The Pale Rider

Chapter Thirteen:

People who get nostalgic about childhood were obviously never children. Bill Watterson

Harry walked back into his room around dawn break. He did not feel tired, but knew he should rest. If but only for an hour. Upon entering the room, he found something he hand not expected.

Hermione lay on the cot, a blanket over her not doing much to keep her warm. He shook his head as he moved the blanket over her, causing her to curl up further into a ball. He gave a soft smile at the content look on her face as he brushed out a piece of hair. He almost forgot about lying to her and sneaking out to check the wards. She would understand in time how much Dumbledore did and, by proxy, he would be doing.

The routine check was successful; there were not problems to fix at the moment and nothing that would cause immediate distress if there was an attack. His desk reappeared as he had timed it. The door would remain locked to all but him until the morning. The return of his desk meant that it would be opened to those that knew the password. With a small sigh, he looked at a clock upon the wall before moving back to his desk.

He had records of what had occurred over the past few years. He was not surprised at the amount of people hiding or fleeing to another country. The war was still regulated in England and it had yet to flood into the rest of the world. It was only a matter of time, and already, he realized that the inevitable was coming. The war was about to fall out into the rest of the world, and there was little to do about stopping it. With a sigh, he let the papers fall to the desk, shaking his head. “Hell cometh.” He spoke softly.

“Hmmm?” Harry turned in the chair to look at her. She stretched easily in the cot, the blanket pillowing up at her waist. She wore what looked like a dress shirt from his closet. He had managed to save some things, some suits from his years on call as well as many of his books. “I'm glad to see you're back.” She said, standing up from the bed. She took the blanket with her as she stood. Harry had to admit, he was both cursing and blessing the blanket as it hide her from him.

“Yeah, I couldn't sleep,”

“Liar,” Hermione said. She stood up from the bed and walked over to him. Harry could not help but stare at her legs for a moment before forcing his eyes to meet hers. “You left here almost immediately after you sent me to bed.”

“Well, I couldn't sleep,” Harry said, turning back to his desk and the papers on it.

“So was it a success? Was it worth not sleeping?” Hermione asked. He gave her a smile over his shoulder.

“Yes, I believe it was,” Harry said. He stood and turned around to face her. “No, I'm going to shower and change, while you look through those papers on my desk.”

“Why should I?” She glared at him as he told her what to do again.

“I'm telling you to because those papers may help you get an idea how bad it is out there,” Harry said. “Look, I'm sorry if I seem like I'm pushing you in one direction, or I'm ordering you around, but you have to look at it from my point of view. I know things right now that you don't, how is that any different then in our first years here. You knew more than I did, and I didn't like you telling me what to do, but I went along with it, because you were right.” Hermione slumped her shoulders.

“So our roles are reversed then?” Hermione said, looking at the papers.

“Hermione, for starters, there is only so much that I know about magic, it's the stuff that isn't magic that I'm going to teach you.” Harry said, turning toward the bathroom. He stopped at the doorway and looked back at her for a moment. “I have no doubt that you would find the books on magic more interesting that I would any day. There are things that you know and you have a way at looking at them that I can, or could ever learn Hermione. It doesn't mean I'm stupid or anything, my intelligence is just centered on a different area than yours.” He left her to the notes on his desk, heading off to shower and relax a bit.

He changed into a pair of blue jeans and polo shirt, knowing he was going to look out of place. He really did not care at the moment. He needed to relax and those damn wizards robes did nothing to help him relax. “It's all yours,” Harry said, exiting his room. He saw Hermione had been pouring over a series of books on his desk, mainly about the totem training. He shook his head and was about to tell her off for looking at those, she left the room quickly with a quick thanks. He watched as she left for the bathroom, surprise at the grace in her movements. With a shake of his head, he turned back to the books up his desk, determined to figure out what she was reading about.

A half an hour later, and he was only a few steps closer to what she was reading about. He figured it would have been helpful if he had actually read the books when he bought them, but found they were better for holding up the end of his table back in his old flat. Hence the small indents in one of the books.

“Spying on me,” Hermione asked, coming up behind him.

“Not at all,” Harry said, flipping the pages of a book. “I'm trying to figure out for the life of me, why you're going to try something that could get you killed. That nearly killed me and a score of people?” He turned and looked at her, a sigh upon his lips. “I'm not telling you this because I don't think you can do it, but rather I'm not going to teach you how because it could very will take you from me, and I'm not about to let that happen again.” He stood up from the desk and tossed the book back onto the table. “If you still wish to study it, fine, just….” He let his voice trail off as he stared at the desk. He looked up at her before walking away, not wanting to dwell on the thoughts. He was barely down the steps when he felt her fall into step behind her.

“I'm sorry,” she said as he continued to walk.

“For what?”

“For betraying your trust like that.”

“In what way, I told you I would not teach how to become one with your totem,” Harry said, looking over his shoulder. He stopped at the dejected look upon her face. “Look, you found the books on your own, and you're doing the research on your own. I am in no way going to help you with this Hermione, there is too much I think at risk for you to try this.”

“But you went through it,” Hermione countered. She knew it was a weak argument but it was the only one she had at the moment.

“Yes, I did, and I regret it,” Harry said, looking at her. “It almost cost me everything that has ever mattered to me to get there, Hermione, and I don't want you to loss what you love.” He stared at her for a moment before turning; “I lost more than years off my life, Hermione.” He put his hand into his pockets as he headed toward the Great Hall. Staring at the doors for a moment, he shook his head as he passed them by, heading toward the dungeons. There were more than years, people and friends he had made during his time away. A daughter he had loved… He shook his head as he walked the halls of the dungeon.

In more than one moment as he checked here the previous night, he felt an anger course through him as it did now. He come to the old potions room; it had been turned into a bedroom of sorts, yet he failed to call it even worthy of that name. That would change soon enough.

He entered the room, nary a sound from the door closing to the ones sleeping upon the floor in the room. He shook his head, angered at the men who would allow this, but even more the friends of his that allowed this. His eyes caught the movement of one small child, a young girl no more than three. He made his way silently over to her as she raised her head to look at him.

“Grandpa?” She asked in a small voice. Harry looked at her for a few moments. He features held a face of innocence. Brown hair cradled the face with wide ocean eyes. In less than a moment, Harry felt the tears rise in his eyes. He could not explain how, he had thought she had died, that they all had died That night he had never cried so much in his life. “Grandpa, why are you here?”

“I'm here to see you,” he said, sitting down with his legs crossed. The little girl sat up and Harry took her into his arms, holding her close to his chest. Something deep inside of him broke as he held her, knowing that his daughter was gone. That was why she was here now. “How are you Grace?”

“Okay, glad you're here now,” she said. Her voice grew soft and her breathing smooth as she fell back asleep in his arms. He sat there for a long time, just holding her, wondering how he could have managed to raise a daughter so well to give him this wonderful grandchild. His mind fell upon the memories he had long buried.

It was only a year or so after he had been graduated from Oxford with his medical degree, and already he had found a successful job in the States. He straightened his tie as he looked over the desk. It had been a slow night, and he was one of the few surgeons on call for the ER, not that it was his specialty. He had studied diagnostic medicine as well as pediatric medicine to be what he wished. As of know, he preferred pediatric medicine.

He could not remember the words out of his mouth as he watched them bring her in, nor could he remember his actions, other than it saved her life. His heart tore in two, as he worked on the little girl, no more than ten, who had been hurt in a car accident. The accident had killed her parents, dead at the scene and at the time he was doing his best to save her. Angela

He did.

He saved her in more ways than either of them thought possible. It was Dr James Harry Evans that brought her out of her depression, Dr. James Harry Evans that got her to eat again, to laugh again. But he knew the truth. She was the one that had saved him. An angel sent to this angel.

He fought for her when Child Services came and tried to put her into a foster home. No matter what they did, he was able to counter it and finally was able to adopt her. The years that followed where turbulently filled with teenage angst and him attempting to gain Angela's trust. The first year was difficult, since his apartment was not ideally set up for a child, but with a bit of magical help, he was able to set things right before Child Services came. He would later change it by hand when Angela did not care for the paint color, only to find out she found his bed much more comfortable, forcing him to move it into her room. He didn't grumble too much though.

It wasn't until Angela had graduated college did Harry feel the need to leave again. His bond with his daughter, there was no other way to describe how he felt about Angela, was a strong as ever and it seemed like as good of a time as any. It was difficult to leave her like he did, but he mailed her over the weeks, always telling her where he was, and her telling him how her job at the hospital was. She was learning how to be a doctor as well. It was right after he went to the monastery that he had gotten an invitation to her wedding. He had never felt the power of his tears before then, but at that moment he could not express his happiness in any other way.

The wedding was marvelous and he felt like he was apart of the family again. He was after all the traveling medicine to the husband, Michael Ryder, and his family. Yet to his daughter he had always somehow been there for here, even when he had his hiatus in the monastery. He left only once more, for less than a year. It was the year he had spent with her while his other self, his current self was traveling round Europe. He met his grandchild, Grace for the first time then, and he could have the family he had always wanted. He left once again, for the last time he assured them for Hogwarts a year to the day when he disappeared first from them. He headed there and on the fourth week, experienced the loss of his only family that he had ever known. They were taken in one of the first attacks upon Muggle London.

Now, he sat here with a reminder of how he failed his daughter, her husband, and his granddaughter. He had promised that he would protect them from anything and everything. He did not think that they would be attacked, nor would they be killed. His guilt nearly crushed him then, and it was still crushing him now.

He sat there for little over an hour, when one of the “adults” came into wake the children. The look on the woman's face was priceless as she found them all around Harry as he was telling them a story off the top of his head. He had never gotten the chance to tell Grace any stories or Angela any, but now, it seemed he could share a bit of his imagination with them.

“What are you doing?” she managed to ask.

“Well, I was planning on going to breakfast with my friends here,” Harry said, standing up. He felt someone tugging on his pant leg and looked down to see Grace there. With expertise, he lifted her off the ground. There were some grumbles from the other kids, but the thought of food got the better of them. With a rush of energy, they took off for the Great Hall, the woman running behind them. He looked around the room, making sure all of the children had left, only to find that there were a few stragglers.

“You ready?” He asked them. They all looked at him in awe, apparently knowing who he was.

“Are you him?” One asked. Harry arched his eyebrow.

“Who?” He asked, still standing up. He felt odd for standing over the children, but the confusion left him without regard at the moment.

“Him, the boy-who-lived,” a little girl said.

“Well, I don't know him, but my name is Harry, and if you want to have breakfast with me, follow me,” Harry said with a smile. “I think they're serving pancakes, and its been a while since I've had them.” With that the children began to follow him, the awe of his presence wearing off. He felt a giddiness in him, that made him realize that he was still young, younger than he had ever been before in his life. Now all he needed was a way to figure out how to get everyone else to see he was still young.