Chapter 6: Pause in thoughts
Author's Note: this chapter has taken a long time for me to write. I recently acquired some new source material and incorporating some new ideas.
Also this is not a story about Roland, but rather he is the guide for Harry and Hermione. Just wait and see. I would like to thank my betas. And please R and R.
Notes to Reviewers:
Izzieq: no she isn't meant to be that annoying, but still… Just wait.
Godsowndevil: only five, I have seven as of now, and at least now more to come. And believe every stinking detail about Harry that is come will show his true element.
Goldgrin: Something like that. But Roland doesn't know everything there is to about the elements.
Davaca: Pride above all else sometimes leads to the greatest falls.
And as a final thought, like Fitzgerald, all details do matter. Enjoy.
* * * * * *
Harry hadn't slept well that night after he got his letter from Hermione. Too much was on his mind and he couldn't focus that well. The dreams were horrible, but Harry couldn't remember exactly why. There was just something about them that haunted his mind. Sirius and Hermione were the only two things that he could remember. And fire; Harry remembered fire. That had the biggest impact on Harry besides Hermione, but she was in the fire.
The doorbell rang and Harry sat up. He wondered who was at the door that early in the morning. The sun hadn't even broken through the window and lit Harry's room yet. He rubbed his eyes and reached for his glasses, only to hear his uncle scream, "What the bloody hell-" but that was it. His uncle didn't say another word.
Getting up quickly, Harry got dressed and opened his door to look down the hallway, hoping to see what was happening. He heard a sound that he thought was something struggling, but it quickly passed and was replaced by heavy breathing. Someone walked up the stairs and Harry saw that it was Roland, holding a duffel bag. "Ready to leave," he was calm and collect. Whatever happened downstairs didn't affect him.
"No," Harry replied, "I didn't think that I was leaving this soon." He turned around and walked into his room, presuming that Roland was following. Without much thought, Harry pulled out what ever clothes he had gotten from Roland and turned back around to see that he was alone. Roland had disappeared. He looked back to his bed, only to see Roland, packing his things into the duffel bag. "You know, I could do that myself."
"Not as quickly," Roland said. He had finished packing and looked up at Harry. "Where's the rest of your stuff?" Harry pointed and the closet and Roland disappeared in a black shadow. He stood there shocked for a moment, before looking at his closet. The man had already pulled out Harry's trunk and was chaining it to his back. "Grab your bag and let's go." Roland was walking toward the door with the trunk on his back. There seemed to be little change in his body movements, other then he was a little hunched over now. Roland was walking just as calmly as he was before. Harry hadn't moved. "Come on, Harry. We don't have much time." Harry grabbed his bag and followed Roland out the door.
As they walked downstairs not a word was spoken by anyone. Harry was just surprised at how efficient Roland was. He came in the Dursleys' home with a plan and was finished quickly. He paused at the bottom of the stairs wondering where the rest of his family was. "Roland, where are-"
"Your family," Roland's sarcasm was dripping from his words. "Around, I don't know really. I scared them pretty good." He chuckled as he opened the door. "We don't have much time, Harry. The Portkey is waiting." Portkey, Harry wondered. How did he get a Portkey? Roland was already out the door, before Harry had a chance to ask the question that he had left on the Boy-who-Lived's mind.
"Roland." Harry ran after the man. "Roland, wait up." Outside, Roland was standing straight up and looking at the sky. Clouds were forming over head; large gray ones. "A storm?" The sky had been clear a few minutes ago.
"More than that." Roland turned around, facing Harry. He had removed his sunglasses, showing the hollowness that hung in his eyes. "A passageway." He looked back up at the sky. "Come, Harry, there isn't much time." He motioned for Harry to stand next to him. "The Portkey will take action soon." Roland grabbed Harry's shoulder. "Ready?" Harry barely nodded before he felt like his stomach was pulled out from beneath him. When they finally landed, Harry fell to the ground. He groaned as he tried to move, his body was sore.
"What the bloody hell?" Harry said, try to get up. His body was shaking, but apparently, the fall didn't affect him as badly as Roland. He had yet to move. The trip's affects had finally finished and Harry felt normal. He looked around, trying to get a sense of where he was. There were houses down each side of the street, and some cars were parked outside of them. Apparently, no one was noticing the fact that two people had just arrived on the grass.
They had landed in a yard of probably the simplest house that Harry had seen. And that in itself was beautiful. Harry found it oddly welcoming and warm. It was almost like… a home to him. The front door was thrown open and in a moment, Harry found a bushy head of brown hair on his chest. Now he knew were he was. "Hi," was all he could say and still keep back the tears. Hermione held onto him tightly, and was softly crying. Harry rested his head on the top of hers and just held her. "Its okay, I'm here now." He had been so worried about her, and not hearing much from her… Wait, Harry did hear from Hermione, he just refused to read or reply to it. He had been an awful friend, only thinking of his grief and his pain. "I'm so sorry," he said, with his words holding back his tears.
"Its okay, Harry," she replied, but didn't stop sobbing. "You had your own problems to deal with. I'm just glad that Roland was able to get you."
"Roland." Harry released Hermione and smiled. She had stopped crying and was wiping her eyes. He turned to
the trunk that was on the ground. But Roland was no longer beneath it.
"Oh," Hermione said, "don't worry about him. He's been running about trying to get everything ready for this week."
"Why?" Harry couldn't help but ask. "What's so special about?" he placed and arm on Hermione's shoulder, and she smiled. They started to walk towards the door almost immediately, as if it was an instinct.
"Well, you are," Hermione wrapped an arm around his waist. Harry had a surprised look on his face. "For one, we don't have the charm that protects you anymore." Harry stopped. He had forgotten about that charm. What was Roland going to do? Hermione moved away from Harry and held her arms close. She didn't look at Harry. "Oh, but don't worry, Roland has it covered." Her voice held a bit of disappointment. Hermione was the one who usually had to do things for Harry, never someone else. "That's why you came the way you did. Roland said it was the only way for you to pass through the shields without going a roundabout way." Hermione turned back to face Harry, a sad look was pasted on her face. "Harry?"
"Yeah?" Harry replied.
"How do you feel about me and Ron?" She was truly worried about his reaction. But the truth was Harry wasn't really sure. He knew he was suppose to be happy for them, but something inside of him told him that it would never work. They were just too different. Harry turned away, trying to think about it. He really felt uncomfortable at the moment, shifting in his shoes and refusing to make eye contact. "Harry?"
"I guess," he finally said. "If you're happy, I'm happy." He shrugged his shoulders, and was crushed by Hermione's arms. Why was she hugging him, he did nothing special? All he did was say what he thought. If she was happy, Harry would be alright. That was all that truly mattered.
"Thank you," she whispered. Hermione's voice cracked and she sniffled. She was crying over this. What's with this girl? She's bloody mad. Harry finally decided, but didn't quite let go just yet.
"Listen you two," a woman's voice yelled from inside the house. "If you're just going to stand there, at least bring in Ron's chest." Neither of them pulled apart yet.
"Mum," Hermione quickly replied. "This isn't Ron."
"Well, the way you two are holding onto each other, I would have thought so." Harry quickly released Hermione, and she pushed herself away from him. Both had bright red faces and they didn't think that it was funny. But apparently, Mrs. Granger did, because she was laughing as she came out. She was wiping her hands on her apron. "Then you must be Harry Potter, it's so nice to meet you finally. Little Hermione couldn't stop talking about you."
"Actually," Roland came back outside. He was walking over to Harry's chest. "Every tenth word was about Ron. So it was close."
"Mum," Hermione whined. "Make him stop." But all that Mrs. Granger did was smile. She looked between Roland and her daughter.
Roland paused just next to the chest, and smiled. "Isn't she cute when she's angry?" Harry couldn't help but laugh, though he stopped the moment he saw Hermione's glare on him. Roland's smile disappeared as he looked down at the chest. "Hermione still thinks that she can take me in a wizards duel, though. One of these days I'll have to prove her wrong." Hermione snorted at her cousin. "I've yet to decide if I was going to give her a hard time all week or not." He looked over at Harry, and smiled again.
"You'd better not, Roland Demoas," Hermione shouted at her cousin. "Or I'll-"
"Or you'll what, Herms?" Roland asked. Herms, Hermione hates her name being shorted. Harry stared at the cousins arguing. "I have your wand already and I've bonded you for wandless magic." He looked up at Harry. "Which reminds me, Harry, I need your wand."
That was unexpected, even hearing what Roland said to Hermione. "Wait, why?" Harry replied.
Hermione sighed. "It's the only way Dumbledore will allow you to come here. He and another sorcerer casted a
spell on our house in order to continue to protect you." Hermione glared at her cousin. "But it only works if
no magic is used during the duration of the spell. That means-"
"No wands," Harry finished. He didn't like the idea of that, but if it got him to stay with Hermione, then it would have to be done. "Fine, but I'm not happy about it." Roland held a hand out for Harry. "What now?" The man nodded. "Fine then." Harry dug into his pocket and pulled out his wand. He held it out for Roland to take it, refusing to move. But Roland didn't have to move either. The wand flew from Harry's hand to the man's. The Boy-Who-Lived stared at his hand for a moment before looking at Roland, who was already pocketing the wand and picking up the chest. No one spoke as Roland walked with the chest inside the house.
"Come," Mrs. Granger said, "Hermione can explain it to you better inside." She walked back inside, leaving the two teenagers alone. For a moment, neither of them talked. Finally Harry said something. "When's Ron coming?"
"Tomorrow," Hermione replied. "Roland has to do some final adjustments before he comes. Didn't tell me why though. Never does." Her voice trailed off at the end, but Harry caught it all. She looked back up at her mother. "I wonder why she thought you were Ron." Her voice was low, and Harry barely heard her.
"You okay?" Harry asked. Hermione looked up at him, and smiled. That smile proved that everything was all right, and Harry knew it. Her eyes told him the whole story.
"Yeah, I am," Hermione said, and grabbed Harry's hand, pulling him inside with her. She immediately began to talk about the weeks that she hasn't seen Harry, telling him almost everything. And he smiled, knowing that everything would be all right.
* * * * * *
"Apparently the spell is working," a man with graying hair said to Albus. He was staring at a glowing orb on Albus' desk. The man wore a blue cloak with a red and white shirt. He looked almost regal. His hands were inches from the orb and were moving around in odd motions as if they were searching for something. A picture shined within the glass ball.
"It should," Albus replied. A smile was on his face as he looked up from his desk. "After all, Stephen, you are the creator of the spell."
"I'm still worried about it," Stephen looked up from his Orb of Seeing at the Headmaster. "Roland is too unpredictable."
"Once again, Stephen-" Stephen had returned to looking at the outside world from his Orb. What was Roland doing? His chaotic nature made it hard for the Sorcerer or Headmaster to figure out what was going on in his mind.
"I know Albus, he's my protégée, but that doesn't make me any less worried." Stephen looked up again. "His away from his Balance and Source, along with his Order, so that makes him even more chaotic."
"I take it that they are one and the same?" Albus asked. Stephen nodded. "Then he should be fine once he sees him again."
"It's a her, Albus," Stephen said, "and she is the most important being in the boy's life. Even if he doesn't know it." Albus nodded and thought some more about this Roland. He was a wild card, more so the Harry was.
Albus stood up and came from behind his desk to look at the Orb. "And the other two?"
"They shall fulfill the prophecy of the Elements." Stephen shifted the picture to Harry. "But your prophecy is still confusing to me. I've yet to fully decipher it, and I doubt it can be."
"It is as I thought," Albus shrunk back and leaned against the wall, showing his old age.
"Did you really think that it would be that simple?" Stephen turned back from the Orb of Seeing and stared at his newfound friend. When he was summoned by Eonos to come and help at Hogwarts, Stephen Strange knew what he was getting into to, just not how deep. His training with Roland had taught him a thing or two about the Wizarding world, but Stephen didn't know of Voldemort. But the Immortal Sorcerer doubted that there was much he could do. From what Albus had filled Stephen in on, Voldemort was collecting more and more power by the moment. "Even Roland's power can't beat your Dark Lord."
"I still can't believe that you won't accept the fact that Tom Riddle is a threat to us all. In sense, he's your dark lord."
"I accept that he is a threat to all of us, but as a Patriarch of the Hunters, I have much more to worry about. Demons are becoming more and more troublesome since Roland became a Hunter, and I'm having trouble keeping up with them." Stephen paused for a moment. "Pray that the Dark Lord who plagues the Hunters of this world never combines with your Dark Lord." He went back to searching the world, trying to find the special few that would be needed in due time. They would be needed soon and that was the reason for Roland to be in the real world.
* * * * * *
After a lengthy lunch prepared by Mrs. Granger and Roland, Harry and Hermione watched movies in the living room. Hermione suggested it, seeing as Harry had never even seen one before today, but she really wasn't watching the television. He was sitting on the couch, staring so intently at the scene, fascinated by what was going on. Hermione sat on a chair next to him, reading one of the few books that Roland hadn't taken from her. Her legs were pulled close up her body, with just enough space for her book and room to turn the pages. Roland had taken both of their trunks and locked them away in the basement. And having their wands, they couldn't do much about it. At least Harry had his clothes that he had bought with Roland.
Hermione looked over the top of her book for the umpteenth time and sighed at the clueless look on Harry's face. Unlike Ron, Harry had at least an idea of the Muggle world, but some things were still a mystery to him. He didn't really understand the tellie or what was on it. Harry knew what it did, but nothing more then what he watched Dudley do with it. Another sigh escaped her lips as Harry changed the channel again, he can't focus could he? But that anxiety didn't stop the smile that formed on her face.
Roland had come back inside finally. Hermione looked up from her book and Harry from the tellie, to see that he was exhausted. "Well, I'm done for the day." Roland limped over to the stairs and sat down heavily.
"So is there anything else you aren't telling us?" Hermione said, not moving from her chair.
"Probably," Roland replied, "But there is no way in the Seven Hells that I'm telling you." He smiled, as did Harry. But the Boy-Who-Lived stopped when Hermione glared at him. "See, if you can block it out, Harry, it has no effect on you." Roland dodged the pillow that came flying at him from Hermione. "But then that what you have to worry about?" The man was gone as another pillow was thrown at him and Hermione grunted in frustration.
"He's almost as bad as Ron," she said, and stretched out her legs. "I swear, sometimes…"
"Sometimes what, Hermione?" Harry asked.
"He's just a little child." She finally finished, but she blushed a bright red by her comment. She had forgotten that in some sense, Roland was just a child. Her mum had explained a bit further while Roland was working on the house. The damage that was caused to his brain did leave some permanent effects, including the lack of shame and something else. He had forgotten a lot of things, including how to read, which really scared Hermione. The ability to read was a hard earned skill, one that didn't go away easily. If it could happen to Roland, then it could happen to her. That made her even more upset about what she said about Roland.
"And is that a bad thing?" Harry replied. "He's just having fun." Harry seemed to understand it without knowing all the facts. Funny, how he could say the right thing to make her feel better. "Besides, you get really cute when you're angry." Hermione's face turned bright red, whether from anger or embarrassment, but she didn't get a chance to say something to Harry for he was already gone. God, men made her so angry at times. But she doubted that she would want to live without them. Hermione didn't move from her chair when she heard the piano playing upstairs. Roland was upset about something, Hermione knew that much, but also knew better then to ask what it was.
* * * * * *
Harry found Roland in the guest room, only now there was a piano where the beds were. He had packed away all his clothes in the closet, leaving room for Ron. Roland had transfigured the queen size bed into two twin beds, giving one for Harry and Ron when he came. He had watched Roland play a bit, his hands gliding over the keys and creating a dark mystic melody. "You play?" Harry asked as he stood in the doorway. Roland had his back to Harry when he finally spoke.
The music didn't stop. "I had to learn how to work my fingers again after the crash. Griping a pen or pencil took a while, but this was almost second nature I found. The therapist thought that I just had natural talent, but I doubt that it was that. I had to practice a long time to be able to play like this." There was a short pause before another unnamed piece echoed the room. "I've played for about eight years now, since their death."
"Whose?" Harry asked.
"My parents were killed in the same crash that crippled me and left me brain-dead," Roland spoke with no feeling, as if he didn't care about it.
"So sound as if you aren't upset about it?" Harry couldn't help but say.
"You can't change the past, Harry," Roland said, "even when the events are horrible, they have happened for a reason." He continued to play, and swayed with the music.
"So you're saying that the death of Sirius and my parents were planned?" Harry snapped without thinking.
"No," the music paused, "I mean that they died because you needed to grow up fast, what better way then making a child an orphan. At ten, I had the mind of a thirty year old in responsibility, Harry. Hell, even if you didn't have much of a childhood, I can't even remember mine. So who's to say that I did?" The music started again, this time with anger. The pace was rapid and Roland's fingers were flying over the keys. "They say that it's better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all. But what's the point of loving if you can't remember it? If anything, it makes the hurt worse. Believe me Harry, you were one of the few lucky orphans." Roland stormed out of the room, but the music didn't stop. Instead, it slowly died down into nothingness.
How dare he say I'm lucky? Harry thought. He was pissed off at the man for saying that his life was harder then living with the Dursley's. They put him through a living hell. Barely eating, working hard, with no love. Roland at least knew life. But what's the point of loving if you can't remember it? Roland's words echoed in Harry's mind. Harry knew that was true. At least Harry knew that his parents loved him, he felt it inside. Same with Sirius. But what Roland said also left a larger impression. He had no memory prior to his accident. How bad was that accident? Harry couldn't help but think. He turned and watched Roland go down the stairs and out the door.
Some more footsteps came up the stairs, and Harry saw that it was Hermione. "What was that about?" she asked.
"To tell you the truth," Harry said, "I don't know." He looked back down the stairs. "I was talking with him for a moment before he stormed off."
"I take it was his past?" Hermione replied.
"Sort of. We were talking about his family." Hermione looked shocked. "What?"
"You got him to talk about Aunt Kris and Uncle Rhys?" Harry nodded. "What did he say?"
"He was playing the piano when he started to talk about how he learned to play. He then continued to say that they died in the same crash that crippled him and left him brain-dead." Hermione didn't seem worried about this. "Then he had to go and say that everything happens for a reason." There was a long pause in the conversation.
"The reason isn't always there at the time of the event," Hermione said meekly. She was staring at her feet, refusing to look at Harry. "But a reason is there, nonetheless." Harry glared at Hermione, and when she finally looked up at him, she said, "It's something that Granger women drive into the heads of their children for whatever reason." She smiled weakly. "For me, it was when I first saw Roland, about six months before the accident. He's the one who got me really into reading. Gave me about twenty books that Christmas." She gave a short laugh.
"Before that Christmas, we went to a family reunion in Florida. My other cousins weren't very nice to me, making fun of me because of my teeth and my bushy hair." Hermione wiped a tear from her eyes. Harry crossed the room, and locked his arms around her. "Roland was the only person besides the adults who was nice to me. He took me on walks down at the beach, gave me piggyback rides, and was the first real friend that I had. When we came back for Christmas, I was a bit upset that I couldn't see him again. But Christmas morning, I saw a huge stack of presents, all more me. My parents were shocked to see it." She laughed, but that didn't stop the tears. "I was going to visit him during the summer, but the crash happened." Hermione began to sob, but didn't stop her story. "When I heard what happen, I was so devastated. He was my best friend my only friend. I was so scared; from the news that we got, he was legally dead for over ten minutes." The tears didn't stop, and Harry just rubbed her back. "It was that day that I hide myself in books; I refused to be allowed to be hurt like that again." Hermione pulled away, and wiped some of her tears again. A smile crossed her face and a laugh came from her. "Funny, I never realized that it was my fault I didn't have many friends in the first place."
"But back to the reason I was telling you this story," Hermione said. "Roland is the reason that
I'm so smart. In a way, he's the reason why I'm friends with you and Ron. So his accident did have a
reason, Harry. And as much as I hate to say it…" she trailed off, but Harry knew what she was going to say. It had
to due with Sirius and his parents' deaths. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, Hermione was right.
Again. "As I said, it's a thing that Grangers push on their children. Dad did it with me, and Aunt Kris must
have done it with Roland." Harry noticed for the first time that Hermione had worn make up. Her tears had smeared
the mascara that she was wearing. There was something different about her face today.
"When did you start wearing makeup?" Harry asked.
"Oh, this," Hermione touched her face. He was right; she was wearing makeup. "How did you notice?"
"It's running," Harry replied. She gasped as she touched her face and pulled her hand away to see the mascara on it. "And besides, there was something different about you today." Hermione smiled at him.
"Thank you," she paused for a moment, "Ron doesn't even notice."
"He'll notice in time," Harry said without thinking. "Just give it to him." He placed a hand on her cheek and stroked it with his thumb. "You are very sweet and would make a perfect girlfriend."
"Thanks." Hermione seemed to lean into Harry's hand, but neither noticed. They just stared into each other's eyes.
"Hermione, your father's home," Mrs. Granger shouted from downstairs. The two of them snapped out of their trance, and they blushed a bright red. They refused to look at each other.
"Give me a few minutes," Hermione finally said, "I need to fix my makeup, and then I'll take you down to meet my dad." She was out of the room in a blink of an eye, and Harry was left standing there, thinking about what just had happened. Hermione looked beautiful today and Harry had never seen her like that before. What was happening to him?
Hermione introduced Harry to her dad, and he thought that Harry was Ron. That happened and left two red, baffled teenagers in the living room as Mr. Granger left the room. Mrs. Granger cooked them dinner and for the first time since he had eaten with the Weasleys, Harry felt at home. The Grangers were kind, and with a few hints from Hermione, they stayed away from touchy subjects. And Harry answered with a smile as they talked about some milder adventures they had at Hogwarts. It was so long since he smiled with good friends.
After dinner, Hermione took Harry out back to see the moonrise and the stars appeared in the sky. It never occurred to her that he had never even seen a sunset before. The back of the house was facing a large open plain and the sun was setting just beyond the horizon. "Wow," was all that Harry could say. Hermione leaned into him as they stared out. He wrapped an arm around her without thinking. The silence was all the words that they need to be happy, and it gave the most comfort. Harry felt a tear and wished, probably for the thousandth time, to have his parents back.
"So cute isn't it," Her mum said standing in the doorway. She felt a quick breeze of cold air, and knew that her nephew was near.
"They have no idea," he said, "but leave them in their false worlds."
"Why?" She wanted to turn around, but felt that it was better not to do so. "They should-" Roland wouldn't be there anymore if she did move. His voice held some tension in it, as if he was upset about something.
"It's better to keep some in the dark and their happiness whole," Roland replied, "instead of crushing it in a single moment." He was talking of Ron. The boy would be crushed if he found out that Hermione loved her other best friend. "Besides, neither knows." Mary gasped at his comment. "Love is blind, Aunt Mary. It's best-" Roland stopped talking for a moment and Mary could almost envision him turning his head towards something.
"I need to go; all is taken care of for Ronald when he comes. He should be arriving by a muggle bus with Dumbledore and an old friend of mine. If I'm not back by then, you should give my friend the note I left on the table. Don't read it, just give it too him. What's in it doesn't concern you or Ron." Mary noticed how he left out Harry and Hermione's names. "Please just do this for me. And if a girl calls for me…" Roland trailed off for a moment. "Tell her that my heart and soul are hers to command, and I will never leave her." The cold wind returned, this time from the back. Roland had gone off in that direction.
Mary learned a lot in the past few days, and one of them was that her intuition was often right. So she was right about her daughter and her friend. It seemed so obvious to her and her husband, but to them it was nothing new. She smiled at the couple as they came be in, and vowed not to tease them anymore about it. After all, Roland was right. She didn't want Ron to be hurt when he found out that his friends were in love.
"Coming in so soon?" she asked. "The sun hasn't full set yet." Harry quickly released Hermione, and she moved a bit away from him.
"It got cold." Hermione looked back at the sun set and sighed, upset by something, but her mother didn't press for information. Mary figured that her daughter just wanted to stand close with Harry some more or something like that.
"Yeah," Harry quickly add, "plus it's been a long day." He looked at Hermione, and smiled.
"I have to get some reading done," Hermione said, "but you're right." She returned the smile to Harry and they just stared at each other. Mary shook her head. How could they not notice it? Maybe it was because of the blood that ran through. Roland said there was something special about it and that was the only obvious explanation to it.
"You two go in and get to bed." Mary said, "Ron's coming early tomorrow, around eight." Hermione had an excited look on her face while Harry's looked down and upset. She knew that he was going to feel left out. Hopefully, Roland would get home that night so Mary could talk with him about Harry. She didn't want a child dying, especially one under her care.
As they walked inside, Mary thought about how Harry looked. He took it hard when she said that Ron was coming at eight. It looked like Harry was enjoying himself and it was quite possible that this dating between his two best friends hurt him deeper then he realized. How could Hermione be so blind about that hurt her friend so much? Mary decided that Hermione was mistaking what Harry was upset about for something else. It was the only reasonable explanation towards her daughter's actions. But there was nothing that she could do, as Roland asked that she stay out of it. But that didn't mean Marry would like it.
* * * * * *
A telephone rang downstairs and woke Harry. He was groggy and wiped his eyes. Reaching for his glasses in a daze, Harry placed them on and looked at the clock. It read a little past one in the morning. His room was pitch-black. It rang again. Harry grunted and got out of bed. Odd how the only phone that was ringing was the one downstairs.
He walked down stairs and saw a light coming from the kitchen. Harry turned the corner and saw a laptop on the kitchen counter, turning on and searching for something. Screens kept popping up on it, as if it was looking for something. The ringing had stopped, and Harry heard footsteps coming from the living room. He quickly went back to the stairs and hung against the wall. And there he waited
No one came. Odd, Harry thought. Someone should have at least come, and then what were the footsteps? It
was impossible; someone had to be there. And Roland said it himself; no magic could be performed on these grounds. So
that meant no apparating. But no one was here. All the possibilities ran through Harry's mind and none of them
seemed logical. Other than walking through the wall. The front door opened and in walked a man whom Harry thought was
Roland.
"Why does duty have to call at the worst time?" Roland said as he walked into the kitchen. Harry watched as Roland walked over the fridge and opened it up, adding even more light to the room. He pulled out some leftovers and took a seat at the laptop. He pressed a button and watched the computer scan something. "I suggest you stop standing in the door way if you want answers, Harry." Stepping out from behind the wall, Harry was shocked. How did Roland know that Harry was there? It wasn't possible. "Oh, Harry, all things are possible. You just have to open your mind to them." There was a long period of silence as Roland continued to eat and work on the laptop.
"Where were you?" Harry finally asked.
"Working," Roland said; he didn't move from the table.
"Working?" Harry replied. His answer didn't really answer much about where he was
"Working." Roland pulled out a flask from his pocket and took a big drink from it. "Are you going to ask your question?"
"I didn't know I had a question," Harry replied.
"Well, you do, so ask it."
"If you know that I have question, then you can answer it for me." Truth was Harry had no idea what his question was.
"It's not like I can read minds, Harry." Roland placed his flask down on the table, and began to type something.
"Then how did you-"
"Empathic abilities allow a person to feel what others are feeling," Roland started, "So I didn't read your mind; I felt that you were confused about something. And confusion often leads to questions. So ask away." The computer screen was changing rapidly.
"Fine," Harry said, "what is your job?" It wasn't a good question, but at least it was a question.
"It's very complicated, Harry," Roland sighed. "You're not ready for to know what I do yet. Just-" a beeper went off and Roland pulled it out of his pocket. "Damn. Harry, just know that there is a whole other world out there, one that makes Voldemort look like a mouse." Harry watched as Roland stood up, and the computer disappeared, as did the container on the table. All that was left was a note. "Give this to Aunt Mary if I don't make it back by eight." Roland was gone, as if he disapparated from the house, which couldn't happen because no magic.
This is just getting confusing, Harry thought, as he walked back upstairs to the guest room. What did Roland mean when he said that there is another world out there? Is that even possible? He fell asleep quickly as if it was casted upon him. His dreams were silent as the shadows and calm as the Pacific Ocean. Over all it was the best night's sleep that he had had in a long time.
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