Chapter 5
Several hours passed before Harry and Hermione emerged from the pensieve. To say that Harry was in a foul mood would have been an understatement.
"Well THAT was a colossal waste of time!" Harry snapped.
"Calm down Harry," Hermione placed a hand on Harry's arm. "We did learn one thing of importance."
Harry sniggered nastily, "Yeah, only the person whose memories are in the pensieve has access to all of them."
"Well, at least now we know that, and can search elsewhere for the book."
"I don't want to search elsewhere! I wanted to find the damn thing and get it over with!"
Hermione watched him pace back and forth, one eyebrow arched in annoyance.
"Harry, stop it! This is no time to throw a tantrum!"
Harry closed his eyes, took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "I'm sorry. I'm just a tad disappointed."
"I understand," Hermione said softly, and wrapped her arms around his waist. "You've been at this for so long. I can see where you'd jump at the chance to end it quickly. You pinned all your hopes on the pensieve, and it's fallen through."
"Yeah, and it really irritates me, because I should have known better!"
"Harry, there was no way for you to foresee this."
"Sure there was, but it would have involved me removing my head from my ass."
"Harry, you're being far too hard on yourself."
"I'm going to bed," Harry said shortly.
"Harry, we have to talk about this! You can't let it get you down!" Hermione insisted.
"I'm fine. I just need a good night's sleep, and I'll deal with everything tomorrow."
"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, worry evident in her voice.
"Yeah, don't worry about me," He reassured here. "You go on to bed too. I'll see you in the morning."
"Okay," she said hesitantly.
Harry grinned, "I mean it. I'm fine, go get some sleep."
"Okay, night," Hermione smiled, gave him a quick peck on the lips and left the room.
Harry watched her walk away, and then closed the door, shaking his head. He yanked off his shirt and flopped on the bed. He rested his head on his folded arms and closed his eyes. His mind wondered over several topics before succumbing to blissful sleep.
It was a large room, dimly lit by five candles arranged in a pentagram. Two men knelt in the center of the candles, their heads bowed before a shrouded figure. The larger man lifted his head and spoke.
"Master, why have you summoned us?"
The shrouded figure turned its back on the men and faced into the darkest corner of the room. An intense green light shone from the hood onto the wall. Words formed but were unreadable to Harry's dreaming mind, and the men looked at one another, for the words to them were crystal clear.
"Master, you must be patient. These things cannot be rushed or complications could arise."
The voice that came from the figure was icy cold and grating, like fingernails on a chalkboard, and the two men winced.
"Patience I have, Lucius, it is a body that I lack."
"Of course, Master. We are preparing the potion which will return your full power upon your birth, but…"
"I am aware of the difficulties you face, Lucius." The figure turned to the smaller man. "However, YOU, Draco begin to try my patience. What is causing the delay?"
Draco looked up, "Master, the girl wishes to wait till we are married."
"I know that, Draco. Why hasn't the ceremony been performed already?"
Draco quailed under the faceless gaze of his master. "I am sorry Master…I…I…I have been reluctant to tell the girl's parents because then I would be forced to lower myself in order to associate with them on a social level."
Lucius muttered something under his breath and the dark figure's glowing countenance fell on Draco with the force of an anvil.
"You place your petty concerns above ME?" The figure's voice had lowered until it was barely audible.
Draco turned as white as his hair. "Of course not, Master! I…I…I merely meant to say that…"
"SILENCE!"
Lucius and Draco both jumped back but found themselves floating closer to the dark figure. "I have given you time enough," the dark figure stared at Draco, then turned to the elder Malfoy. "Lucius, you will insure that I do not have to reprimand this boy again." The dark one turned back to Draco. "If I do, the consequences will be…severe." A slender hand reached out and caressed Draco's cheek for a moment, before digging the thumbnail cruelly into the nerve cluster around the cheekbone, and making the young man scream in pain. "I trust I've made myself clear."
Draco held himself absolutely still, waiting for the dark figure to release him. He nodded slowly, unable to speak.
"Yes, Master," Lucius said.
"Good. You please me, Lucius. If your son cannot accomplish the task I set for him, you will provide me with life in his stead."
"But, Master!" Draco cried. "The girl is mine!"
"You forget yourself, Draco," the dark one's voice held a note of amusement. "You shall have the girl, but if you fail…"
"I shall not fail you, Master."
The dark one stepped back into the shadows, knelt down, then the cloak fell forward to the floor. Draco stood up and went to the cloak. He knelt down and took the hood in his hand. He lifted it, and looked at what was on the floor."
Harry awoke with a start, his sheets soaked with sweat. He pushed wet hair out of his eyes and sat up. That had been a weird dream, and yet it had seemed impossibly real. This was the fifth time in a row that it had happened. Five times since he and Hermione had returned from their fruitless search in Dumbledore's pensieve. He got out of bed and stretched his back. He did not like thinking about what he had heard and seen, and even as he thought about it, the specific details were becoming hard to recall, just as they always did. He lay back down and tried to get comfortable again. He concentrated on the dream, but the images would not come, not that he really expected this time to be any different. Giving up, Harry rolled over on his stomach, punched his pillow a few times then buried his head in his arms. He lay there for several minutes, trying to fall back to sleep, but sleep was not to be found. He considered whipping up a sleeping draught, but did not like relying on magic to solve all his problems the way most magic folk did. He may have been born a wizard, but he had been raised as a Muggle, and even though he had suffered during his childhood, he found himself thanking God that he had had that time in which to grow tough. He smiled when he thought about how horrified the Dursleys would be to know that he appreciated the way they had treated him. He finally fell asleep with that happy thought in his head.
Harry woke up the next day a few minutes before noon. He sat up and stared at the clock, shocked that he had slept so late. He climbed out of bed and headed for the shower. He came out several minutes later, towelling his hair dry. He tossed the damp towels on the floor and got dressed. He grabbed a short length of leather off the dresser and tied his still damp hair back in a ponytail. It occurred to him that he had not heard anything out of Hermione, so he made his way to her room. He knocked lightly on the door, but she did not answer.
"Hermione are you in there?" Harry called softly. He opened the door and peeked in.
Hermione was sprawled across the bed on her stomach. She had one leg curled up sticking out from under the covers, and her arms were wrapped around the spare pillow. She moaned and mumbled in her sleep, muttering 'Harry' a few times before burying her face into the pillow in her arms, and becoming silent. Harry stood there watching her for a moment, contemplating whether to wake her or not. He finally decided to just let her sleep, and left the room.
Harry went into the kitchen, and started coffee. It was a habit he had acquired in America and he found the taste more to his liking than the usual British tea. He fixed himself a cup, and set about preparing breakfast. He scrambled eggs, made toast, and fried sausage. He fixed a second cup of coffee, placed everything on a tray, covered it with a napkin and carried it to Hermione's room. He opened the door with a wave of his finger, and went inside. He stood a safe distance away from the bed, and called Hermione's name loudly.
Hermione sat up quickly, one hand streaking for her wand and the other yanking the covers up to her chin, she stared up at him.
"Harry! What are you doing in here?"
Harry indicated the covered tray in his arms with a nod of his head. "I made breakfast," he said, smiling.
"You did? You're so sweet!" Hermione smoothed the covers and Harry set the tray in front of her and seated himself on the edge of the bed.
"I hope you like it," Harry said a trifle nervously. "I haven't done this in quite a while and could be a tad rusty."
Harry watched as Hermione gave the eggs on her fork an apprehensive glance, swallowed audibly, and then stuck them in her mouth, chewing carefully. He hoped that everything was up to par. At one time, he had been very good in the kitchen, but years of living at Hogwarts and then running around the world with Sirius had been detrimental to his culinary skills.
"How is it?" he asked.
"They're very good, Harry," Hermione gave him an impish grin. "Maybe you should do this every morning."
"Is that a proposal?" Harry asked smiling and sipping his coffee.
Hermione dropped her fork, and turned bright red. "I…I…I didn't mean it like that!"
Harry smiled softly. "I know."
Hermione slapped him on the arm. "Don't tease me, Harry. You know I hate to be teased."
"I'm sorry," Harry said, and pushed a piece of toast toward her. "You better eat everything on your plate, or you'll hurt my feelings," he said pouting.
"I wouldn't want to do that," said Hermione. She used her fork to cut one of the sausages. "Bite?" she asked.
"Thanks." He took the proffered piece of sausage and chewed thoughtfully. His mind wandered back to his half remembered dream. The specifics eluded him, but he was vaguely aware that it had something to do with the Malfoys. He was attempting to recall what had happened when Hermione broke into his thoughts.
"All done," said Hermione holding up her empty plate and smiling. "It was delicious."
Harry took the dishes and set them on the tray. "I'll run these to the kitchen, you get dressed so we can study on what to do about that blasted book."
Hermione slid out of bed, turned her back to him and pulled her night gown over her head. She looked back over her shoulder, smiled, and playfully tossed the silky garment onto his head.
Harry gathered the material in his hands, and inhaled her scent, burying his face into the softness. Opening his eyes, he laid the gown on the bed, gathered the tray and left the room. He dropped the dishes and tray off at the kitchen, grabbed a soda from the fridge and went to his study. He sat down behind his desk, laced his fingers behind his head, and propped up his feet. Harry turned his thoughts towards their wasted foray into Dumbledore's memories. He had been sure that the answer to their problem laid somewhere in Dumbledore's pensieve, but they had come up empty. He grabbed his bottle of soda off the desk, opened it and took a swig.
Harry stared at the liquid in the bottle, his mind racing, trying desperately to come up with some way to find the
missing book. Their library search had been fruitless, and the pensieve a bust. He was running out of ideas, and it was
starting to get to him. His hand tightened on the bottle, and he heard the glass creak under the pressure. He set it
back down to keep from accidentally shattering it, and got up to pace. He had made three circuits by the time Hermione
entered the room.
"I got nothing," Harry said, before Hermione had the chance to speak. "Can you think of any spell, charm
or incantation that might help us?"
Hermione took a seat next to his desk, leaned back and chewed her bottom lip in thought. "There are locator spells, but you have to know specifically what you're looking for, a general idea or vague description won't work, plus you have to know where you last had it."
"That sucks. Maybe if we modified a locator spell, and I boosted it?"
Hermione shook her head, "Nuh-uh, it doesn't work that way, Harry."
Harry resumed pacing, one wild idea after another flitting through his head. He thought about everything they had tried, and some of the things they had not. His mind kept returning to one in particular. He was hesitant to speak it aloud, but he needed another point of view before making a decision. "Hermione," he said, strolling over to his desk and taking a drink from his soda. "What about Dumbledore?"
"What about him?"
"Could we…I don't know, maybe temporarily heal him?"
"How, we searched high and low for any spell that could reverse the effects, and so far we've come up empty."
"Not a spell Hermione, I mean boosting his immune system or increasing his power enough that it pushes the curse back far enough for a simple healing spell to bring back his hearing."
"I don't think so, Harry, that curse is very, very powerful."
"So am I."
"I know that, Harry, but are you powerful enough to repair all the damage, or just enough to make him coherent? If you can only heal him a little bit then he'll have to go through all that pain again."
"I know that!" Harry started pacing again, his thoughts coming together. He spoke to himself as he paced; completely forgetting Hermione was there. "I can transfer enough power to bring him around, and heal his deafness, and then I can alter the spell and use it to hold the curse off long enough to get the information, and then I can turn it into a numbing charm, that way he won't feel the pain as the curse takes effect again."
Hermione jumped up alarmed. "Harry you can't! If you give him that much of your power, you'll drain yourself!"
Harry shook his head. "It can't be helped, Pumpkin."
"Please reconsider this, Harry."
"I have."
"No. I can't let you."
"You can't stop me either."
"I know…Harry, just give me a second to explain." Hermione thought a moment, and then looked into his eyes. "There's no way I'm letting you take this on alone, Harry," she stated firmly. "I'll get the information from him, and you deal with the curse."
Harry brightened. "That makes it loads easier on me, I'll only have to channel enough energy into him to revive him, and then hold the curse off long enough for you to heal his hearing, and ask the question." He looked sideways at Hermione. "If you hurry, it should only cost me as much power as it takes to levitate this house."
Hermione looked unconvinced. "That's still a lot of power to transfer."
Harry nodded, "Yeah, it's a lot, but I can do it. I know I can." He took Hermione hand and looked into her eyes. "It's a risky proposition, but it's all we have. We're out of options."
"Can you give me a few more days to think of something?" Hermione asked softly. "If I can't come up with anything, then we try your idea."
Harry xgrinnedx raised an eyebrow, "How many is 'a few'?"
"Give me a week, two at the most, I'll figure something out, I promise," her voice was full of determination.
"So you want me to leave this all to you for the next week?" she nodded and he sighed, "What am I supposed to do during that time?"
"You train. Practice or whatever it is you do, get stronger, more powerful. Every little bit helps, and the more powerful you are, the more power you'll have as reserve."
"Are you sure?" Harry asked.
"You know me, Harry. I work so much better under pressure." Hermione snorted sarcastically.
"Alright," said Harry, still not fully convinced. "I'll be in the gym if you need me."
Hermione looked perplexed. "Gym?" she asked. "I didn't know you had a gym. Where is it?"
"There are two entrances, one in the back of my closet, and one off the hall closet." Hermione raised an eyebrow but did not say anything. Harry continued, "It's fully equipped with all the most modern machines and gadgets, as well as a complete arsenal of weapons, everything from throwing knives to submachine guns."
"Planning a war?"
Harry shrugged, "Nah, but I'm prepared in case one breaks out again," he said, his good mood fading quickly.
Hermione's eyes widened in alarm, "D'you really think it will come to that?"
"I dunno," Harry said grimly, "but if it does, I intend to take the fight to him rather than wait around for him to use my friends against me."
"Harry, you don't still blame yourself for what happened to us in 5th year, do you?"
"Of course I do!" Harry snapped. "I almost lost Sirius for good! If it hadn't been for my 'heroic tendencies,'" his voice grew bitter, and Hermione winced behind him "we would never have gone to the Department of Mysteries, we wouldn't have been captured, and the Order wouldn't have had to come to our rescue and Sirius wouldn't have fallen through The Veil!"
"Stop it!" Hermione grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, "Harry! You saved him though! You went in and got him, you didn't let a little thing like dying stop you either, you crossed over and you brought him back to us."
"I know, but when I think about how easily it could have been for real, or if someone else had died- Ron, Ginny, Luna, Neville, Tonks or-" Harry's voice grew husky, "you." He pinned her with his gaze, "As bad as I felt when I thought I'd lost Sirius, I know that losing you would have been the end of me."
"You didn't make us go, Harry. We chose to follow you." Hermione's voice was soft, and she drew him into her embrace, pulling his head down to rest on her shoulder. "I told you a long time ago that you mustn't dwell on your mistakes," she whispered. "You must move on."
"How can I?" asked Harry miserably. "I almost lost those that were nearest and dearest to me."
"That's the consequence of war," said Hermione sagely, "there are always casualties."
Harry's heart thumped heavily as he thought of all those lost in the battles leading up to his final showdown with Voldemort, and all those who would be in danger if the Dark Lord rose again. He knew that Voldemort was much more aware of whom Harry cared for, and they would be first on his hit list when he regained his powers. He pulled back and stared deep into Hermione's eyes, "When did you become so x wise x sage?" he asked.
Hermione smiled impishly, "I've always been this way, and it's just taken you a small slice of forever to finally realize that it's in your best interests to listen to me."
"Funny," said Harry, his good humor returning in the wake of her playfulness. "That's real funny. I'm pouring my heart out, and you're making jokes."
"Oh, it's no joke, big boy," Hermione's grin got wider. "Have you ever benefited from ignoring my advice?"
"Er…Well- Harry started, but Hermione cut him off.
"That's an awfully deep subject for such a shallow mind."
"Huh?" said Harry, then her meaning hit him, "Oh…Yeah, I guess it is," he laughed, "Lucky for me, I've got a genius for a girlfriend, and she can fish me out when I get in over my head."
"That's my job," said Hermione, her smile fading as she turned and glared at the stacked books behind her. "Now, Harry, I've got loads of work to do, and I'd really like to get started."
"Okay," Harry smiled and kissed her on the lips, "I'll leave you to figure out something, but if you haven't got something for me in one week's time, we go with my idea."
"Fine, fine, now get out of here so I can get to work." Hermione shooed him out the door, and closed it in his face.
Harry stood there staring at the door, "Don't worry about dinner okay? I'll take care of it," he shouted. He thought he heard a muffled, 'Fine!', but was not sure. He walked away, a wide grin on his face.
Harry went to his room and changed into black sweats. Barefoot, he went into his closet, opened a door in the back, and stepped into a fully equipped gym and dojo.
Harry stretched for a good five minutes, and then went to work on the heavy bag. After the fight with Ron, he had realized just how out of practice he was. That wouldn't do at all, Sirius had spent a lot of their time together teaching Harry how to fight, and would be disappointed that the young man had lapsed in his training, and if there was one thing Harry didn't want, it was to disappoint Sirius.
Harry assaulted the bag with a flurry of punches and kicks. Jabs flew so fast they were a blur, uppercuts landed with such force that the bag seemed to leap upward after each one, and kicks left indentations that threatened to rupture the fabric.
"One…two, one…two, right…left, jab…cross, hook…uppercut, knee…elbow, front kick…spinning back fist, roundhouse kick! Again…"
Harry continued to pummel the bag relentlessly, immersing himself in the movements, using the repetitive motions to ease his mind. He stopped only when he developed a painful stitch in his side. Harry leaned over, his hands on his knees, breathing heavily, and sweating profusely. He wiped sweat from his eyes, took a few deep breaths and headed for the weights. He took a few more minutes, letting his breathing even out before getting started.
Harry adjusted the bench - press machine, and got comfortable. He started out with 200 lbs, lifting the weight easily, noticing how much his strength had increased from what it was before removing the Anti - Apparition wards on the house, and nearly draining his power in the process. He lowered the bar to his chest, flicked his finger and the weight increased to 300 lbs. He grabbed the bar again and shoved upwards. This time, he had to strain a little more, and after lifting it ten times, found his arms growing weak. He lowered the bar and sat up, massaging his biceps while trying to decide which machine to hit next. The abdominal crunch machine caught his eye, and he made his way over to it.
Harry plopped down in the chair, adjusted the tension strap and began his reps. He stopped several minutes later, his lungs heaving and his abs screaming, and debated on just how much torture to inflict upon himself. Deciding that he had done enough, he grabbed his towel, wiped down the machine, pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes, and headed for the weapon racks. He took down a quarter staff, "Bo," he reminded himself, calling it by the name it was known by in martial arts, spun it around his head, through his hands and around his back to end up in the ready position. He took a deep breath, and released it in an explosive yell.
"Kiiii--yah!" Harry cried, his Bo spinning around his head to end up with the blunt end stabbing out at an unseen opponent. He used the simple stick as one would use a spear, stabbing and jabbing at where his enemy's eyes and throat would be. He practiced with the Bo for quite a while, losing track of time and coming back to himself when the Bo slipped from his sweaty hands and struck the wall. Harry stared at the fallen weapon and ground his teeth in agitation.
"I should really put an anti - slip charm on those blasted things," Harry muttered.
He bent down, retrieved the staff and replaced it on the rack. He lowered himself to the floor, and assumed the lotus position, his fists resting on his knees. He closed his eyes and sought inner peace. He had learned this technique from a Muggle library book the summer before 6th year. It had helped him deal with his temper and the rages that seemed all too eager to consume him after Sirius' perceived death. Harry shook his head to clear it of such disturbing thoughts, and slowly his breathing evened out and his body relaxed.
Harry was brought out of his meditation by hunger, his growling stomach letting him know clearly that it was time to eat. He stretched, popping his neck, shoulders, knees, and knuckles before standing up. He wondered how Hermione was doing with her research or whatever it was that she was doing, and decided to go check up on her. He headed for the study, yanking his sweaty shirt off and tossing it towards the hamper in the corner as he passed through his room. When he got to the study, he knocked tentatively on the door.
"Hermione?" Harry cracked the door a bit and peeked inside to see what she was doing.
Hermione was sitting at his desk, books stacked all around her, her bag open on a chair she had drug up beside where she was sitting. She had parchment scattered everywhere, and was furiously turning pages in her notebook, she looked up when the door creaked.
"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"Er…I was wondering if you had any particular preference for dinner."
Hermione waved a hand, "Whatever you want is fine with me."
"Are you sure, because I have no idea what I want."
"I'm sure you'll think of something," said Hermione, turning back to her work.
"Okay. I'm going to hit the shower and then I'll head into town and find something."
"Fine, fine, whatever," Hermione looked up again and pushed a wisp of hair out of her eye. "Now, I'm dreadfully busy, so please leave me alone."
"Okay, okay, I'll see you when I get back," Harry raised his fingers to his lips and blew her a kiss. Hermione smiled and returned the gesture, then bent back to her task. Harry turned away and walked quickly to the bathroom.
When Harry came out twenty minutes later, he was surprised to see Hermione standing outside the study door, a very perturbed look on her face.
"What's up?" he asked, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes.
"I found it."
Harry could not believe his ears. "What? What did you just say?"
Hermione threw down her notebook and kicked it across the hall. "I said I found it!"
"What? Where is it?"
"It's been right under our noses the whole time," she smacked herself in the forehead. "How could I have been so stupid?"
"Hermione! Tell me where it is!"
Hermione rolled her eyes, "I can't believe I'm going to say this-
"WHAT?" Harry asked, exasperated.
"-the Room of Requirement," said Hermione, dropping her head into her hands.
"No way," Harry was incredulous.
"Yes, it hit me a few minutes ago, and I sat there trying to tell myself that there is no way that you or I could be so stupid as to not think of that room."
Harry scratched his head in thought, "It is the perfect place to hide something though. I mean there is no way just anyone could stumble across Flamel's books if they're in the Room of Requirement."
"I know." Her voice was full of disgust, "that's why I'm sure they're there."
"So what do you want to do?" asked Harry.
"I'll go to the Room. Oh, and don't worry about finding something in Hogsmeade, I'll bring back something from the Hogwarts' kitchen for dinner," said Hermione.
"Are you sure?" Harry asked, "I could come with you."
"That's okay, Harry, the sooner we get the book, the sooner we can plan our next move." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the lips. "I'll see you when I get back, and maybe after we've made our plans, we could begin making plans for other things." She wriggled her eyebrows
"Vixen," Harry laughed, and swatted her playfully on the rump, "now get out of here before I throw you on the floor and ravish you!"
"Oooh, promises, promises," said Hermione, throwing him a grin, before she disapparated.
Harry shook his head, that girl was something else. He had often reflected on his relationship with Hermione, and how one sided it had been for so long. She had sacrificed and risked a lot to be his friend, even putting his life ahead of their friendship. When it came down to it, she had been there for him when no one else had been, and it embarrassed and infuriated him to realize that it had taken him so long to see her feelings for what they really were.
Hermione returned an hour later to find Harry kicked back in his chair and reading her manuscript for the revised edition of Hogwarts: A History. He dog-eared the page he was on and stood up. Her glowing face let him know immediately that she had been successful.
"Alright! You got it!"
Hermione smiled and held up what had to be the oldest and most decrepit looking book in the known world. Harry could just make out what looked like a line of M's running down the spine.
"It was surprisingly easy to find it, Harry; I'm a tad disappointed to tell you the truth."
"Hermione, don't say that, because we're not outta the woods yet. We still have to find the spell and whatnot," said Harry, taking the book from her and carrying it over to the table. He cleared the table with a wave of his arm and gently lowered the aged volume to the surface. The pages looked so brittle, he was tempted to cast a charm to protect them, but Hermione quickly stopped him.
"Harry, no!"
He looked up, "Why not?"
Hermione flinched, then with a wave of her wand, a smoke surrounded her. When it cleared, Harry saw that her hair had been singed all over, and she looked like she had been struck by lightning. Her face was smudged with scorch marks, and there were burnt patches on her clothes, like she had tried to walk through a fire.
"What the hell happened? Are you alright?" Harry asked, rushing to her side and examining her for injuries.
Hermione winced when he touched a burn on her cheek. "The book is protected, that's how I found it."
Harry didn't say anything else, he just held his hands up, palms out, towards her and, just as he had in the Department of Mysteries in their 5th year, healed her of her injuries. He had not known at the time that that was what he had done, but after talking about it with Sirius, they had come to the conclusion that she would have died if he had not accidentally healed her. He had yet to reveal this to her, and was loathe to do so.
Hermione took a deep breath when he had finished, "Thanks, Harry."
"No problem, Babe," Harry kissed her on the top of her head. "Now, let's get down to business."
Hermione started turning pages, wincing when she read some of the names of the spells. "Ooh, this one sounds like it should be an Unforgivable Curse."
"It would, except it requires the caster to have drunk centaur blood twenty-four hours before casting in order to get the full effect," Harry agreed.
Hermione continued flipping pages, going past several curses used in ancient duels and a few charms that were no longer valid, until finally, three quarters through the book, she turned to a page labelled:
The Panacea
The definitive cure all for any curse or charm, the Panacea has been known to restore life to those mere seconds from death's door. Although this potion can cure anything, not many are willing to take the risks inherent in brewing it. The ingredients needed are rare, and in some cases, extremely hazardous to one's health to gather. It takes a person of great courage, skill, and determination to acquire them. But, if one is brave of heart and foolish of head, the ingredients are listed below.
Ingredients
-Alicorn voluntarily dips horn into brewed potion (Dedication/Protectiveness/Devotedness)
-Beard of a Satyr - 6 inches in length (Vitality)
-Tear of a Nymph (Compassion)
-Seven Lotus flowers (Love)
-Feather of a Phoenix (Loyalty)
-Boiling Blood of a Fire Drake (Nobility)
The items do not have to be gathered in any specific order, however, the Alicorn will not allow magic use in its presence, and as such will only agree to dip its horn after learning to trust the witch or wizard brewing the potion. This has its drawbacks, as the wizard must not use magic of any kind from the moment the Alicorn is contacted nor leave its presence until the potion has been stirred and the Alicorn has gotten safely away, Nor will the Alicorn allow any other person to come around, or it will bolt. The Alicorn Nation is adamant about this, and they demand considerable time in which the wizard must prove he can be trusted. If for some reason the Alicorn called distrusts the wizard, it will leave immediately and no Alicorn will ever again answer the summons. The Nation also demands that only a female virgin perform the summoning charm.
The beard of the satyr will require the wizard to use his brain, for the satyrs measure sexual potency by the length of his beard, and no male will willingly part with his. However, if the wizard is crafty enough, he should be able to trick the satyr into giving it up. The wizard must, and I cannot stress this enough, must be given the beard, he cannot steal it. Satyrs can be found roaming all over Greece.
As any who have travailed these lands know, Nymphs are lovely creatures that are perpetually happy. Getting one to shed a tear will be no small feat. They were once very common all over Briton, Gaul and the Northlands, but now they are mainly found in Eire and Greece.
Seven Lotus flowers symbolize the love the wizard or witch has for the person they wish to cure. Although some would consider the Lotus to be a connotation for sexual or physical love, but that is not always the case, and will work even if the wizard or witch is not sexually attracted to the person they wish to heal. They are found on several Greek isles, and even in some very remote areas of the mainland. I found a large field growing in the shadow of Mt. Olympus, so if one seeks Lotus flowers, I would suggest looking there.
The feather of a Phoenix is relatively easy to acquire, assuming of course that one has access to such a remarkable bird. I am lucky, because my personal pet just happens to be a Phoenix. However, that is not the case for everybody, and in such cases, the majestic bird can be found at the tops of very high peaks. One must be very careful, and highly respectful when dealing with such animals, for if frightened or insulted, they can disappear instantly.
Perhaps the most difficult and dangerous of all the ingredients is the boiling blood of a Fire Drake. Now, do not be deceived, dear reader, for the Fire Drake is just another way of saying Dragon. However, the Fire Dragon is a rare species that inhabit active volcanoes. They swim through the molten rock as if it were water, and when angered they spew superheated gases. It takes great courage, and a weapon not made by man to collect the boiling blood, and know this, the container must be charmed to withstand tremendous heat, or the blood will burn though it in seconds, and once the blood hits air, it cools instantly, and will no longer work.
Once you have these ingredients, boil water in a small cauldron, pick the petals off the Lotus flowers, adding them one at a time, until all are floating on the surface, then add the stems and roots. Sprinkle the satyr's beard over the petals, being careful to only let one hair hit the mixture at a time. Let boil for one hour, and then add the Nymph's tears. Stir the concoction with the Phoenix feather in a clockwise manner until the feather has lost all its color and then drop it in. Take the container of blood from wherever you may have placed it, and set the container in the mixture, making sure that the surface level of the water is higher than any part of the container. Let it simmer for exactly thirty hours, not one second more or less. As the thirtieth hour comes to a close, have the Alicorn break the container with its horn, and then while the blood mixes with the other ingredients, stir with exactly five vertical strokes of the horn. When this is done, let the potion cool for two hours, then administer it to the afflicted using a solid gold goblet.
Harry frowned when Hermione stopped reading, "Not asking very much is he?"
"Harry, at least now we know what we have to do, and that makes this so much easier."
"I know, I know," Harry ran his hands through his hair. "Where do we start?"
"I was thinking that the easiest should be gotten first, and that means the Lotus flowers, and while we're in Greece, we can try to get the Nymph's tears and the satyr's beard. Kill three birds with one stone."
"You forgot the Alicorn," Harry reminded her. "It has to be summoned and given enough time to learn to trust us."
"I know that, Harry, but we have to figure out a few things before we summon the Alicorn. First, we have to get to Greece, second, we have to find both the creatures and the flowers, and third, we have to do both of those things after we summon the Alicorn, so we'll need a way to get around, as well as having made preparations for our safety and well being."
Harry frowned; this was more than slightly confusing. "Okay, I think I understand what you're trying to say. We have to make plans for how we're going to take care of things without magic, before we get in the situation," he said, and she nodded.
"Well, let's look at what we won't be able to do," said Harry, raising a hand. "We won't be able to travel, except by foot, we won't be able to defend ourselves, except with weapons of some sort, or in lieu of that, our fists and feet, and we won't be able to communicate, except by owl, and that's if the Alicorn will allow it," he said, ticking each one off on his fingers.
"Right," Hermione smiled, "and I have an idea about part of it."
"Yeah, which part?"
"We'll have to go to my parents' house, because even though you sent them a note, and I told them I would be here, they really need to be informed about this little trip we're going to take."
"Okay," said Harry. "I say we grab our bags and hit the road as soon as possible."
"I was thinking the same thing, but Harry, don't you think we should just Apparate there?"
Harry shook his head, "Nah, I've been cooped up for so long in this place, the travelling will do me good."
"Well then, how do you intend to get there? Because last time I checked, you don't have a car, and I don't have a broom," she said. "Although, I suppose I could turn something into a portkey-
"No, I have a better idea," said Harry. "Let's take my bike, we'll make a road trip of it."
"Bike? Harry, you don't mean that motorcycle, do you?"
Harry grinned, "That's exactly what I mean. It hasn't been run very much, except to keep the battery charged in three years, so what d'you say, you and me, the open road, the wind in our hair?"
Hermione smiled, "You do paint a beautiful picture, and it is quite a distance from here to my parents' house, so it would definitely be a road trip, and the more I think about it, the better I like it!"
"Great! Let's saddle up! Accio travel bag!" Harry cried.
A large, black duffle bag came floating into the room, and Harry grabbed it. He dug through it, muttering. "Good, good, good. Whoa! Not good!" He pulled out a pair of socks that stank so bad, the fumes were almost visible.
Hermione covered her nose, "Oh, Harry, get rid of those things!"
"Right!" Harry levitated the socks above his hand, narrowed his eyes and they burst into flames. They burned swiftly, not even leaving an ash to mark their existence.
"I'll go grab my bag, you go get the bike ready," said Hermione.
"Okay, hurry back," Harry went one way and Hermione went another. He went up the stairs to the third floor, opened a side door and went into a fully stocked garage. The place was immaculate, not one speck of grease or dust anywhere. Magic was so handy. He looked at the gleaming black motorcycle with its Harley Davidson nameplate shining in chrome. He miniaturized his duffle bag and dropped it into the leather saddlebag. He threw his leg over the seat, turned the key and then gathering his strength, jumped on the kick-start lever. That was one thing he had never liked about the big bike, that damn kick-start hated him. He managed to get it fired up after another three tries, the big engine popping through the straight pipes and nearly deafening him in the enclosed space.
Hermione came running in, her bag in her hand. Harry looked at her and grinned. He took her bag and stuck it in the saddlebag with his. She hopped on back, wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tight.
"Scared?" he asked.
"A bit, I've never been on a flying motorcycle before."
"Who said we were gonna fly? Harry gunned the throttle and the wall split down the center, sliding smoothly to the sides. Harry waited until he had a clear path, then twisted the handle hard. The big bike peeled rubber all the way through the room and out onto the yard. They roared down the hill and through Hogsmeade, sending people diving for cover, unsure of what manner of beast had found its way into their sleepy little hamlet.
*The Grangers' House*
Harry and Hermione arrived at her parents' house a little after noon, two days later. Harry pulled Sirius' big, black Harley Davidson into the circle driveway and parked it behind a Cherry Red, 1957 Aston Martin DB 2/4 MK III Coupe, and a Silver 1980 Porsche 911 Turbo. There was an Emerald Green 1998 Land Rover parked in front of the garage with the driver's side rear door open, and several grocery bags setting in the seat. Hermione leaped off the back of the bike as Harry killed it, and ran for the woman emerging from the house.
"Mum!" Hermione cried, throwing her arms around Mrs. Granger.
"Hermione!" said Mrs. Granger, embracing her daughter. "What are you doing here? What was all that noise, and who is this handsome young man?"
Hermione indicated Harry as she stepped back a pace, "Mum, you remember Harry."
"Hello Mrs. Granger," said Harry nodding his head politely. "Sorry about the noise."
Mrs. Granger smiled and extended her hand, "Of course I do. How have you been Harry?"
"Pretty good," said Harry, shaking her hand. "Can I lend a hand with those groceries?"
Mrs. Granger looked shocked for a moment, and then smiled, "Yes, thank you."
Harry grabbed the remaining bags and walked behind the two women as they talked.
"Mum, Harry and I have to go on a trip, and we won't be able to communicate with you for an indefinite period of time."
Mrs. Granger looked from Hermione back at Harry, "What's going on?"
Harry wasn't sure how much to tell, but the look in Mrs. Granger's eyes warned him that he'd better have a darn good reason. "Our old Head Master is very ill, and the only way to cure him is to procure the services of a creature that gives new definition to the word 'paranoid.'"
"Why can't you deal with this alone?" asked Mrs. Granger, as they walked through the large living room and into the kitchen. "Hermione has told us repeatedly that you're the greatest wizard to ever live."
Harry blushed and set the bags down on a counter. "She's being generous, she's actually the greatest."
"I am not!" said Hermione, turning red.
"Are too, and you know it," said Harry. "But to answer your question, there is a spell that has to be performed by a female, and the creature that is summoned requires a trial period during which no magic can be performed and nothing and no one is allowed around us. At this same time, we're not allowed to leave the creature's presence."
"I see," said Mrs. Granger. "You'll at least stay for dinner won't you?"
"Of course we will," Hermione said. "We have a lot to discuss with you and Daddy." Hermione looked around, "Speaking of Daddy, where is he?"
"He went into his study about an hour before I left to go to the store. He's probably working on one of those model ships of his. I swear, the house could fall down around his ears, and he'd never realize it."
Harry grinned, "Now I know where she gets it."
Mrs. Granger returned his grin, "Yes, our little girl takes after her father."
"Oh, I don't know. I'd say she got some of her best attributes from you," said Harry winking.
Mrs. Granger blushed, and Hermione slapped him on the arm. "Harry! Stop flirting with my mother!"
"What? Sirius said that all women deserve to have their beauty appreciated, and that there is nothing wrong with making a woman feel good about herself," Harry said defensively. "Besides, I was just being honest. You have her eyes and nose, and ears, and you know how much I like your ears."
"This Sirius fellow seems very wise," said Mrs. Granger, "I'd like to meet him someday."
"MUM!"
"What, Hermione? I'm a woman same as you, and I happen to like being complimented on my looks," Mrs. Granger said. "Do you think it's easy to stay in this kind of shape at my age?"
"Well, no, but…"
"No buts, Hermione. I'm not a young woman anymore, and I'll take all the compliments I can get, even if they are slightly backhanded," said Mrs. Granger with a sideways glance at Harry. "I don't have magic to make me look good; I have to work hard to stay in this shape."
Harry smiled, "It's worth it, because you look great."
"Thank you."
Hermione grabbed Harry's arm, "Let's go say hi to Daddy, then I'll come back and help you put this stuff away, Mum."
"I'll be right here," said Mrs. Granger. "Oh and Hermione, I have some things I'd like to discuss with you privately, so let Harry and your father talk."
"Okay Mum."
Harry started walking, and when he got out of earshot of the kitchen, he turned to Hermione. "I don't like the sound of that."
"Relax Harry. This is a normal part of getting together, you'll be fine."
Harry gulped, and tried to calm his nerves. "Okay." They continued through the house to the basement door. "Nice place for a basement. Aren't they usually off the kitchen?"
"Yes, but Daddy had this one specifically built for his study. It is completely sound proof; no noise can get in or out."
Harry blanched, "Oh yeah, that makes me feel much better."
"Harry, are you nervous?"
"A little," Harry admitted.
"Why? You've faced Voldemort without flinching, why the nerves over visiting my father?"
"I've heard numerous horror stories from Sirius about meeting a girl's father."
"Oh Harry, honestly."
"Just promise to come and check on me in ten minutes or so. Please."
"Okay, you big baby," said Hermione giggling.
They came to a large door set under the stairs in the den, and Hermione pushed the button on the doorjamb. A few seconds later, the door opened, and Mr. Granger was standing there. He was a big man, as tall as Harry, but thicker through the chest. He had a neatly trimmed Van Dyke goatee, and his hair was combed back from his forehead. He smiled when he saw Hermione, and gathered her into a big bear hug.
"Hermione! How's my baby girl?"
"I'm fine, Daddy," said Hermione, returning the hug.
"Who's this?" Mr. Granger asked when he released Hermione from the hug. "He looks familiar."
"Daddy, this is Harry."
"Harry? Harry?" Mr. Granger tapped his chin in thought, "I know I've heard that name before…"
"Daddy!"
"Oh! Harry POTTER!" Mr. Granger thrust his hand out to shake. "How have you been, son?"
"I've been good sir," Harry extended his hand and met Mr. Granger grip for grip.
"What brings you two here?"
"We're visiting before taking a longer trip, Daddy," said Hermione.
"Is that right?"
"Yes, sir," Harry nodded.
"Daddy, I have to go help Mum with the groceries, she said to leave you and Harry to talk."
"Then I guess you'd better go help her." Mr. Granger kissed Hermione's cheek, and she sprinted back the way they came.
"Don't run in the house!" He turned back to Harry. "Please, make yourself comfortable."
"Thank you." Harry walked inside the study, and was amazed at the amount and variety of stuff on the walls. Beside the door was a display case full of swords and on one wall behind the desk was a large gun rack that held several old muzzle loading rifles, and a glass cabinet that housed a number of much newer model firearms faced the desk. Everywhere Harry looked was some sort of cabinet or shelf, and if they didn't house weapons, they contained books or intricate model ships in bottles.
Harry stopped at the sword case and inspected one of the broadswords, noting some curious scratches on the handle. "Nice collection you have here."
"Thank you," Mr. Granger settled himself into the large leather chair behind his desk, and picked up a case. He opened it, and removed several long, thin throwing knives. He tossed one up and caught it deftly before sending it spinning into a target several feet from his position.
"Nice throw," said Harry. "If you put more spin on it, it will stick better."
"You know knives?"
"Yes, sir, a bit."
Mr. Granger offered one of the knives to Harry. "Be my guest."
Harry took the proffered weapon, spun it in the air, caught it by the tip, and then twirled it in his fingers getting its balance. He spun the blade back and forth, and then hurled it into the target.
Mr. Granger whistled appreciatively. "Very nice, someone has taught you the art of knife handling."
"You're pretty good yourself," said Harry. "Hermione said you're a dentist, but you handle a blade like you've used one before."
"That I have, son, that I have. I don't talk about it, because it upsets the wife, and she forbade me to ever tell Hermione, but I wasn't always a dentist. I used to be in the R.A.F, Squadron 56," he said proudly. "We were known as the phoenix squadron, on account of the phoenix on our badges and we always rose from the ashes to get the job done."
"Wow!" Harry exclaimed. It seemed that no matter where he went, he couldn't escape his connection with the mystical bird. He covered his amazement by turning it to flying. "I can't believe you were a pilot."
"I flew the Phantom FG2, but I gave everything up two years before Hermione was born."
"Do you miss it?"
"Flying?"
"Yes."
"More than I ever thought possible," said Mr. Granger sadly.
"You're lucky we came to visit," said Harry with a broad smile.
"Why is that?"
"Well, sir, I just happen to have a flying motorcycle parked outside, and if you'd like to take it for a spin, I don't mind at all."
"You have a motorcycle? What kind?"
"Harley."
Mr. Granger got a far off look in his eyes, "I haven't been on a motorcycle in years," he said wistfully. "I've probably forgotten how to ride."
"Nonsense, it'll all come back to you."
"Are you certain you don't mind?"
"Yes, sir."
"I can't believe that for the first time in twenty years I'm going to get to ride a Harley." Mr. Granger's voice held more than a hint of excitement, in fact it sounded like he was barely restraining himself from dashing outside.
"We'll have to wait until it gets dark to fly. We don't want the neighbors spotting you."
"Oh, of course not," said Mr. Granger, settling back into his chair. The silence grew between them, and both shifted uncomfortably.
Harry decided to change the subject and indicated the sword case. "If you don't mind my asking, where did you get that sword?"
Mr. Granger seemed to forget all about flying. "Which one are you referring to?"
"The broadsword with the curled up cross guard."
"Oh that one, I picked it up at an estate sale. Why?"
"It's magic."
"What?"
Harry raised his hand, and the weapon in question flew across the room and landed in his palm. "See these marks here?" He said, laying the sword on the desk and indicating the runic symbols etched into the hilt.
"Yes. What are they?"
"They're Runes, they indicate the presence of magic."
"Can you read it?"
"Usually, but these have been marred too much to make out the inner inscriptions."
"Is it dangerous?"
"It could be. There's a very easy way to find out, and I think you'll get a kick out of this." Harry reached back to his right shoulder, closed his hand, and then pulled Excalibur out of thin air.
When the enchanted blade of legends appeared, Mr. Granger gasped, and the sword lying on the desk started shaking violently.
"Whoa! It seems that it doesn't like Excalibur!" said Harry, standing up and moving his weapon further away from the one on the desk.
Mr. Granger seemed to be doing his impression of a fish out of water. "That…that….that's EXCALIBUR?"
"Yes, sir," said Harry, "The one and only."
"I thought it was only a legend!"
Harry smiled, "All legends are based on fact IF you go back far enough."
"Wow," Mr. Granger breathed almost reverently, "Excalibur…in my house." He started to stick out his hand, but paused in mid motion. "May I touch it?"
Harry looked at the weapon in his hand, then at the hopeful look on Mr. Granger's face. "Yes. I'll have to keep my hand on it as well, or it may go berserk."
"Of course," said Mr. Granger. He placed his hand above Harry's on the hilt, and a huge grin lit his face. "I can't believe I'm holding Excalibur!"
Harry smiled in return, but then noticed that the other sword had stopped its antics. "Well, I guess our friend isn't harmful, but it's definitely enchanted."
"Does that mean I can keep it?" asked Mr. Granger, releasing his hold on Excalibur.
"Yes, sir," said Harry. "It appears to recognize other enchanted objects, so it may have been a simple threat detector."
"Ahh, I see."
Harry returned Excalibur to its invisible scabbard, and sat back down while Mr. Granger returned the other sword to its case.
"So Harry, tell me about this trip you and Hermione have to take."
"Well sir, our old Head Master is very ill, and Hermione and I have to undertake a quest to find the ingredients that make up the only potion that can cure him."
"Just the two of you?" asked Mr. Granger, taking his seat and propping his feet up on one corner of his desk.
"Yes, sir, we also have to cast a spell to summon a very nervous creature, and it requires a trial period where it learns if it can trust us or not."
"Seems like you'll be spending quite a bit of time together," at Harry's nod, Mr. Granger dropped his feet, and leaned forward over the desk, his eyes boring into Harry's. "Just what are your intentions regarding my daughter?"
Harry's stomach knotted up, and he fidgeted in his seat, but didn't break eye contact. "She means the world to me, sir. I'd never do anything to hurt her."
"I'm glad you feel that way, because she's my baby girl, and I want to make sure she's treated right," said Mr. Granger leaning back in his chair. "I won't ask anything embarrassing because I respect my daughter's judgment; however, I have to ask what your financial status is."
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, sir, I inherited a small fortune from my parents, and due to some rather shrewd investments I've managed to augment my inheritance quite substantially."
"What kind of investments?"
Harry scratched his head. "I gave a thousand galleons to some friends of mine to start a novelty shop. After the initial investment to get them started, I used some of my influence to get other investors for them, and now they're a household name in the Wizarding World."
"I see," said Mr. Granger, "Do you think they'd be interested in another investor?"
"Yes, sir. It's a very solid investment. I told Hermione they pay me a thousand galleons a month, but in reality, I don't know how much they pay me. I just know that since they've been depositing money in my account, I've had to get a second vault at Gringott's."
Mr. Granger let out a soft whistle. "When you get a chance, please let them know I'm interested in setting up a meeting with them."
"Yes, sir, I'll be sure to do that," said Harry.
"You don't have to call me, sir, Harry," said Mr. Granger.
"What would you prefer?"
"Well, my name is Geoffrey, with a G."
"That's not very common."
"I was named after Chaucer, my father's favorite writer, but I go by Geoff. Are you okay with that?"
"Yes, si-uh-Sure, Geoff."
"That's better, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it is," said Harry. He decided to change the subject to something more interesting. "Speaking of flying; that is an awesome red car you have in the driveway."
"Ah, you like that do you?" Geoff smiled, "That car was my graduation gift to myself. Come on, we'll go take a closer look at it, and you can show me your scoot." said Mr. Granger, as he stood up.
"Cool!" Harry hopped up out of his chair, and followed Geoff out of the room.
They had passed through the kitchen where the women were just finishing with the groceries, and had almost reached the front door when Hermione stopped them.
"Having fun?"
"Loads," said Harry smiling. "We're going out to take a look at the bike. Did you know your dad used to ride?"
"No," said Hermione. "He's alluded to being slightly rebellious in his youth, but would never give me any details." She shook her head at her father. "Honestly, Daddy."
Harry's eyes widened when he realized just how much Hermione didn't know about her father. He felt rather like Hagrid must have felt when he accidentally gave away the secret to getting past Fluffy. "I shouldn't have said that," he mumbled, mentally smacking himself in the head. "I should not have said that."
Geoff grinned, "Don't worry about it, Harry." He looked at his daughter and smiled. "I've wanted to tell you for some time now, Honey, but your mother asked me not to. She was afraid that if you heard about how much of a rule breaker I was, then you might have been tempted to stray from the straight and narrow and get yourself into all sorts of troubles and adventures."
Hermione rolled her eyes and Harry chuckled. "Geoff, Hermione is the only reason I'm still alive. She's been instrumental in assisting me with all my adventures, and sometimes she's had to break some rules."
Hermione snorted, "Break he says, more like shattered to pieces."
"You never told us about those parts," said Mr. Granger, giving his daughter a long look.
"I thought it best to omit certain aspects of our adventures as they may not have been well received," said Hermione.
Geoff raised an eyebrow. "Good call."
Hermione smiled sweetly. "I love you, Daddy!"
"And that's supposed to make it all better, isn't it?" Geoff sighed wearily.
"Yes."
"What am I going to do with you, Princess?" Geoff shook his head at his daughter, and then turned to Harry, "You see all these grey hairs?" he asked, running his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. "Every last one of them was caused by this girl." Hermione stuck her tongue out at her father, and Geoff broke into a broad smile, "I tell you, Harry, pray you never have any daughters, because they will drive you nuts!"
Harry laughed, and Hermione glared at her father. "That's not funny, Daddy!"
"Harry obviously thought it was funny," said Geoff, grinning from ear to ear.
Hermione gave Harry a dirty look that made both men laugh even harder, "Yes, well Harry never has had much of a sense of humor."
"That's not true, Hermione," said Harry chuckling. "You just have a hard time appreciating it."
"I have a hard time appreciating it, because it's almost nonexistent," Hermione said dryly.
Harry opened his mouth, but a look from Geoff stopped him. "Give it a rest son, you'll never win."
"Yes Harry, listen to Geoff," said Mrs. Granger, walking into the room. "He knows what it's like to never win."
"Oh really?" said Geoff with a sly smile.
"Don't go there, Geoff."
"Why not, Gretchen?" asked Mr. Granger. "I seem to recall winning just the other night…Now what did I win?" He got a far away look on his face that slowly turned into an evil grin, "Oh yeah! You had to wear that little--
Mrs. Granger blushed, and she slapped her husband on the upper arm, "Geoff! Not in front of the kids."
Hermione looked mortified at the turn the conversation had taken, "Mum! Dad! Please! I do not need to hear this!"
"Now look what you've done, Geoff, you've scarred our daughter for life!"
"Oh dear!" cried Mr. Granger dramatically. "Hermione, Honey, can you ever forgive me?"
"Daddy!" Hermione said through clenched teeth.
Harry was amazed at the banter going on between Mr. and Mrs. Granger. He'd never seen the like in his entire life, and it gave him a warm feeling inside to see two people that obviously loved one another a great deal having fun together without actually going anywhere or doing anything other than talking. The fact that Hermione looked like she was ready to have a coronary just made it that much more entertaining.
"You two are embarrassing me," said Hermione.
Mr. Granger turned to Mrs. Granger, "Did you know that we're embarrassing our daughter?"
"Whatever gave you that idea?"
"Didn't you hear her?"
"Was she speaking?" asked Mrs. Granger.
Hermione rolled her eyes, "Oh for God's sake, not the question game!"
"Did you hear someone?" asked Mr. Granger, smiling broadly.
"Did I hear someone what?" Mrs. Granger played along beautifully.
"Will you two please STOP?"
Mrs. Granger winked at her husband, "I'm sorry Hermione, were you saying something?"
"Yes!" Hermione cried.
"Well, what is it?" asked Geoff, fighting a grin.
"I don't remember," said Hermione, looking like she was doing her best to stay mad, but failing miserably.
Harry choked on his laughter, drawing their attention to him.
"Oh, Harry, I'm sorry," said Mrs. Granger. "We didn't mean to leave you out of the fun."
Harry smiled and raised a hand, "Not at all. I'm used to observing family interactions rather than being a part of them."
"That's terrible," said Mrs. Granger. "Hermione's told us about your upbringing, and it infuriates me to think that a boy as nice as you are was treated so badly. You were practically a slave in your own home! Oooh! I'd love to give those Dursleys a piece of my mind!"
"Calm down, Gretchen," said Geoff. "There's no need to upset yourself over the past, right Harry?"
"Yes, sir, what's done is done. I squared things with them three years ago, and no longer bear them any ill will."
"That takes a big man, Harry," said Mr. Granger.
"Just don't ask how he squared it," muttered Hermione.
"I'm sure they got only what they deserved," said Mrs. Granger. "I wouldn't blame you if you hated them, Harry."
"Well ma'am,--
"Gretchen," said Mrs. Granger breaking in, "call me Gretchen."
"Well, Gretchen, I've learned a lot of things in the past few years, and one of them is that life is far too short to waste even one second hating another person. I had the chance to avenge my parents' death by killing the man that betrayed them, but I chose to let him live. I got the opportunity again, when he tried to harm Hermione, and this time I didn't hold back," Harry let that statement hang for a moment so they could grasp the implications, and then continued on. "I know what it's like to hate, and it eats away at you. It can sustain you in a time of hardship, but if it is never let go, it will consume your very soul"
"That's deep," said Geoff.
"Daddy, stop. Harry is being serious," said Hermione. "He's gone through more in the past ten years than most people go through in a lifetime or even two lifetimes," she moved next to Harry, and took his hand in both of hers. "It's rare and very difficult for him to speak about things like this, so please accord him some respect!"
"No disrespect intended, Hermione, that was a very deep sentiment, and one I agree with whole heartedly," said Mr. Granger.
"Thank you, Geoff," said Harry. He looked around at the solemn faces and grinned self consciously, "I didn't mean to bring everyone down, let's talk about something more light hearted."
"I'm all for that," said Gretchen, "What were you boys going to do outside?"
"I was going to show Harry the cars, and he was going to let me ride his bike."
"I don't think that's a good idea, Geoff," said Mrs. Granger frowning. "Motorcycles are notoriously dangerous, and I know how you get."
"Aww, Honey, I'll be careful," smiled Mr. Granger.
"See that you do, it's been a long time since you last rode, and we don't need you in the hospital because you had an accident."
Harry looked at Hermione and grinned. It seemed like they had once had a similar argument, but over very different circumstances.
"I will," said Geoff, "now don't worry." He reached in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He took out several large bills and handed them to his wife. "Here, why don't you and Hermione go shopping? It's on me."
Harry got the distinct impression that Mr. Granger was trying to get rid of the women for a few hours, but wisely kept his mouth shut. He noticed that Mrs. Granger could see right through her husband, but she went along with him anyway.
"Okay Geoff, we'll go shopping, but I'd rather have your credit card instead of…" she held up the bills, "these."
Mr. Granger was visibly torn between wanting time to enjoy the motorcycle and freely handing over his credit card. Eventually, excitement beat out monetary concerns, and he dug the card out and passed it over. "Here, please try to use some restraint."
"Thank you," said Mrs. Granger. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed her husband on the cheek, "you're such a sweetie, Geoff."
"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Mr. Granger. "Can I have my cash back?"
"Oh no, Hermione and I are going to use it to dine on," said Mrs. Granger with a wide smile. "We'll see you later, come on Hermione, you can drive the Porsche."
"No! Harry and I were going to tinker with it," said Geoff. "Take the Land Rover."
Hermione pouted and gave her father a sad puppy face, "But I don't wanna drive the Rover, Daddy. I wanna drive the Porsche."
Harry snickered, but Geoff took one look at his daughter's face and relented. "Okay, Honey, you take the Porsche."
"Thank you, Daddy!" Hermione threw her arms around her father neck.
"You're welcome, Sweetheart."
Harry stood silently, just taking in everything. He'd never seen this side of Hermione before, and he had to admit that he found it incredibly endearing. She was very much daddy's little princess, and he had a sudden insight to what she must have been like as a very young child. He smiled at how cute the little girl in his head was, and out of nowhere wondered if his daughter would look like her mother or himself. He was mildly surprised when that thought landed, but rather than push it away, his mind decided to explore the possibilities. His smile turned sad when he realized that his parents would never get to meet any of their grandchildren, and he felt a flash of rage wash over him when he thought about the reason why that would never happen…Voldemort. His fists clenched and he vaguely heard the knuckles crack.
"Harry? Harry? Yoo-Hoo! Hey, Harry!"
"Huh? What?" Harry came back to himself to discover Mr. Granger waving a hand in front of his face.
"Wow! Boy when you space out, you really space out!"
"Sorry, Geoff," mumbled Harry.
"Harry, are you alright? Hermione asked. Harry could hear the worry in her voice.
"I'm fine, Hermione," said Harry, avoiding her eyes.
Hermione planted herself in front of him and grabbed his head, pulling it down until their eyes locked. "Are you sure? You looked deep in thought about something, then your knuckles cracked and we saw that you were clenching your fists.
"Yeah, I was just daydreaming for minute."
"Actually it was more like five minutes," said Mrs. Granger.
"It was?" asked Harry.
"Yes. Does that happen often?"
"No, not often, but due to recent events, it's happened a few times." Harry scratched the back of his neck. "It's a reaction to Voldemort, when I think about him, I get a little angry, and I zone out for a few minutes." Harry noticed that now all three of them appeared to be worried about his mental health. "Really, it's no big deal."
Hermione looked sceptical, but gave in, "If you're sure it's nothing to worry about, I'll respect your decision, but please don't brush aside my concern."
"Thank you, Hermione."
Mrs. Granger walked over and took Hermione's hand. "We'll see you boys later, have fun but please try to stay out of trouble."
"We will," said Mr. Granger, "have a good time."
Hermione plucked the credit card out of her mother's hand and waved it, "With this in hand, a good time is guaranteed." She gave Harry a quick kiss, and then she and her mother ran for the front door giggling like little girls.
"Don't run in the house!" Geoff bellowed after them.
Harry heard the Porsche start up, the engine revved a few times, and then the unmistakable sound of tires peeling out on pavement. "Get on it, Hermione!"
"That girl is a terror," Geoff turned to Harry with an almost maniacal gleam in his eyes. "Now that they're gone, we can go have some fun!"
Harry laughed, shook his head and indicated the door with his hand, "After you."
Mr. Granger didn't waste a second, like a shot, he was out the door. Harry just shook his head, and went outside as well.
Mr. Granger was walking around the Harley Davidson, giving it a long appraising look. He squatted down and peered intently at the V-Twin engine, lightly running his hand over the seat and fuel tank.
"This is a fine piece of machinery, Harry, a fine piece of machinery."
Harry walked over and squatted down as well, "Thanks, it was a present from my godfather."
"That man has excellent taste in bikes."
"Yeah, he does," said Harry. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a set of keys. "Ready to saddle up?"
"I thought you said we'd have to wait for nightfall."
"To fly we do, but not to ride."
"In that case," Mr. Granger's eyes lit up and he eagerly grabbed the keys and hopped aboard the big bike. "I can't believe I'm about to ride a Harley again. This is far out!"
Harry grinned, "Well, are you gonna set there admiring the thing or are you gonna ride?"
"Patience son, you don't rush an experience like this," explained Mr. Granger slowly. "It's like the first time you have sex, take your time and ease into it."
Harry blushed crimson, "I…I wouldn't know anything about that."
Mr. Granger frowned, "You mean you and Hermione haven't…?"
"No, sir!" Harry fervently wished that this topic hadn't come up, but now that he was confronted by it, he felt the need to explain his actions or lack thereof. "The truth is… we can't."
"I'm not trying to encourage you, son, but of course you can."
Harry searched for a way to explain that wouldn't have him blatantly stating his reasons. "Geoff, what do you know about Unicorns?"
Geoff scratched his head, all his excitement about the motorcycle seemingly forgotten. "They're the embodiment of purity and innocence, and can only be approached by maidens. Why?"
"Well, the creature we have to contact is a type of flying unicorn, and demands the same rule."
"Oh, I see. You can't because if you did then the creature wouldn't allow contact."
"Right, and to prevent any accidents, I placed a ward on Hermione that will…How can I put this delicately? It will…repel me, if things start getting out of hand."
Geoff shook his head, "I like the way you think, Harry. That is a very responsible approach to the whole thing."
"Thank you, Geoff," said Harry. He reached over and flipped the ignition switch to ON.
"No problem son," said Mr. Granger. He seemed to think of something, "Did you want to come with me or what?"
"Nah, you've got far more experience than I have," said Harry, "I figure you're perfectly capable to solo."
"Alright," Geoff popped out the kick start lever and jumped on it. The powerful engine roared to life through the straight pipes, loud enough that Harry noticed several curtains being drawn back as people peeked outside. "Wow! This thing is loud!" Geoff shouted to make himself heard over the rumble.
"Would you have it any other way?" Harry shouted back.
Geoff grinned and shook his head, "Hell no!"
"Have fun!" Harry shouted as Mr. Granger popped the clutch and lit up the back tire. The Harley laid rubber for twenty feet before Geoff let off the accelerator and tore off down the road. Harry shook his head in amusement. Everyone was entitled to acting childish every once in a while. He waited for a few more moments, and then taking a quick look around to make sure no one was watching, he made himself invisible. He took flight, flying just fast enough to catch up to the big Harley. He decided not to say anything so as not to startle the man, but kept pace a few feet above the rider's head. As he flew, his thoughts wandered, never settling on any one thing. He was on a sort of autopilot, just going with the flow. The wind rushing through his hair helped to clear his mind, and he settled down to enjoy his flight.
Harry loved flying, and had been overjoyed to discover that with a little practice he could fly without the need of a broomstick, something that no wizard had ever done. He had kept this tidbit of information to himself, because he didn't want anyone to know just how extensive his powers had become. Arch Mage was bad enough, but if people learned that he could fly without a broom, they were likely to start worshipping him, and that was something that he was not prepared to deal with. Although he had given thought to wearing a long red cape instead of the black or gray he usually wore, just for the look and feel of a real life superhero like most people thought he was. He smiled when he imagined himself in tights and a cape, a big lightning bolt emblazoned across his chest. Now there was an image to provide years of humiliation.
Harry knew that as soon as he and Hermione left the Granger's house they would have to summon the Alicorn and that as much as he hated to do it, he was going to have to leave the motorcycle behind. The magical means by which it flew would constitute a violation of the rules by which the Alicorn Nation operated, and he didn't want to start out on the wrong foot. He figured that Geoff would be only too happy to keep an eye on the big bike, and intended to broach the subject later that night. For the moment however, he was content to fly along behind the motorcycle and just relax. He closed his eyes, and let the rumble of the bike lull him into an almost sleep like state.
The sound of the bike downshifting awoke him some time later, and he saw that Geoff was turning down a long dirt driveway. In the distance, Harry could make out a nice house, and large barn like structure. The bike roared down the drive, and stopped in front of the barn. A large man, even bigger than Geoff walked out, wiping his dirty hands on a rag. He smiled when he saw his visitor, and Harry floated down to listen to their conversation.
"Hi-ya Ranger!" The big man sounded like an American, but his voice had just a touch of a Canadian inflection, with an underlying Scottish burr. He looked like a smaller version of Hagrid except he wasn't as bulky. He stuck his rag in his pocket and offered his hand as Geoff killed the bike and climbed off.
Geoff took the proffered hand and shook, wincing as the bigger man applied a bit too much pressure.
"Hey, Bear," said Geoff, extracting his hand, and rubbing the circulation back into it. "How many times do I have to tell you to watch your strength?"
The big man looked embarrassed. "Sorry Ranger, ye okay?"
"I'm fine. How have you been?"
"Pretty good, I been working on my new bike." His eyes alit on the bike behind Geoff. "Say! Tha's a right fine piece of hardware there! When did ye get tha'?" He moved closer and knelt down to get a closer look.
"It's not mine, it belongs to my daughter's boyfriend."
"Ahh, and what do ye think of the boyo?"
"He's a good kid. From the way Hermione talks about him, you'd think he hung the moon."
Bear smiled, revealing perfectly white teeth. "Young love eh?"
"Seems like it."
Bear stood back up and eyed his friend. "Ye don't sound too happy aboot it."
Geoff shrugged, and Harry's ears perked up. "It's not that I'm unhappy about it, it's just that a little over a month ago, she just took off out of the blue because he called her. I haven't seen or heard from her in that whole time, and now she said they're about to leave on a trip together. I trust her judgment, Bear, but she's been living with him for over a month, and now they're taking an extended trip, and don't know when they'll be back. I've talked to Harry, and he told me the particulars, but I'm still worried. There's something they're not telling me, I know it!"
"Ach lad, there's nae need t' worry." Bear patted Geoff on the shoulder. "Kids these days keep lot's o' stuff from us old timers."
"I know that, Bear, but I get the feeling that what they're involved in is more dangerous than they're letting on."
"You have no idea just how right you are, Geoff" Harry thought.
"Now, now, Ranger, ye don't wanna go gettin' involved in their business."
"I know, I know. Beside, that's not why I came out here."
"Why did ye, come oot here, then?"
"Well, I've got this bike for a few hours, I thought maybe you and me could take a ride."
Bear grinned, "Jus' let me get me bike!" He hurried into the garage, and Harry heard another powerful engine crank. Bear came wheeling out on a bright red Harley similar in design to Harry's, but Bear's was a chopper, with ape hangers and missing the sissy bar. Harry let out a low whistle. The bike was red with silver and blue flames on the tank. It written across the back fender was the word, "OUTLAW," in big block letters.
Bear pulled up next to Harry's bike and waited for Geoff to climb aboard. "Race ya, Ranger."
Geoff grinned, "You better believe it!" He fired up the big bike and raised his voice over the two rumbling brutes. "On three!"
"Ready! One! Two! Three!" Both men counted down, grinning like fools as the big bikes tore off, leaving a huge cloud of dust in their wake.
Harry grinned, then walked over to the barn, flew up to the roof, and making himself comfortable, settled down for a nice nap.
T.B.C.
Author's Note: Sorry this took so long, lots of delays, please read and review! Keep an eye out for Chapter 6: The Return of Ron.