money from it, so please Mrs. Rowling if you read this
don’t sue me. A comment or two would be welcome
though.
Please, if you read, take two minutes to review.
Harry was lying in his bed at #4 Privet Drive. It was past midnight, and The-Boy-Who-Lived couldn’t sleep. The death of Sirius was still raw in Harry’s heart. He was still blaming himself and Dumbledore about it. But whenever he got too upset, Luna’s words rang in his head:
“And anyway, it’s not as though I’ll never see Mum again, is it?” she had asked. Her words calmed him down enough that he had found someone else to blame, Voldemort. Loony Luna people called her. Harry smiled.
Maybe she wasn’t so loony after all, he thought. He found himself hoping she wasn’t.
“Get up and quit feeling sorry for yourself!” Harry jumped; it was the second time Sirius’s voice had popped into his head this summer. The first time was about two minutes after he had ripped up a letter from Ron on his second day home.
Harry had set himself against responding. Everyone he was close to got hurt. So he was going to push them away. The voice had been brutal that time.
“I didn’t die so you could live in a hole. You think you’re the only one to make mistakes? Look what I did to your parents!” Sirius’s voice bellowed at him.
Harry smiled sadly at the memory. It had taken him an hour to tape the letter back together. Harry sat up in bed.
“It’s no use,” he said to himself. “I might as well write to the Order.”
Harry had been writing to the Order every three days. There was no sense in having them show up to torment the Dursleys. His aunt, uncle and cousin may have been miserable people, but Harry was past wanting to see them squirm. He would just as soon let them be and be left alone by them.
I wouldn’t mind being left alone by Voldemort either, he thought. Harry focused his mind on the Dark Lord, opening a small crack in the conduit that seemed to connect them.
“What do you say? You leave me alone, I’ll leave you alone.” Harry felt a surge of pain in his scar.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought too,” he mumbled, as he closed the conduit between himself and Voldemort again.
Ever since that night in the Ministry of Magic when Voldemort had possessed Harry’s body, he had been able to open and shut the conduit with relative ease. Most days it didn’t even prickle. Once in a while a big surge would come through, but Harry could shut it out within a second or two.
It had taken Harry a week to bring himself to write to Dumbledore about it. Dumbledore had theorized that in possessing Harry’s body, Voldemort had again inadvertently transferred some of his abilities to Harry. Harry was sure of it. He had even gone so far as to open a crack in the conduit and voice the thought to Voldemort; the response was not what Harry had expected.
In rapid succession Harry felt a surge of surprise from the Dark Lord at his invasion. This had been followed by realization from Voldemort of the truth in Harry’s question. And then, just as quickly, fear. After recovering from the shock that he could scare Voldemort, Harry had pushed another thought to him.
“Good, you should be afraid, because I will beat you." He had then closed the connection.
Harry knew he had touched a nerve, because even though he had been concentrating on keeping the conduit closed, his scar had prickled at him most of the night. He was quite glad that he had not been one of Voldemort’s followers that night.
Harry looked over to the photos of his family and friends. There was a few of different members of the Order, and one chocolate frog card of Albus Dumbledore. The picture of the Hogwarts Headmaster winked at him.
“I know. I shouldn’t have done it. But there has to be some good that can come from him knowing I’m still here and not afraid,” Harry said to the picture. He watched as Dumbledore moved out of the frame leaving an empty card for him to look at.
Harry wasn’t sure, but a comment made last summer by Bill Weasley had fixed in his mind, the third day of the summer holiday, almost two weeks ago now. At the time, Dumbledore had been trying to spread the word that Voldemort had returned.
Cornelius Fudge, the head of the Ministry of Magic, had refused to believe the truth and had begun a campaign to discredit Dumbledore. The Ministry had removed Dumbledore from committees and taken away titles he had earned, claiming he was old and somewhat senile in an attempt to turn the public against him.
Bill had said Dumbledore’s response was:
“He didn’t care what they did as long as they didn’t take him off the chocolate frog cards.” That comment, and the realization that Dumbledore had numerous photos in his office, that would run off to other photos of themselves, see something and come back to report to Dumbledore had clicked in Harry’s head.
Harry guessed that Dumbledore was using the chocolate frog cards to spy on people. It made sense. What else could explain, no matter how trivial it was or how remote the location the information came from, how Dumbledore always seemed to know what was going on? His card was certainly the most plentiful; probably every child in the magic world had one.
Brilliant really, Harry thought. He gets in every house and picks up every bit of gossip. Harry had set up the card on his desk so Dumbledore could keep an eye on him. He also carried one in his pocket at all times. And even though he had not told them why, he had sent letters to all his friends with a card of Dumbledore, making them promise to also carry one at all times. Harry reached for a piece of parchment and a quill.
Headquarters:
Just checking in, things here are dull, but at least I know why I am here now.
Tell Mad-Eye that it will be at least another three days before he can come torment Uncle Vernon.
Harry.
It wasn’t much, but would serve its purpose. Harry knew there was no sense asking what was going on in the battle against Voldemort. He knew no answer would come by Owl Post.
Harry looked at the stack of letters from his friends. He sighed, thinking back to the summer after his first year at Hogwarts. Dobby had been intercepting the letters being sent to him. He could remember what it felt like, thinking that Ron and Hermione had forgotten about him. But then Dobby had appeared, accidentally spilled his secret, gotten Harry caged in his room and then Ron had shown up with his brothers Fred and George and the flying Ford Anglia to rescue him from the Durselys.
Harry grinned again and started writing another letter, this time to Fred and George. Letters from Ron, Hermione, Luna, Neville, and now a first, a letter from Ginny Weasley, waited to be answered. He would be up all night writing back, but it felt a lot better to have friends than it did when you had none. That was a feeling Harry would never forget. He had spent eleven years without any.
Ron was at his desk writing in his diary again. He paused for a moment, thinking that he would rather be downstairs listening to the conversation between his parents and Professor Dumbledore. Ron sighed, and turned back to the diary. He had been at it every spare moment so far this summer. At least he had when he wasn’t trying to figure out new spells to put on it so others couldn’t read it. Ron was proud of what he had come up with and was sure it was safe from just about everyone.
Everyone but Hermione, the voice in his head spoke up.
Bloody Hell! She drives me nuts, Ron answered.
That’s because you’re too chicken to tell her you love her you idiot, the voice shot back at him. Ron sighed again.
I know, but what can I do, when she’s fawning over Krum? I can’t compete with that. Besides, if it’s not Krum then it’s Harry. The voice didn’t answer. Ron let out a groan. He could deal with it if Hermione and Harry were to become a couple, just so she didn’t pick Krum. At least that’s what he told himself.
Ron looked at the diary again. It had turned into a chronicle of what he, Harry, and Hermione had gone thru since starting at Hogwarts. A history of their battle against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, it had been easy to write, the story flowing from his brain, to his hand, to the parchment quickly. It was an honest account, with no embellishment of his deeds as sometimes happens when a person sets out to do this kind of thing.
His last entry had taken more effort. Putting down on paper how he felt about his place in respect to Harry and Hermione had not been easy. It was fairly short, but it told clearly what he felt.
Ron knew he didn’t have the power Harry did. Oh they could both do the same spells. But in a fight, if he could ring your bell, Harry could use the same spell and knock you into next week.
Hermione on the other hand was not as powerful as Harry or Ron. There was however, no doubt she was the brains. She could master a spell quicker, in minutes sometimes, that might take Harry or himself days to figure out. Hermione, despite the disaster at the Ministry, was also the one to slow both of them down long enough to use their heads instead of force.
Even though he had been chosen as Prefect and Harry wasn’t, Ron was sure Dumbledore had screwed up. He would take it though, even if he didn’t think it rightfully his. He only hoped that one day, just once, he would be first and truly believe in his heart that it didn’t really belong to someone else.
All that said, Harry and Hermione were an incomplete wheel without him. He was the third spoke that to this day allowed the wheel to go round.
He was the one who in the first year had played the chess game as they tried to save the Sorcerer’s Stone from the Dark Lord. That was the one thing neither of them could have done.
No, he thought to himself as he read what he had written. I really don’t mind being second or third to either of them.
Ron sat there; he was stuck now with only one thing left to write about. The real reason he had bought the diary in the first place. And even though he was desperate to put the words on parchment, he still couldn’t do it.
Ron knew that the second he wrote down (Ron loves Hermione) in that bloody book, he would have to guard it with his life. He knew that if Hermione wanted to, she could break his spells and read everything he had written. That scared him more than facing You-Know-Who. So he sat there, with open book, quill and ink not writing for the third night in a row.
A knock on his door caused Ron to jump so much that he toppled backwards in his chair crashing to floor.
“Ronald…” he heard his mother ask, “are you still awake?” Ron shoved the diary under his pillow.
“Yeah Mum,” he replied.
“There is someone here who would like to see you. May we come in?” Ron scrambled to his feet.
“It’s 2:00 am, who wants to see me?” he muttered to himself.
“Yeah sure, Mum, come in,” Ron called towards the closed door. The door opened and his mother walked in followed by Professor Dumbledore. Ron was flabbergasted.
What could the Headmaster want to see me about? Maybe they weren’t talking about Order business. Bugger, I must have really screwed up on the O.W.L.’s or something, he thought. Professor Dumbledore smiled at him.
“Ronald,” Mrs. Weasley started, “Professor Dumbledore just wanted to say, he knows how miserable it has been for Harry to stay with the Dursleys. But up until know, because of the protections his mother put in place when she was killed by He-Who….“
“Voldemort,” Professor Dumbledore interrupted her, and then fell silent again. Ron felt a cold sensation go up his spine at the sound of the Dark Lord’s name and he could see his mother shudder.
“Yes well,” she continued, flustered. “Harry has had to stay with them because it was the safest place for him… After Hogwarts of course,” she added, with a smile at Dumbledore. He was studying his fingernails.
“Well, your professor says he has figured out now how to protect Harry here at the Burrow. So he just wanted to tell you that it would be ok for you to write Harry and ask him to stay till school starts again.” Ron’s eyes widened, he turned to look at Dumbledore, forgetting his troubles with the diary.
“You mean it sir? He’ll be thrilled. I’ll write to him right now. Sir, what did you do?” Ron spit this all out very quickly. Dumbledore seemed not to have heard him. He was eating a chocolate frog and had been turning over the card of himself that had come with it in his hands. He set the card on his Ron’s desk.
“I was really hoping for Parko Molo. I don’t really need a card to remind me what I’ve done.” Ron and his mother stared at Dumbledore both waiting for the answer to Ron’s question. Dumbledore looked at them.
“What?... Oh yes well I’m afraid I can’t answer that, as it is something entirely new and giving you the answer would make it easier for the protections to be broken. You see the truth of it is, I have always known that Harry had it rough with his aunt and uncle. I have been looking for a way to safely remove Harry from their house since I brought him there as an infant. And while I would have insisted that Harry stay with them till starting his first year at Hogwarts, if it had been in my power to protect him he would not have returned to his aunt and uncle after his first year… Sadly, Harry has had to return there because I did not feel it safe for him to be anywhere else.” Ron felt disappointed that he would not learn what Dumbledore had done, but it was diminished by the thought of Harry staying for the rest of the summer.
“I will tell you this,” Professor Dumbledore continued. “It is not the Burrow or some place that makes Harry safe. It depends on the people he is with. I have come up with a spell and placed it on all members of your family, Miss Hermione Granger, Miss Luna Lovegood, and Mr. Neville Longbottom. I am happy to say that with this spell, a step that Harry has taken to protect himself, and others I might add, along with Harry’s own growth as a wizard, that he no longer must stay with the Dursleys. Harry is free to go anywhere he chooses so long as he is with one or more of the people I named before. As always, a person should choose wisely where they go,” Dumbledore fell silent again, his eyes twinkling.
“Well, if that’s about it then,” Mrs. Weasley said, standing up. “Ronald we will be leaving now, why don’t you get that letter written to Harry, and perhaps, we should ask Hermione to come also. I think Harry would like that,” she added. Just as Dumbledore was about to walk out of his room, Ron had an idea.
“Professor Dumbledore sir, could I ask you a question in private?” Dumbledore stopped, looked at Molly and then back to Ron.
“I’ll wait for you in the kitchen, Albus,” she said. “I trust you can find your way to it,” she teased. Professor Dumbledore stepped back into Ron’s room, chuckling to himself at Molly’s joke.
“How may I be of assistance to you, Ronald?” he asked, closing the door. Ron hesitated, wondering how good of an idea it was to ask the Headmaster for help protecting a diary, but gathered his courage and pulled it out from under his pillow.
“Sir, I’ve searched and studied and put every anti-snooping and secrecy spell on this that I can find. But it’s not enough; I need a spell, a spell that a certain witch can’t break. I thought if you could protect Harry from He-Who….“
“Voldemort,” Dumbledore interrupted him. “That is his name, Ronald, go on and try it. You will not be struck dead.” Ron felt the cold shiver go up his spine for the second time that night at the Dark Lord’s name.
Hesitating, struggling with his fear, but realizing that if he wanted Dumbledore’s help he would have to say the name. Ron screwed up his courage for the second time that night.
“Ok, if you can protect Harry from,” he took a deep breath, “Voldemort,” Ron said, his voice cracking as the name came out. “Can you help me with a spell to protect my diary?” Dumbledore looked at Ron with a gleam in his eye and a small flutter in his heart.
The boy may finally be ready to take the step I know he must, Dumbledore thought to himself. Dumbledore held his hand out to Ron.
“May I see it please?” Ron handed the diary over. Dumbledore examined the diary for a few minutes. Opening it, only to see empty pages where Ron had written long entries.
“Ah yes.” He took out his wand, held it over the diary and with a flick of his wrist all the spells placed to protect it were gone. Ron was frustrated, but not really surprised to see Dumbledore break his spells with so little effort. After all, he was the most powerful wizard on the planet.
“All very good spells, Ronald, worked with skill and precision. I think that it would have taken Professors McGonagall and Professors Snape many hours, perhaps even a day or two before they defeated them all. Any normal student at Hogwarts would have been stumped for years. I believe that your friend Mr. Potter could not at this time in his training work out the solution, though maybe in a year or so…“ his voice trailed off before continuing. “Were school in session I would feel compelled to award some points for your efforts.” Ron felt his ears turning red as he basked in the glow of Dumbledore’s praise.
“However,” Dumbledore said, “Miss Hermione Granger. It is she who I assume you want to keep out of this little book?” Dumbledore asked a twinkle in his eye. Ron just nodded his head. Dumbledore smiled kindly at him.
“I am afraid that she is a witch like the world has not seen in many years. Perhaps since Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw themselves walked the halls of Hogwarts. I think if she wanted to, it would only have taken her a few hours or so longer than it took me to get past your spells.”
“That’s kind of what I thought myself, sir,” Ron said gloomily. “Please Professor, will you help me?” Professor Dumbledore stood up looking into Ron’s eyes. What he saw was not someone pleading for help with a diary. He saw what he had been waiting five years for.
At last he is ready, Dumbledore said to himself.
But tonight, is not the night, a voice in Dumbledore’s head spoke up.
“Ronald, you will come to my office the first Friday of the new term. I will take this with me to ponder a solution to your problem,” Dumbledore said, holding up the diary. “You have my word that I will not read what you have written.”
Ron really didn’t want to let the diary go, but figured it was as safe with Dumbledore as it would be anywhere else on the planet, so he just nodded his head in agreement. Dumbledore smiled at him again.
“Goodnight, Ronald, enjoy the rest of the summer holidays with your friends. I will see you the first Friday of term after class 7:00 pm. Do not be late,” he said. Ron gulped, wondering what he had gotten himself into. Dumbledore smiled again, and with a loud pop he disapperated, leaving Ron in his room alone. Ron shook off the warning the Headmaster had given him and smiled to himself.
“Well Hermione, I think I may finally outsmart you for once,” he said quietly into the night. “Of course I had to enlist the help of probably the greatest wizard of the last thousand years or more,” he added a moment later.
Ron replayed Dumbledore’s words in his mind. “A witch like the world has not seen in many years, probably since Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw.”
“You’re telling me,” he snorted out loud. “And I’m not even talking about her abilities,” he added.
Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Dumbledore, Ron hoped, was better than either, because otherwise Hermione would defeat whatever spells he thought of.
Oh well, I could always try to write it, then burn it, he thought. Ron sat down at his desk again and started writing his letters, first to Hermione, and then to Harry.
What had Harry done to protect himself and others anyways? Ron mused as he watched professor Dumbledore slide out of the chocolate frog card. He turned his attention to Hermione’s letter.
This is going to have to be good, said the voice in his head.
Hermione tossed fitfully in her sleep. She was in the stands for a Quidditch match, England versus Bulgaria. She had left Hogwarts along with Ron and Harry a year ago now. They were both playing for England. Victor Krum was still the Seeker for Bulgaria. These three men were everywhere in her life. They filled her dreams at night and her eyes during the day.
Hermione enjoyed watching them fly. Flying was the one thing she was not good at. Oh, she knew how. But to move with grace, speed and free of fear. She couldn’t do it. So she watched them.
Harry and Victor were unrivaled by any other in the world. It seemed that their brooms would respond to their thoughts. Changing direction to chase after the Snitch before other players even realized the Snitch had been there and gone again.
It was amazing at this level. The Snitch was much faster than it had ever been in a match between houses at Hogwarts. She, along with most everyone else in the world, could not even follow it without her omnioculars set for slow motion; even then it was still a blur.
Not that it mattered at this point in the match, as neither Harry nor Victor had found it. Both had tried a few tricks against the other. They had both realized that they were just wasting their energy. So now the two of them circled high above the field searching.
She shifted the omnioculars to the England goal to watch Ron. At this level players didn’t have to supply their own broom and were given an equal broom. Ron was as good as any Keeper in the world. Maybe the best, some were starting to say.
If Hermione enjoyed watching Harry and Victor fly, she loved to watch Ron. It fascinated her how he anticipated where to be to intercept a shot. He seemed to always move to block the shot a split second before it was taken. She watched him darting from goal hoop to goal hoop, her heart swelling with pride with each save he made.
Hermione didn’t notice the crowd gasp as the Seekers spotted the snitch and blazed after it. Didn’t even realize the game was over, until she saw Ron leave his spot guarding the posts and head for the ground.
“What’s he doing?” she asked, turning to Ron’s sister Ginny.
“The game is over. Victor got the Snitch,” Ginny replied. “Were you watching Ron in goal again?” she asked, in exasperation.
Hermione looked at the crowd. All of the England fans seemed to be in a daze, while the Bulgaria fans celebrated raucously around them. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she quickly dialed the slow motion replay of Harry and Victor as they chased after the Snitch.
The Snitch flew across the field; Harry spotting it first but Victor in a better position to chase after it had the early lead. As they dove for the ground to follow the Snitch Harry had pulled along side, and then ahead of Victor. She saw the Snitch stop and reverse course. Both Harry and Victor instantly looped their brooms over backwards to follow it. And then it happened.
A Bludger, hit by one of England’s own players, smashed into Harry knocking him into two complete barrel rolls. Harry had managed to keep on track, following the Snitch the whole way, but it was all Victor needed. He closed his hand around the Snitch an instant before Harry closed his hand around Victor’s.
Hermione sat down hard in the stands. She felt cold when she should have been elated. Victor was her fiancé. She was to marry him in two weeks, but all she felt was sick, sick for Ron and Harry.
Hermione woke with a start, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, breathing hard, her heart racing. She shook her head trying to clear her mind.
“It was only a dream,” she said out loud, while getting up to walk around her room so she could think.
I don’t get it. Why? That’s the third time this week and the tenth or eleventh in the two and a half weeks I’ve been home from Hogwarts, she thought to herself. Hermione sat down at her desk and picked up a letter from Victor. He had asked her to come visit him again. She wasn’t sure what to do. She thought she wanted to go. She liked Victor, even if Ron didn’t. Not that that mattered to her.
“I’ll make up make up my own mind about whom I date regardless of what he or anyone else thinks,” she snapped into the night. Victor was the only boy who had ever asked her out. Well there was Neville, but she had known Neville was not the one for her, so she had told him no. It had certainly been easier telling him no when Victor had already asked her and she had said yes.
Ron, she thought. He asked too.
But it had been out of desperation - he didn’t have a date for the ball yet and didn’t want to go alone. Then there was his comment to Harry.
“We had better hurry and get dates or we’ll end up with a couple of hags,” he had said. She had told him off for that. And her anger at being asked as a last resort, it had made telling him no easy.
Hermione felt her anger starting to rise again now as she thought about it. The fight she and Ron had on the night of the ball was one for ages. The way he had asked her out had been a horrible blow to her. And when Ron had seen who her date was, his attacks were too much to take, accusing her of fraternizing with the enemy. She had not helped Victor once in the Goblet of Fire Tournament - Not One Single Thing. She had lashed out at Ron that night. Leaving him standing in the common room speechless.
You also cried yourself to sleep that night, said the voice inside her head. Why? Hermione knew the answer to that one; she had loved him, well it was a crush anyways.
Crush my foot, the voice snapped.
Fine! Hermione snapped back. I loved him and I wanted desperately to go to the dance with him. It was the only reason it could have hurt that much. She was crying again, a year and a half later just remembering it.
“Well, not anymore,” she said firmly. “He is still one of my best friends but I don’t love him anymore.” Hermione was almost surprised that the voice remained quiet.
Hermione put down Victor’s letter and picked up the one from Harry. It had been a little odd. He had sent it with about ten chocolate frog cards of Professor Dumbledore, telling her that Hedwig was going to peck her hands until she agreed to place them around the house and in her parent’s yard.
“Spell them so they’re hidden and won’t blow away or be damaged by the rain. Most important carry one with you at all times.” Harry had refused to say why he wanted her to do this.
She had been inclined to refuse but Hedwig had only hooted at her once, to get her to rethink that decision. It wasn’t really a bother and was not worth getting your hand pecked. She had agreed and sent a letter back to Harry to say so.
What was odd was that Hedwig would show up at any hour, sometimes with no letter from Harry, sometimes with a letter for someone else to check that she still had the card. Pecking at her hand till Hermione would pull the picture out of her pocket and show the silly bird. Hedwig would hoot softly at her, nuzzle her heck and then fly off.
Harry, the third man in her life, still more of a boy than a man, she thought.
And you are still more girl than grown woman, piped up the voice in her head again.
Back again? Hermione snapped.
Harry. Despite his temper last year, the only one who had never really hurt her, and had always been there when Ron was being truly awful to her.
“Except for when I told Professor McGonagall about the Firebolt and she took it away,” Hermione said.
Can you really blame him for that? the voice piped up again.
“I did the right thing and only because I wanted to protect him,” she answered.
Yes, you did but can you blame him? Hermione considered for a moment.
“Well I can’t be mad at him for it anymore.” The voice was silent again.
Harry was like a brother. No, even that was confused now. Hermione wasn’t stupid, and towards the end of last year - well, whenever she had been alone with him she felt nervous in her stomach. He was certainly attractive.
More so than Ron? she asked herself. No, just different. Is it any wonder I don’t have any girlfriends at school? My two best friends are easily the cutest boys in my year. And Harry is The-Boy-Who-Lived. The boy, who to-date had faced Voldemort five times and escaped or been outright victorious each time. Once was more than any one else alive today. Save Dumbledore and Ginny Weasley could say.
Why not? she thought looking at her reflection in the window. Just see what it sounds like.
“Hermione Potter,” she said out loud. It sounded nice to her, even caused a small flutter in her chest.
“I could certainly see myself with him,” she said. But then the voice in her head popped up.
Well it may sound nice and he loves you I have no doubt, but like you said before, brother and sister.
Well luckily, Hermione snapped back. We’re not. So maybe more is possible. Again the voice was quiet.
Hermione heard a tapping on the windowpane. Startled she looked out to see Pig, the tiny owl Ron had received from Sirius Black. Hermione opened the window and the owl flew in hooting happily and rushing around the room.
“Argh, you’re just like Ron, come here so I can get that letter off your leg.” Pig flew down and sat in her hand while she pulled off the letter.
“There you go. Now go sit with Crookshanks. I may need you to take a letter back to whoever this is from.” Pig flew off and settled on the back of Hermione’s large orange cat. She watched for a moment as the cat rolled over and batted at the tiny owl like a ball of yarn. The bird flittered in and out of reach of the cat hooting in joy at the game.
“Crazy animals,” Hermione said, shaking her head. Hermione sat down and started to read the letter. It was from Ron and she felt her stomach lurch.
I thought as much, remarked the voice in her head.
Shut it you, Hermione snapped.
Dear Hermione:
Mum has said that I could ask a friend or two to stay; she says you are welcome for the rest of the summer and will be glad to help with getting you off to school and such. I realize you might want to spend some time with your parents, and that you might have an offer to go visit someone else.
Maybe you could come for just week or a few days. You could stay in with Ginny. She mentioned that she missed talking to you. Well I did too, even if I’m usually getting yelled at. Sorry, please don’t take that the wrong way.
Anyways, I was really hoping you would come, maybe you could help me try to get an early start on our summer homework. Keep Pig with you until you send back an answer. Crazy bird was driving me daft anyways.
With Love,
Ronald
P.S. Harry is likely to be here, Dumbledore came up with some new protection so he does not need to stay with his aunt and uncle anymore. I am writing to ask him after this and will use Errol to deliver the letter. I hope he doesn’t die on the way there.
Hermione blinked twice as she read the letter through three times. This was unlike any letter she had ever received from Ron. He wanted her to come stay. And even though he brought it up, he had not attacked her about Viktor. And he had signed his name Ronald. Hermione knew he hated his full name. Only a few people could get away with it.
It’s just my imagination, she said to herself. And he has asked me to come before, and Harry is going to be there too.
Oh come on, the voice in the back of her head popped up yet once again. Read between the lines girl, what would you tell Harry if he got that letter from Cho Chang? This time it was Hermione who had no answer. She sat contemplating for a minute.
Harry will be there too, the voice urged. Hermione picked up a quill and started writing.
Ronald:
I’ll come stay, not sure when or for how long till after I talk to my parents.
Send Pig back so I can tell you when I’ll be there. I don’t mind him being a pain, I‘m used to it after putting up with you and Harry. See you soon.
With Love
Hermione
“Pig come here, I need you to take this back to Ron,” Hermione called to the owl. She tied the letter to the owl’s leg and sent it out the window. An hour later a second owl left her room headed in the other direction.
“Well,” Hermione said quietly, “that narrows it down to two. The hard part will be deciding which one and telling him.”
It always is, the voice replied.
Hermione was startled to see it was light out now; she could hear her mother and father downstairs getting breakfast ready. She entered the kitchen a few moments later and sat down at the table.
“Mum, Dad, I need to ask you something.” Her parents turned to look at her.
“What is it dear?” her mother asked.
“I know you will be disappointed, that we had plans to go to the coast, but I would like to go stay at the Burrow with Ronald’s family.” Her parents were definitely shocked by her request.
“But you only just got home for the summer,” they both stammered together.
“I know,” Hermione answered, not meeting her parent’s eyes.
“When and for how long do you want to go?” Mr. Granger asked.
“As soon as possible and for as long as you will let me stay,” Hermione replied.
“Why?” asked her mother in a hushed voice. Hermione looked up. Her mother had tears in her eyes. This caused her to start crying also. She took a deep breath before answering.
“Because there are two boys there I really like. Ginny is there, she is the best friend I have in the whole world. I miss the magic world, Mum. I don’t feel right away from it. I can visit the non-magic world for periods of time and enjoy it, but it is not where I belong.” Hermione’s father broke the silence that followed.
“Hermione, you have always been older than your age. Your mother and I however, are not ready to let you go entirely. We still need to have time with you. If there is a place we can stay near the Burrow with you, you may go tomorrow. We will cancel plans for the coast and stay the summer there instead. If we cannot stay there with you, you may go when we return from the coast in three weeks.” Hermione wiped her cheeks.
“Thank you,” she answered, smiling weakly at them. Her mother and father returned her smile.
“Go fix your daughter her breakfast,” Mrs. Granger said to her father. He shook his head and returned to the stove.
“Now, tell me about these two boys,” she whispered across the table to Hermione. Hermione felt her face flush.
“Well,” she said...
Hermione went back to her room and fell onto her bed. She was exhausted and when she woke again it was to the sound of Pig banging on the window to be let in. She quickly dashed off a letter to Ron, telling him if there was a place her parents could come and stay too, she could be there tomorrow. If not, that she would be there in three weeks.
Harry reread the letter from Ron. He started to write back, but looking at Errol lying on his bed unconscious, he simply started packing. Hedwig was out delivering his mail so he put the exhausted Errol in Hedwig’s cage and walked down the stairs to the Dursley’s living room.
“I’m leaving,” he announced. “I have been asked to stay by the Weasleys for the rest of the summer. I doubt that I will need to bother you again. But I will write if you would like.” His aunt, uncle and cousin just stared at him in stunned silence.
“I thought as much,” Harry mumbled to himself, surprised at the disappointment he felt.
Harry turned to go, and was halfway out the door when his Aunt stopped him.
“I would not object to a letter.” Harry turned, he was unsure of what to make of this change in his aunt. He put his things down walked back and hugged her.
“Thank you, Aunt Petunia,” he whispered to her. Harry turned again lugged his trunk down to the curb and held out his wand.
Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk stroking the feathers of Fawkes’s tail. Staring at the words of the prophecy written in front of him, he shook his head in disgust.
Why must I fight a war with children? I could easily enough hit Tom with the death curse again. Banish him for a period of time, so that they are older when the fight must occur, he thought.
And he could just as easily kill you, a voice responded.
You have no clue what will happen if you hit Tom with the death curse. What if it reflects back at you? They will have no one to guide them. Even if you did banish him for a time, we grow old. Is it better for them to fight as children with your help, or as adults without us? another voice added.
You are right, the time grows near when the battle will occur, better they do it with me than without, Dumbledore replied. The question is can I teach him? The stretches of ability from repeating what others before you have done to stepping out and doing what no one else has. That is the real trick. Am I up to it? he asked himself silently.
You must be, came the reply.
If the student is capable then you can teach him. You have never failed before. You will not now, said a third voice.
Besides, said a fourth. We have the lesson plan ready and the first Friday of term will come no matter what we do. Dumbledore just smiled sadly as the discussion went on in his head. He was quite used to it now.
Everyone has one voice that lives in their head. It usually talks to us at the most inopportune of times. And it is not uncommon for people to develop more than one voice in their head. It happens in the Muggle world all the time. Those people go crazy, unable to harness or quiet the voices.
In the magic world, if a second voice popped up in a witch or wizards head, it was simply ignored and the voice died. On rare occasions though, a sorcerer was born with the ability to harness the voice. Turn it into a gift. It was almost as uncommon as being able to speak parseltongue. There were currently two wizards alive who could do that. There were currently three wizards, and two witches alive who had the gift of more than one voice in their head.
Dumbledore thought of the voices as his other selves. He often referred to them simply as one, two, three, or four. Combined with his always conscious self he was essentially five wizards.
Each self had all his knowledge and ability. He could allow them to function autonomously as they were now. In a battle, if he chose to, he could fight as five different wizards, letting each self take care of him as it saw fit. If that didn’t suit him, he could be a general, assigning two and three to maintaining a shield spell while attacking with one and four.
If a task required only thought, Dumbledore could assign one self to figure it out. It would come back to him a week later with the answer, and he might have forgotten that he assigned the task to begin with.
Dumbledore knew it wasn’t just his immense power that had made him a great wizard. It was these other selves, multiplying his ability that had made him what many considered the greatest wizard of modern times.
Dumbledore didn’t know for sure, but suspected that all of the truly great sorcerers in history had developed this gift. In fact, there were usually two or three alive at one time. Four of them living in the same age had come together briefly to found Hogwarts. Merlin, the greatest wizard in all of history, the wizard who had served in King Arthur’s court, he had developed six selves to go with his conscious self. Grindelwald, a great, but evil wizard who Dumbledore himself had defeated, had developed three.
Dumbledore looked back to the prophecy, a prophecy that he had managed to keep from Voldemort. The roles were being claimed. Soon he would have to reveal the prophecy to those people. For now, he had to wait.
Author's note:
I can't remember if I thought of the chocolate frog cards or read about them on the web. I know that it has been in my mind a long time. However, since I can't recall for sure I will give credit to wherever it was that I saw it on the web. I think it was mugglenet.com.
The idea for the voices, though she has not developed it to this extent yet is from J.K. Rowling herself. I won't tell you where quite yet, but it is in book four and is only one line. Good luck finding it.
I hope you like the start.