Surreal

Part 3 – Helpless

A/N: Yes, this story was indeed inspired by the Buffy episode Normal Again, but as the story progresses, you will see it is unique in its own way. I saw the episode once, when it first broadcast, and forgot about it, then I got to thinking that I wanted to do a story where Harry’s love for Hermione saves her from a similar fate, and went back to an episode guide and read a brief synopsis of the episode instead of just watching the episode again. I promise I will not rip that story off completely. As to any other stories on Portkey or any other HP stories with this theme, I wouldn’t know, because I haven’t read any yet. 

To everyone who has been so kind and sweet to me by sending loving messages and well wishes for my mother and my schooling, I really appreciate it. Thank you so very much. It’s deeply appreciated and I want you all to know that.

Okay, on with the next part…

~~~~~

Hermione paid the driver, which took nearly all of her money, and stepped out in front of Number 4 Privet Drive. It was three in the morning, and she wasn’t sure how she would get Harry’s attention. With the taxi gone, she was alone on the street. It was just as frightening here as it had been the night she and Harry had been attacked by the ramscorde.

If that had really happened that is, Hermione thought. She wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. Was this the real world? Or was Hogwarts the truth she’d left behind?

She looked up at the windows. If memory served her correctly, and it usually did, Ron, Fred, and George had saved Harry from during their second year when the Dursleys had been starving him. They had pulled some bars off of one of the windows, so there should be evidence of repair.

But as Hermione studied the windows, she saw there was nothing out of the ordinary. It seemed as if the windows had never been damaged.

Hermione found some gravel in a neat and trim little flower bed next to the front steps and picked up a handful. She chose a window at random and began to throw stones, hoping she wouldn’t wake up the Dursleys or Harry’s vile cousin, Dudley. If she did, they would call the police, and she’d probably end up in an institution for the mentally unstable.

After a few rocks, the window slid open. Hermione was immensely relieved to see Harry’s head poke out. Their eyes met, but there was no spark of recognition from Harry. And, she noted, he looked wide awake, despite the late hour.

“Harry?” she said, so relieved to see his face, even if he didn’t seem to know her.

“Yeah. Who’re you?”

“It’s me. Hermione.”

He just stared at her. “Do I know you?”

Hermione felt as if she’d swallowed a large chunk of ice. “Of course you do! I’m one of your best friends.”

Harry stared at her some more, studying her, and then he looked around the lawn. “Is this one of ’s jokes? Bothering me in the middle of the night?”

She couldn’t believe this. Harry Potter didn’t know her, Hermione Granger.

“It’s no joke Harry.”

“Ha-ha. Really funny. Now go annoy someone else.”

He shut the window, leaving her alone on the street in the middle of the night, in a strange neighborhood, scared, desperate, hungry, and cold. Hermione picked up another handful of stones and began pecking the window again. He tried to ignore her, but she persisted until he pulled the window back up.

“What!” he whispered as loudly as he could without waking the Dursleys.

“Harry please. I really need your help. I have nowhere else to go.”

“Not my problem, is it?” he asked coolly. This time he left the window open so she couldn’t peck at it anymore.

Hermione sank to the dew glazed steps and leaned against the door. Feeling lost, alone, and betrayed by her last hope of help, she began to cry. She tried to keep it down lest the Dursleys hear, but she didn’t know what else to do.

She didn’t know how long she lay shivering in the cold, listening to her belly growl from hunger, before the door opened and she fell inside the house, which was blessedly warm. She hit the floor and found herself looking up into Harry’s face. She quickly got to her feet, both relieved to see him and apprehensive. What would he say? He obviously didn’t know her.

“Thank you.”

“Shhh!” he whispered, looking up at the ceiling and listening for his uncle. She studied his face in the light from the streetlamp. He looked exactly the same as always except for a few changes. For instance, his hair wasn’t as unruly, he didn’t have the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead, he didn’t wear glasses, so she could see that his eyes were blue, not green. 

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“It’s complicated,” she replied. Her belly growled loudly. “Do you have anything to eat?”

He hesitated, staring at her as if ready to push her back outside and close the door in her face. Finally he sighed.  “Yeah, come on. Be quiet.”

She followed him through the house and into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and took out some left over chicken, which he gave to her. She sat down at the table and devoured three pieces right away, as well as some bread and a can of soda. When she was finished, Harry quickly cleaned up the mess and put the food away.

“Hermione Granger. I remember you now,” Harry whispered. “You used to run with the Weasley’s. Ron would beat up on me and you’d stand by and watch.”

Hermione had a very difficult time believing what Harry was telling her. She couldn’t imagine Ron as a bully, and she certainly couldn’t imagine herself as being the type to stand by and condone it.

“I picked on you?” she asked.

“No, but you never did anything to stop it either.”

“I don’t remember that at all.”

“I do,” he said, somewhat bitterly. “I remember it very well.”

“If I was so horrible to you, why are you helping me now?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess ‘cause all that stuff happened a long time ago. So what did you do? Run away from home?”

She nodded and laid a hand across his on the table, but he promptly snatched it away. As Hermione looked into his eyes, she saw that something was missing in them. It only took her a moment to see that it was the warmth and friendliness that had always glowed within them.  This Harry seemed reserved, almost to the point of being cold. He claims she’d been party to his mistreatment at someone’s hands, yet he was willing to take her in an feed her. He did kind things, but there was no kindness in his eyes. 

She supposed this was the product of years of abuse from his Aunt and Uncle with no one to show him love and affection. She felt a great surge of pity for him.

“I had to find you.”

“What for?”

“It’s hard to explain. See, I woke up this morning-“

A door opened upstairs and Harry pulled Hermione away from the table. He shoved her into a broom closet and went to the fridge and pulled out a can of soda. She watched through the slats as he opened it and sat back at the table. A fat man came into the room. She recognized him as Vernon Dursley.

“What are you doing out of bed at this hour boy?”

“I got thirsty,” he said. Then he quickly added “and hungry.”

“So you’re eating up the food in the middle of the night are you? What if got hungry? What’s he supposed to do, eat your leftovers?”

Harry said nothing and slapped the back of Harry’s head, hard. It was a hard hit because Hermione could see tears well up in Harry’s eyes from the force of the blow.  It took all of her reserve not to rush from the broom closet and let the great fool have a piece of her mind. How dare he treat Harry like that?

“You won’t be eating any meat for dinner this evening then, will you boy? Now get back to bed.”

“May I finish my soda?” Harry asked coolly.

“You’d bloody well better! I paid good money for that. You’d best not waste it.  Useless piece of rubbish you are boy…”

turned and left the room. When he was gone, Harry motioned for her to come out. She rushed to him and looked him over, fussing over him. He looked extremely uncomfortable as he stepped away from her. Obviously he’d never had anyone show him tenderness or concern. That hurt her more than her own strange predicament.

“Harry, are you alright? How’s your head?”

“I’m fine. That was just a love tap.”

“He hit you hard!” she whispered loudly. He motioned for her to shush.

“I don’t know what you think I can do Hermione. This isn’t my house. I can’t let you live here.”

“I know. I just had to see you…” Hermione trailed off. She didn’t know what to say. After a few awkward moments, Harry backed away.

“Wait here.”

He ran upstairs and came back down a few moments later with a pillow and a heavy blanket. He handed these items to her, along with a key.

“What’s this?”

“Go to the end of the street. Make a right, go two blocks, and you will come to a run down house. This is the key to the back door. Wait inside for me. I’ll be along in a few hours.”

She looked panicked. She didn’t want to leave him here with Vernon Dursley, but she knew she couldn’t stay. And what if he planned to call the police?  He seemed to sense what she was thinking.

“I promise. I’ll be along as soon as I can.”

The sun would be rising soon, and she had to have some place to hide. She figured it was best she left now, before someone spotted her.  Finally she nodded and scooped up her bag.

“Don’t forget about me.”

“I won’t,” he said softly.

“Thank you Harry. I mean it.”

“Yeah,” he said grinning. “I think you do.”

~~~~~

Hermione arrived in the dank, smelly house and shut the door behind her. She didn’t think anyone had spotted her. The last thing she needed was to be seen, lest the police get a lead on her and come to take her to a hospital. She studied the room. It was empty. There was nothing extraordinary about the place. There was a fireplace and a few books and magazines in a corner. It seemed as if someone came here frequently enough to need something to pass the time. She assumed it was Harry

Tired from her long journey, Hermione spread the thick blanket on the dusty wooden floor and curled up. She was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

~~~~~

Harry studied Hermione’s sleeping countenance. She looked so peaceful. He hoped her dreams, whatever they were about, were pleasant ones. He heard the door open and saw Professor Snape enter levitating a cauldron of steaming liquid. He set it down with a dull thud and Madam Pomfrey came over to examine it.

“A fine potion Severus,” she said with approval.

“Thank you. There is only one ingredient missing.”

Madam Pomfrey heaved a sigh. “The blood of the one she loves most in the world.”

“Actually, it’s the blood of the one who loves her most,” Snape said.

Madam Pomfrey looked surprised. “Oh dear, I’m sorry.  I suppose that’s the reason you’re the potions master and not me,” she said, winking at him. She looked over at Harry. “Do you have any idea who that may be?”

Harry shrugged. He knew he loved her a great deal, but if they were talking about romantic love, then Ron would be their best bet…he supposed. “Ron, most likely.”

“This must brew a few more hours,” Snape said. He looked tired. “We will notify Mr. Weasley to come up in the morning. Until then, I will retire. Good evening, Madam Pomfrey.”

She bowed her head. “Severus. Harry, I think you should get some sleep as well. Off to your room.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m not leaving her. She needs me.”

Madam Pomfrey sighed. She looked ready to argue the point, but something in his eyes melted her resolve. She nodded. “Very well then.  You should lie down at least, in one of the other beds. Good-night Harry.”

“Good-night.”

Harry waited until Madam Pomfrey was gone, and then he slid out of the bed and sat next to Hermione. He took her hand in his and caressed the soft skin, remembering how he’d sat by her bed four years before, after she’d been petrified by the basilisk Tom Riddle had set free on the school.

Back then there had been a guarantee that Hermione would be alright. Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey had a cure for the students who’d been petrified. Back then, he’d had a sword to deal with Riddle and the basilisk. This time, though, there was no guarantee, and a sword would be useless in the fight against the invisible foe that had taken over Hermione’s mind.  All he had now was hope, and it was a fragile sliver at best.

He’d have to rely on others to save Hermione, while he stood to the side and did nothing. It was the hardest thing in the world for him to do. He didn’t want to watch her waste away into nothing and then die. That idea terrified him more than anything he’d ever faced before. The idea that he could lose Hermione, after sharing so many years of loving friendship with her, was almost unbearable. He felt so frustrated, so scared, so powerless…

Another difficult thing about Hermione’s current condition was that he would have to trust others to save her. Sure, Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey were skilled at what they did, but they were also human. They could make a mistake that could cost Hermione her life. What if they’d waited to long to start the potion? What if they got one ingredient wrong, missed one step in the healing process and it spelled the end for Hermione?

“I have every confidence that she’ll pull through this.”

Harry looked up and found Dumbledore watching him. His aged face looked tired, and the lines of his face seemed deeper, if that were even possible.

“I wish there was something I could do,” Harry said. “I hate this waiting!”

Dumbledore nodded and came to stand beside Harry. He gazed lovingly down at Hermione’s peaceful face. “I’ve never cared for waiting either. It’s one of the hardest things in the world to do, when someone you love is in danger.”

There was a flash of red light and the sound of a grunt. Harry and Dumbledore went over to the window and saw tiny Professor Flitwick casting charms on the still headless ramscorde, which was struggling with all its might against Hagrid, who’d placed chains around its neck and was struggling to pull it toward his hut. With each tug of the chain, Hagrid gave a great grunt of effort. Finally they got the creature chained to a metal stake in the ground. Even from this distance Harry could see the loathing in Hagrid’s face, which was very unusual for the gentle giant. He normally loved dangerous creatures. Harry mused that he hated this one because of what it had done to Hermione.

“What is that thing? I know its name, but what is it?” Harry asked quietly.

“The ramscorde,” Dumbledore said, studying the creature as it struggled uselessly against its bonds. Professor Flitwick cast another charm and it slumped over, seemingly dead. “It’s a mixed breed between a dementor, a vampire, and a ram. They were created by Voldemort, over forty years ago.”

“Voldemort. It figures he’d have a hand in this. Is it dead?”

“No, but it soon will be. Professor Flitwick has only another charm and then it will die. It will take it a long time, but it will never rise again.”

They watched as the little professor flicked his wand with expert confidence. Finally, a pretty sprinkle of golden dust sprayed forth from the tip of the wand and settled over the ramscorde. It formed what looked like a cocoon over the creature. Flitwick put his wand away, waved to Hagrid, and started back toward the castle. Hagrid gave the thing a kick and then went into his hut. A few moments later, the lights went out. Harry sighed.

“Why would he create such a thing?”

“They were to be his foot soldiers when he attacked the Muggle world.”

Harry tried to imagine Muggles going to war against an army of ramscordes. It would have been ugly. The Muggles would have no idea what to do with creatures they couldn’t kill with guns or grenades.

“How did something like this get onto school grounds?”

Dumbledore sighed and sat down in a chair next to Hermione’s bed. Sensing a long explanation was at hand, Harry sat down on the sill and crossed his arms.

“The ramscorde is a creature of stealth, Harry. They can become invisible at will. Since they cannot affect the world around them while invisible, they appear only when they’re ready to attack. They’re very obedient to any human who manages to tame them.”

“They can be tamed?” Harry said, surprised by this news. The ramscorde didn’t seem like a creature that would bow to any man, except maybe Voldemort.

“Oh yes, but it takes a great deal of dark magic to do so. They will kill only who they’re told to kill.”

“That explains why it didn’t kill me when I tried to fight it.” Harry remembered how the ramscorde had repeatedly ignored him to go after Hermione. “Why Hermione? Who could she possibly have angered enough to have a ramscorde set on her?”

“I’m sorry Harry, but I do not know. The Order has no information pertaining to Hermione as being a target of Lord Voldemort. I’m as mystified as you are. You said Hermione had told you she’d felt like she were being followed all that day? Chances are she had been, by the ramscorde.”

“Why didn’t it attack before?”

“Ramscordes are creatures of instinct, Harry. Granted, they’re not as intelligent as humans, but they’re very cunning. They have a will to survive, and the one sent to attack Hermione knew it would be foolish to attack her in a school full of wizards. It waited until she was alone, or until there was little threat of encountering a wizard who would be knowledgeable of how to kill it. You were to study the ramscorde later this year, in preparation for your N.E.W.T.S.”

“It looks like I got an early lesson.”

Suddenly an idea occurred to Harry that chilled him to his soul. “Could there be more of them in the school?”

“Professor McGonagall has called several members of the Order in. There are spells to force a ramscorde to reveal its presence. They’re searching every room in the castle. If there are more, they will find them, and deal with them accordingly.”

“How many did Voldemort create?”

“Ten males, twenty females. They birth up to twelve infants at a time, and over the past 43 years, they’ve bred quite a bit. They prefer to live in forests and swamp areas.  The females are relatively harmless. They’re actually quite friendly until you threaten her young. It’s the adult males that pose the real threat. They’re combative and thrive on the hunt and the kill. Like the dementor, they feed on the soul.  Like the vampire, they feed on the blood. They also have a taste for flesh, which makes them the ultimate killing machines. They obliterate their enemies, completely.”

“Will the patronus charm work against them?”

Dumbledore shook his head. “The ramscorde has an innate fear of the patronus, but it quickly overcomes that fear the longer it is exposed to it. A patronus would buy you a few minutes time to run, at best. The only way to kill the ramscorde is to behead it. Once that’s done, there are four ancient and complicated charms that must be placed on the creature immediately, for it begins to grow a new head as soon as it’s been decapitated. Once the charms are in place, and the body remains headless for three days, the body dies.”

The doors to the hospital wing flew open just then, and McGonagall came in. She carried a small body in her arms, and had a cut above her right eye. Harry was horrified to see the small body in her arms was Dobby.

“Dobby! Is he…”

“He’s hurt, not dead,” McGonagall said. She laid him down on a bed next to Hermione. When she looked back at Dumbledore, Harry could see the fear in her face.

“Minerva, what’s the matter?”

“We found a nest of them feeding on the house elves in the kitchen,” McGonagall said.

“Feeding?” Harry looked at Dobby. “They…took his soul?”

“No, they were eating the house elves Harry,” McGonagall said. “They’d killed thirty five of them before we found them.”

“How many were there?”

McGonagall went pale. “Thirty adult males. They escaped into the corridors, headless. The others have chased after them, and we’ve put locking charms on all the dormitories. The children are safe for now.”

Harry felt his stomach clench painfully tight. Thirty adult male ramscordes were running loose in the school. It was a nightmare. He looked at Hermione. What if they did to the other students what the dying one tied in front of Hagrid’s hut had done to Hermione?

“That’s not all,” McGonagall said.

How much worse could it get? Harry wondered. He felt his knees weaken, however, when McGonagall delivered the news. “The castle grounds have been surrounded.”

Harry and Dumbledore went to the window. Indeed, in the distance they could see what looked like thousands of eyes, glowing yellowish green in the night. But there were other things as well, moving amongst the ramscordes.

“How many are out there?” Harry asked weakly.

McGonagall sighed. “Over two thousand ramscordes. That number doesn’t include the vampires, dementors and Death Eaters who have come with them.”

Harry looked at Dumbledore, who, for the first time since Harry could remember, looked deeply afraid.

“Sound the alarms.  Call the Ministry for assistance and lock this castle down,” Dumbledore ordered. “Hogwarts is under attack.”