwhile, the Chosen One had struck a dead end.

Suddenly Harry began to concentrate hard… he had to give it a try even if he had no hopes of succeeding. After a whole minute of sitting in the couch, his brow wrinkled with concentration, nothing happened.

“Don’ think I don’ kno yeh can apparate” Hagrid chuckled watching Harry, “Yeh can’t do it in Hogwarts grounds anymore than Fang can. You gotta stay here Harry yeh’ll be safe fer tonight. Then we can let the Order kno that yeh’ve bin found.”

***

Ginny didn’t like hospitals at all. It reminded her of things she didn’t want to think about. Like the time when she was five, the ghoul that lived in their attic had lifted her by her ankles and thrown her down the stairs… or when in her fourth year, her dad had been attacked by the snake… more recently, when Charlie’s body had been brought to Mungo’s for examination…

She sat quietly drumming her fingers on her lap. It hadn’t been a surprise when Josh had sent her a warning that Ron and Sam Whittaker had been taken to St. Mungo’s after being found on a mission by reinforcements.

Ginny wondered that the rate at which Ron’s hospital visits were increasing, there wouldn’t be much spirit left in her brother by the end of the war. Her sullen thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of two figures in the corridor sprinting towards her.

“What happened? Are you okay?” she was surprised that the interrogation came from the strange cousin and not from Hermione. Even though she was looking into Ginny’s face, Hermione’s expression was one of withdrawal. Ginny thought she looked like she had been revived from a faint, her pallid profile and trembling white lips… she looked a nervous wreck.

Walking up to her instead of Esme, Ginny clutched Hermione’s shoulders and spoke firmly, “I didn’t ask you to come here. Everything’s fine. Ron’s fine.”

As though to corroborate her statement, the door to the ward in front of them flew open and Ron walked out, drenched in crimson stains, his face whiter than a ghost.

***

Harry Potter strolled across the Hogwarts grounds in his Invisibility Cloak and felt the cold night breeze rustle his hair. There was the hint of a storm, a violent one that evoked the passions of the earth below before it could break out. The smell of the damp, rain-expectant soil filled his nostrils and he floated along as an unseen spectre in the lawns.

Looking up at the castle he saw the hundred little windows glowing like a many- eyed creature, one that would please Hagrid. Counting the windows from the right, he found the window to his old dormitory in Gryffindor Tower and stared in the direction for a long time. Harry could visualize a flying hippogriff with two students seated upon it soaring towards Professor Flitwick’s office to free an escaped convict, who had been captured and locked up there… always locked up.

Sinking to his knees Harry felt hot tears gush down his cheeks of repent, sleep and frustration… and an empty feeling like he was an alien in a different land.

Hogwarts no longer felt like home.

It was desolate and sad… deprived of the usual activity and students… from Quidditch… from Dumbledore.

How could Hagrid think that Harry enjoyed running away, being far from his friends… from the only people he had… from Ginny.

The thought of Ginny brought a fresh pang of agony in his stomach and he let the tears flow incessantly. Harry longed to hold her in his arms, to feel her warmth, to lose himself in that flowery scent and to kiss her. He remembered how under the tree by the Lake, they had shared so many wonderful moments.

The animal in him seemed to be cowering in pain.

But he knew that if he kept his head straight until he had done what he had to do… he would be rewarded with all the happiness and peace of the world… he mustn’t give up trying. He just wished he didn’t have to be so alone… maybe this was his greatest weakness… as well as his strength… the need to be loved… to love someone… it was this power that made him stronger than Voldemort.

***

“Sam’s condition’s pretty critical” Ron said feverishly walking up to the three women standing in the moonlit corridor of the hospital, “he managed to knock out two Death Eaters but the last one got him. What I can’t understand is why the reinforcements didn’t come when we send the message that we were outnumbered”

“Do they know what Sam was hit with?” Ginny asked, forcing him into a bench outside the ward.

Ron looked down at his knees and shook his head quietly. His shirt was spattered with the blood of the little girl… he didn’t want to think about it. It made him retch.

“R-Ron?” a familiar voice quivered bending on her knees before him. He looked up into the face he wanted to see… she looked insane with anxiety… with passion… he wanted to sweep her in an embrace and tell her that he was fine.

Ron couldn’t believe that he could be thinking of this when he had blundered up the whole mission so badly. His reflexes had been out of practice and he hadn’t used his head like he should have… he could have saved them all. And now he wished he wasn’t a Trainee Auror at all.

“It was the McFadden’s, you know Kevin McFadden works in the Ministry under Scrimgour and by the time we reached the Dark Mark was already on the house” he explained in a low bitter voice, “they got his whole family. Must’ve targeted him because he made that decree on arresting Death Eaters without prior warning and trial. Only his daughter was left when we got there…” his voice trailed off as he found it too hard to continue.

Ron firmly shut his eyes, not wanting to explain how he hadn’t been able to save the little girl. The images flashed in his mind… the Death Eater- Alecto Carrow… she had cornered him. He had confronted her before at Hogwarts in their last year. Ron had tried to bring her down but she was more powerful. He had been lucky enough to remain conscious, else he wouldn’t have been able to bring Sam back… the girl however, had paid the heavy price…

Ron felt a warm grip on his shoulder and looked up into the face of a woman he didn’t recognize.

“I’m sorry Superman but you can’t expect yourself to do so much” she spoke in a voice that felt like nectar.

Ron stared at her despite himself. She looked like something from a far off tropical island that one could capture in a Flutterby-net and collect.

His gaze strayed to her half-shrouded bosom, somehow she seemed to be healing him… removing all thought of reality… he didn’t even know who she was.

“Ron this is my cousin Esme. She’s from Mexico and she’s non-magic” Hermione said briefly, “but are you hurt? Oh I knew something was wrong when you didn’t make it to the party”, she continued getting up and pacing.

Ron hardly heard her… her name was Esmeralda… she didn’t shy away from his gaze or flinch, but looked right back rather invitingly… strangely it soothed Ron at the moment. He didn’t want to discuss the mission or Sam… he was drowning in Esmeralda’s elusive eyes.

Read Chapter 13 - HAVOC AND HAVEN here

Weasley and Weasley (Deceased)- chapter 5!

Read Chapter 4!
"Fred?"

George stared wildly around the room. He dashed first into the bathroom, then into the kitchen, then back downstairs to double-check the shop.

"What the hell are you doing?" cried Lee as George came bursting through the door. "I can hear you thundering around upstairs like a heard of Hippogriffs!"

"Sorry," George panted, a sickening knot forming in his stomach as he noted that Fred wasn't in the shop either. "I've, er - lost something."

Lee did not looked contented. "Yeah, well, find it soon, will you? They're getting rowdy in here."

George nodded, then spun on one foot and Apparated back upstairs. In his haste, he had not really thought about where he was going, and had wound up in the bathroom instead. He paused, thinking hard, then slumped down to sit on the edge of the bath, holding his head in his hands.

'He had to go sometime,' a very unwelcome voice spoke up from the back of his head. 'It couldn't have lasted forever…'

He had been so pleased to have Fred back and he hadn't even properly realised it. He had kept telling himself that it wasn't real and that Fred didn't really belong here, just to make it easier for the time when Fred, eventually, had to leave. Had he ever really been here at all? He had not been as transparent as a ghost, that was sure, and he certainly hadn't been able to walk through walls. But he had never really looked fully alive, either. There had still been a bit of haziness to his outline, a bit of distance to his voice.

'But why leave now?' George found himself thinking. 'Why come here on Tuesday morning, stay for a couple of days and then disappear again? Fred hadn't known how he'd got here - or so he'd told me, he hadn't seemed too keen to discuss it - so who was the one sending him here and then pulling him back?'

For a daft moment, he thought it actually might have been himself. 'My dreams,' he thought. 'I started having dreams about him again and then he comes back. There has to be a link… But I didn't summon him, I'm pretty sure of that.'

He began thinking over the events of last Monday, running through his head everything that had happened after he had woken up from the dream about Fred stealing stuff from Zonko's again. He stared around the bathroom for inspiration. He had been in a bit of a hurry, so he hadn't washed properly. He had splashed water over his face, he had not looked in the mirror, he had - wait a minute…

His eyes lighted on something lying on the bathroom shelf. It was thin and gold and glittering, dotted with black beads and bits of glass. 'That was the day,' he thought with a sudden shock of realisation, 'that was the day someone sent that back to the shop. That was the day I put it on and didn't realise I was still wearing it until this morning. And Fred came back that night and was gone again after I'd had a shower today - after I'd taken it off again today!'

Without another moment's thought, he leapt up and grabbed the necklace from the shelf. It twinkled mysteriously at him in the morning light, as though hinting that it knew something that George didn't.

"It's worth a try," he muttered. "The worst that'll happen is I look a bit stupid."

He took in a deep breath, and slung the chain around his neck.

~***~

It was bizarre seeing King's Cross this quiet. Fred felt a vague sense of déjà vu as he stared blearily around the platform, watching the smoke overhead drift lazily above him. The train would surely be here any minute, and then he would be back where he belonged…

He slumped down onto the cast-iron bench which sat facing the railway line. The past few days spent with George were already beginning to feel like an odd dream, and he was having a hard time convincing himself that they had been real. It was probably better that way, he decided. Better not to dwell on dreams.

"Back again, so soon?" a familiar voice asked, and Fred became aware that someone was sat next to him. A man with white hair, and a beard which trailed almost to the floor, was peering at him over half-moon spectacles.

"I suppose so," Fred said vaguely. "Doesn't really feel like I ever left, to be honest."

Dumbledore gave him a small and knowing smile. "Time does seem to lose its significance on this side, I'm afraid." He moved his gaze slowly to observe the empty platform.

Fred hoped he wasn't going to say anything about how cruel it was that he and George had been split apart at such a young age. That was what the other one had said - the long-lost relative who had come to collect him the last time. Only, at that moment, confirmation that he was never going to see George again hadn't exactly been what he had wanted to hear.

He looked again at the railway line. "Train's taking a bit longer this time," he commented quietly.

The man next to him nodded. "I think that may be because it knows you aren't going to get on it."

"What?" Fred frowned, wondering if he had misheard what Dumbledore had said. "Not get on it? How else am I going to get back?"

Dumbledore turned to face him properly, and his expression was suddenly rather commanding. "Your friends are on the right track," he said seriously. "But I don't think they, or even you, realise the severity of what you have become involved in. Your brother will need your advice, your help. For your reappearance has a great deal to do with it all."

Fred snorted. "Right. Fat lot of good I am, I can't even leave the shop."

"You can't leave him," Dumbledore corrected. "Your reappearance is connected with your brother, and so to go too far, not from the shop, but from him, would cause you to… well…"

"Go a bit wobbly, yeah," Fred nodded. The man with the half-moon spectacles gave him a warm smile.

"I was going to say 'would cause the connection between you to loosen, and therefore your spectral presence to become weaker'. Although, I rather think your phrase does the trick quite as well." Dumbledore winked at him, and Fred suddenly felt his bewilderment begin to dissipate.

"I must admit," Dumbledore continued, "I never envisaged entrusting such an important task to Hogwarts' most infamous rule-breakers…" He gave Fred a rather shrewd look, and the latter grinned. "But then, I was never really one for the rules myself."

Fred studied the man's face for a moment. "You said my reappearance has something to do with it… What do you mean by that?"

Dumbledore smiled. "You're on the right track," he said. Then, "Good luck, Mr. Weasley."

His brilliant blue eyes twinkled and suddenly Fred felt faintly sick. A moment later, he could see nothing at all.

~***~

"Harry was right - he can't half be confusing sometimes…"

"Fred! Fred, you're back - er, what?"

Fred was gazing past his twin with a dazed look on his face. "Er, nothing… Um - what? What am I doing here, again? Was I asleep or something? I dreamt it, didn't I?"

"No, no - you weren't asleep, you were gone! Just vanished!" George explained hurriedly. "Look - I think I've figured it out -"

"Vanished?" Fred looked bemused. "I thought I was going back."

"Well, you might have been, but -"

"I was on the platform and everything, same as before…"

"Yes, you probably were going back to the other side, or wherever, but the point is -"

"It all felt like a dream, you know? And when I was talking to -"

"It's the necklace!" George shouted, with a triumphant air. "It's this necklace - it must be. This is the reason why you're here!"

He pointed vigorously at the chain around his neck. Fred, alarmed at this sudden outburst, stared at it dubiously. "That's the reason why I'm here?" he said, not bothering to disguise his disbelief. "Looks a bit tacky to me. Isn't it one of those charms that went wrong?"

George shook his head. "I thought so too," he said earnestly, "but it's not. I don't really know what it is, to be honest, but - someone sent it back to the shop on Monday with some other stuff. They sent it in this box all wrapped up and I thought they were just sending it back because it didn't work - remember the ones that turned black during testing?" Fred nodded, and George went on, "Well, I thought it was just one of those. So I put it on and nothing happened, and then - I don't know - I got distracted or something and I didn't realise I still had it on. I only noticed a few hours ago when I took a shower."

"You haven't showered for five days?"

"Shut up - that's not the point -"

"Certainly explains the smell…"

"Look -" George's eyes widened in frustration, "I'm trying to help explain why you're here." He took in a deep breath. "It's got something to do with this, I'm sure of it. When I took it off, you disappeared. And I've just picked it up again and now you're back. See - watch." He lifted the necklace from round his neck and tossed it onto the bed. Fred vanished.

For a moment, George was unsure as to whether he wanted his discovery to be true. That was twice now the timings of Fred's disappearances and reappearances had coincided with him putting on the necklace, which meant it really was him controlling when Fred came back. But how on earth did it work?

He stared at the necklace lying on Fred's bed. It was just a little, slightly garish, broken charm… wasn't it? Why would someone have sent it to him, wrapped-up in a return-to-sender package, if it had the power to bring back the dead?

He took in a deep breath. "I need Fred to think," he murmured, and snatched up the necklace from the bed. In another moment, it was around his neck again.

"Mother of Merlin!" Fred tottered over from the other side of the room, clutching at his stomach. "Don't do that again! I might be dead, but apparently that doesn't stop me feeling sick…" He sat down rather heavily on his bed.

George's face was plastered with a mixture of relief and delight. "That proves it," he said. "It's definitely this - that's twice now your reappearances have been linked to me wearing this thing." He tugged at the necklace.

"Right," said Fred slowly, giving the necklace a very suspicious look. "Well, that would make sense with what Dumbledore said, I suppose. About you having something to do with me being here."

All the relief drained from George's face, which twisted itself back into a frown. "What? Dumbledore - you spoke to Dumbledore?"

"Yeah," his twin nodded. "He was on the platform, while I was waiting to go back. He said something about - er - we're all on the right track, or something. Hard to remember now, actually. He wasn't exactly crystal clear about it. But if it's you wearing that necklace that's bringing me back, well, then that must be it. He said the further I go away from you, the weaker the connection, or something, and that you're going to need my advice."

He stared up at George and shrugged, as though that was a perfectly reasonable amount of explanation. George raised his eyebrows.

"So… I'm the one making you come back. I'm the reason you're here. And it's probably because of this necklace," he was saying the words slowly, almost to himself, as though confirming the thoughts in his head.

Fred nodded. "And, Dumbledore mentioned - well, I think he meant this - the case. Bandersnatch's murder."

George's expression changed instantly. He stared meaningfully at his twin. "The murder?" he asked. "Dumbledore talked about it?"

"Well, not in so many words, I suppose," said Fred, standing up again and removing his hand from his stomach. "He said 'your friends are on the right track', but that we don't know how serious it is. That the whole situation is a bit bigger than we realise."

"Wow." George's eyes widened. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"When am I ever not?"

"Dumbledore is involved, isn't he?" George breathed. "Otherwise, how else would he know the reason behind the murders?"

Fred frowned. "You think he knows who did it?" he asked, and the other nodded. "Well, if that's true - why didn't he just tell me?"

His twin shrugged. "He's Dumbledore, isn't he? That's not really his style. Besides, I was thinking something else as well: if you can go back and talk to Dumbledore, maybe you could find Bandersnatch and -" He stopped, seeing Fred shaking his head.

"No don't do, I'm afraid," Fred sighed. "It doesn't really work that way."

George looked slightly crestfallen at his words, but nodded all the same, and Fred suddenly felt rather deflated. He crossed to the other side of the room, then leaned against the wall opposite George, folding his arms and chewing on his lower lip again. The clock on the wall beside him ticked softly through the ensuing silence. George glanced at the time.

"Nearly half ten," he remarked absently. Then, "Merlin's beard, I left Lee on his own in the shop. I better get back down there. Um -" he looked over at Fred, who was raising an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, don't worry about me," Fred told him. "You go on. I've got plenty to think about up here…"

HPNS- Chapter 10

Read Chapter 9 here or start at the beginning


THE LULL AFTER THE STORM

Hermione felt herself going warm as she saw her mother arrive at the kitchen table with a bowl of her favorite cereal- ‘Sugar free Fruit loops’.

“Sweetie, are you sure this is all that you’re hungry for?” Mrs. Granger asked “you look as if you haven’t eaten properly for months”.

Quickly excusing herself for her lack of appetite, Hermione dug her spoon into her snack, “When will Dad be back from Mexico? I hope he’ll be back in time for my birthday” she said through a full mouth.

“Daddy will be here with Esme long before your big day” her mother replied, absent-mindedly running her pencil across the grocery list.

Drifting away into distant memories, Hermione recalled the cherishable times she had shared with her second-cousin Esmeralda De Sousa in their adolescence. She was Hermione’s age and something of an exotic creature, considered to be the most beautiful and eligible in the family. It had been ten years since they had seen each other and the last she had heard was that Esme had signed up for modeling. Although she was non- magic, her sister Ileana had already spent two years at Beauxbatons.

“I was reading the Daily Prophet the other day; the whole issue with Voldemort is quite ghastly isn’t it? I do hope you’re taking care of yourself, honey. Ron’s brother died only… when was it, three months ago?” Mrs. Granger patted her daughter’s back, voicing concern.

Hermione sighed deeply and said “Everything’s fine… we had a few Inferi attacks last week but that’s become more of the daily news now. Oh I’ve forgotten to tell you, the Ministry gave S.P.E.W permission to function and they’re leasing out some land for me to set it up. Pretty soon I’ll be able to start an actual campaign! I was planning on using the war as an excuse for House-elf liberation. I mean, if we could say that the house- elves might go over to Voldemort’s side like the giants if we don’t be fairer to them…”

Mrs. Granger listened dutifully to her ambitious, headstrong daughter babble on about her career. She had long gotten over her life-long dream of Hermione growing up to be a dentist, when nine years ago the letter from Hogwarts had arrived at their doorstep. She noticed how much more beautiful her little girl had become and felt a surge of pride flow through her veins. Hermione would turn nineteen in two month’s time, and Mrs. Granger wanted to give her the best birthday she could possibly make it… without magic of course.

At that moment when mother and daughter were occupied in pleasant memories and gossip… many miles away in a run-down apartment, Ronald Weasley waved the enchanted mirror in the air with frustration.

“HARRY POTTER, for the love of Merlin, will you ANSWER ME!” he bellowed at his own reflection in the mirror in his hand.

He waited in vain for something to appear… for someone. He continued to peer into the object while his breath steamed up the glass. The fiery blue gaze and freckled reflection did not metamorphose into the expected skinny face with green eyes. Five minutes later, Ron hurled the mirror onto his bed with a grunt of frustration.

He sat down roughly on the moth-eaten arm chair that occasionally cried abuses if sat on too hard. A clump of thick, straight red hair was clenched in both his fists as he moaned at the pain of solitude and ignorance.

“A Galleon’s wedged in your backside young ‘un!”, the armchair said in a wheezy furniture voice.

“Well you’re welcome to kiss my precious arse then!” Ron yelled savagely.

And then burst into a raucous peal of hopeless laughter. He regretted it though as the offended armchair toppled him onto the floor a second later, with the cushioning-fluff shredding itself angrily at him.

“That’s definitely the last time I accept Muriel’s old furniture…” he muttered darkly, rubbing his thighs from the unnecessary fall.

He suddenly jumped at the sound of a dull knocking at the window behind him. Turning around in his seat with wand drawn, he saw Hedwig tapping the frame with her small, sharp beak… a letter rolled up in her claws.

Ron tripped over some books that lay cluttered on the floor in his hurry to let Hedwig in. This was it, she was sure to have some news of where Harry was…

Hedwig flew in gracefully into the room, perched on the mantelpiece, groomed her feathers and stuck out her leg waiting for the letter to be removed.

Ron’s fingers fumbled as they made to relieve Hedwig while she looked around disapprovingly at the apartment that was messed up beyond repair.

“If you don’t clean up after your own crap, you’re not allowed to judge me!” Ron told her as he unfurled the parchment.

He ran his eyes down the long missive and then groaned. The minute, neat handwriting was easily reconisable as Hermione’s and not Harry’s, and then he remembered Harry having lent Hermione his owl for safe-keeping as he could no longer use her for communication.

Hedwig sailed over Ron’s lofty frame and tapped him on the head, evidently in wait for a reply or some Owl Treats. Having then received her share of the snack, she quietly preened her snowy white coat as Ron read Hermione’s letter on his armchair.

***

Rowena Ravenclaw was born as Rowena Biggerstaff into a poor home in Scotland. The precise date of her birth is however, unknown.

She was the youngest and brightest of her twelve siblings despite her father being a Squib. Her family was torn apart when she was five years old after her mother died of a common non- magic disease called Leukemia, which her incapable father couldn’t cure and afford to be taken care of by Muggle Healers. Despite having no formal education, Ravenclaw was an intelligent child who took a keen interest in reading books and texts of all magical significance. By the time she was thirteen, she escapedher estranged family and switched to a life of teaching orphans the tricks and different spells she invented. Finding companionship in these orphans with whom she lived in one of the Olde Streets of Scotland, she established an institution for their care and education when she was twenty. Soon after she met with her old father who asked her to shut the school for the orphans and return with her earned capital for the benefit of her family and for her eldest sister’s marriage. It was at time that she made new breakthroughs in spells involving memory modification. Evolving the simple spell which is widely used presently for the Obliviation of memories, she wiped her own father’s memory clean of ever having given birth to a thirteenth child.

At the age of thirty five she changed her name to ‘Rowena Ravenclaw’ taking the title of a great witch of the whose works she passionately admired. Handing over her school in Scotland to one of her brothers, she headed for Britain to meet up with the upcoming and popular wizard of that time – Godric Gryffindor. She admired his work on the properties and the uses of a griffin and had read many of his published books on the valuable use of other magical creatures. Gryffindor too had experience in teaching magic to the prisoners of The ‘War of Righteous Wands’ that was fought a decade before. Being a prisoner himself in the enemy camp, he had developed theories of transformation into animals and thus made significant contributions to the practice of turning into an Animagus. Gryffindor himself was one of the very first Animagi, with the ability of turning into a large tawny lion, managed to escape the rival camp by transforming.

After the meeting, they continued to travel together in the search of students both from magic and non- magic families with the view to establish a centre for formal execution of Magical learning and transmission of the discoveries they had made in magic…

Harry flipped the page with a grunt of impatience; it had been hours since he had tried to make some ‘breakthroughs’ in discovering a special object that had a link with Rowena Ravenclaw.

Days and days of browsing through texts and material, perusing spotty and yellowing old pages and he had absolutely no idea of any particular incident or object that was specially associated with her. Adjusting his wand’s light over the page once more, Harry coaxed his aching mind to read further.

From what it seemed, Ravenclaw had been pretty poor besides her extraordinary intellect and talent.

It didn’t seem very likely for her to have possessed any precious heirloom, or to have acquired any object of personal significance… anything at all… that Voldemort would have liked to convert into a horcrux…

It was in a dark cavern besides the Belgian waters that Harry lay hidden, having set up a small research area of his own. He had been hiding there for more than two months now, just like Sirius except that this was a self-inflicted imprisonment.

The cave was perfect… damp, dark, isolated, free from any human interference and with a regular supply of water Harry couldn’t swallow or use for human consumption. Zygroff bats and a few rodents were the only creatures to give him company, besides a huge, tottering pile of reading material that would have given Hermione Granger a run for her money.

Suddenly Harry looked up distracted by the complete absence of sound. For the past half hour he had been trying to block out the screeches and admonishes that Ron had been screaming at him from the enchanted mirror… it seemed like Ron had finally given up. Harry was inwardly thankful for this as he didn’t like the way Ron’s voice echoed through the stalactites and passages of the cave, the noise would prompt someone or something to investigate this would-be abandoned cave…

Harry convinced himself that this was the best way… the only way to go about it. If he ever picked up that mirror and communicated his location, Ron and Hermione would both be there in the wink of an eye to get him out of there, with fresh advice and consolation…

He didn’t want it… he didn’t need it. Isolation was the only way… and to get back on the trail for horcruxes… and get it over with before anyone else got hurt.

Deciding to skip his dinner for the third time that week, Harry Potter buried his nose into another dusty volume, as enormous as the previous while another sleepless hungry night awaited him…

***

Ginny Weasley examined her brother’s visage carefully, he seemed to have forgiven her for the little discovery he had made in his office regarding Josh Darlington, or at least he didn’t want to mention it… both of which suited her just fine.

She observed that Ron looked a little better since he had been attacked by Greyback, now that the whole procedure of covering up Greyback’s death was over. It had been pretty hectic for him to attend regular office and Order of the Phoenix sessions where more excuses were developed to cover Ron’s presence near Greyback that night… and his connection with the Goyle-Nott case.

Smiling to herself she wondered how her pig-headed brother was taking the fame all that had earned him…

Ron Weasley had become something of a celebrity once the Ministry officially announced a month ago that one of their Junior Aurors had finally disposed off the infamous Fenrir Greyback and also taken care of Walden Macnair, who had been involved in the murder of the boys at Hogsmeade. The Prophet had requested an interview with Ron, which he only turned down because he was having a ‘bad-hair day’ and the fan mail was pouring into Ron’s broken-down mailbox, from people all over who congratulated him for his achievement.

Not that all this was bad, but Ginny wished that Ron could have been spared all this publicity. She had already lost a brother and all this would definitely draw Voldemort’s attention to Ron, who was conspicuous enough as Harry’s best friend as it is. She knew that she was closer to Ron from any of her other brothers, even if he was a prat most of the times. Fred and George were a unit by themselves, Bill and Percy always treated her like a baby, and she knew Harry and Hermione only through him.

“So are you going to make it to Hermione’s party or not?” Ginny asked Ron, sipping her Butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks where they both sat.

“Yeah, she wrote that she adjusted it on a Saturday night so that we could all come. Any idea who else she’s invited… Harry won’t be coming of course… he seems to be too busy even to respond to a conversation!” Ron said with a grimace, looking down at his bottle as though it had cruelly ignored him.

Ginny tilted her head to one side with a smirk and said, “At least he’s a lot smarter than you are when it comes to avoiding attention. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the latest target on the Death Eater’s hit-list after all the pandemonium about Greyback and you”

“You’re just jealous because you haven’t been offered a reward of five- hundred galleons!” Ron retorted, his ears going red.

Rolling her eyes at him, Ginny got up to take leave of her irksome brother before saying “You’d better get her a nice present then for her birthday, since you’re all cashed up now. I doubt that the usual bag of dung bombs or Chocolate Frogs will work for you this time, Weasley” she said flashing her trademark devilish grin at Ron.

Read Chapter 11- The Sapphire Keystone here