The Calypso Charm.

5.
In which the Headmaster answers a few questions.

At that moment, Albus began to examine his very tattered pair of bunny slippers to allow time for the potions master to calm down. He was beginning to count the threads on his duster when Snape exploded with;

“It seems” he started harshly “that you have no wish to protect the boy. I made some of those charms you took him from so blithely. This is not ‘happily ever after’ Albus. For our sake, and his, he must be returned to the muggles!” Panting, and quite red in the face, Snape glowered.

An awkward silence followed, in which there was much interest in the floor.

It was not often Albus Dumbledore found himself without words, or challenged in his decision.

And so, instead of a suspension, or firing Dumbledore smiled for the first time in many months. Many students thought him insane, or slightly mad, but most just found him genius.

It is said, a philosopher wrote in a tiny hut many miles from anywhere, that ‘genius and insanity run hand in hand. Or rather, they frolic with a dreamy smile on their preverbal faces.’

“Harry does not need their protection any longer. Any charms set up have long been exhausted, and he will not gain anything from being there. I have not seen any place worse for any child than the Dursley’s.”
Albus said quietly, a serious expression chiseled into his features.
“Serveus. Please try to understand. We can not have a champion if he dies of starvation. The ‘boy’ as you call him has his own protection.”

McGonnagle huffed. “I tried to explain-”

“Yes, Minerva, I know.” He glanced down at his thin, steepled hands. Suddenly, he leaned forward in an excited manner, blue eyes twinkling in the candlelight.
“Do you not see? This could all be over before we ever thought it would! Before anyone could have expected!”

“But Headmaster, we cannot push Harry. Remember what happened to Venipar the Powerful?” McGonnagle said quietly.

“Yes. I know. His powers consumed him. I taught Tom Riddle, if you’ll recall.”

” His voice had lost its enthusiasm, and grew quiet.

After a few moments Dumbledore said simply “Thank you, I had quite gotten ahead of myself.”

“We all have.” She threw a glance to Snape.

He bowed, saying “I bid you good night.” Saying that, he was gone with a slight swirl of his cloak. The deputy headmistress left with a tilt of her head. The candlelight in the room grew dimmer, and the sky outside grew lighter.

6. Where Hermione speaks french, and makes a charm.
“Bonjour. Vous desirez?” The waitress asked swiftly.
“Une glace, s’il vous plait.” Hermione replied, barely glancing up from her book.

An old wizard had sold her Hogwarts, a History. First edition for a very reasonable price. Only after testing her knowledge on all other editions, and random facts did she earn the book though. He was a kindly man, and Hermione wished her parents dentist conference had lasted longer.

Finishing her ice-cream, she stood and stretched. At that moment, a small furry object collided with her chest.

“Pig!” She exclaimed happily.
“H-
How’s Paris? Dad is planning on getting Harry tomorrow. See you then.
Ron.”

Hermione carefully folded the bit of parchment, and smiled. Placing it in her pocket, she began to walk towards the hotel.

The attendant at the desk smiled and handed her an envelope.

“Miss Granger,
After speaking with Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, we have been assured that your are performing magic under his instruction. He will be held accountable for anything that might go wrong.
Having said that, at three o’clock this afternoon until four, your magical restrictions shall be lifted.
Jean-Luc DeMendiant
Head of Foreign Magic.”

Hermione read quickly, a smile growing on her face. She ran up the stairs, not bothering with an elevator.

Half an hour later, Hermione poured all of herself into the charm. The memories of teas and blood she had shed for Harry, every happy memory she had, and even some she borrowed, every one for him. Exhausted, she examined the charm she had made. It was perfect, a rather ordinary sphere, somewhere at the heart of the amber liquid a light shone pulsing.

Still pleased with herself the next morning, Hermione quickly packed her things, and said goodbye to her parents. She flooed the the Burrow
where she would remain for the rest of the summer.

7. Where Harry remembers, and the summer continues.

The night went on, but Harry felt as if he were in a dream. Yawing to the third time, he heard his jaw crack. Apparently so did Mrs. Weasley. “Time for bed, I think.” Harry had never heard more intelligent words.

And so, when everyone had settled in, and the lights were all off, Harry couldn’t sleep. He rolled over quite a bit and sighed a great many times, yet still he could not sleep. He pulled out his necklace and held it between his fingertips.

They objects he had seen earlier had settled, yet the odd amber glow still pulsed dimly. What had the note said? He thought. The right snitch wing.

Gently, with great care Harry sat up. Pulling the tiny wing, he almost gasped. A beam of light hat shot out from the globe. It whirred softly and began to spin slowly. Images of him, a small frightened pale boy, a taller red head, images of Hogwarts, small scenes he could vaguely recall.

And then, memories from someone else: the three of them sitting on the edge of the lake, laughing. At some of the images, Harry laughed silently, others made a look of melancholy cross his. When the images reached the beginning, Harry was again smiling. The light dimmed and the charm returned to it’s normal state.

Harry was then able to sleep.

The next morning, Harry awoke to a very excited Pig, and a rather disgruntled snowy owl. She hooted at him.

“Hey girl.” He said happily. Well, he would have anyway. It came out more sounding like “Mfay groel.”

Breakfast had come and gone while Harry slept, and he found Hermione at the kitchen table.

“Good morning Harry, sleep well?” Hermione asked, looking up from her book.

“Morning.” He muttered sleepily, nodding in response to her question.
He sat down heavily in an ancient wooden chair, his hands folded in his lap.

“Hungry.” He said, almost hopeful.

She laughed, and handed him a bowl from the middle of the table.
“Mrs. Weasley put a heating charm on it for you.” Harry accepted it gratefully. “Thank you.” Was all he could get out before he started eating.

Hermione observed him as he ate. She noted his quick manner, rather like a god who expects his food to be taken. She also noted the light blue circles around his eyes.

“Harry?” She said tentatively.
“Hmm?” He said, still concentrating his efforts on the rapidly disappearing porridge.
“Did you try out your gift?” She asked, anxious to hear his reply, yet at the same time fearing his rejection.
“Yes.” He said slowly.
“And?” She said, somewhat more persistent now.

He pushed his bowl away and looked at her. Food seemed to help. His coloring had gone from white, to a faint pink tinge on his cheeks.
“I very much enjoyed it, thank you. I will treasure it forever.” He said honestly.

It was a rather picturesque moment. Harry in his pajamas, large and gray, with hair more tousled than normal and slightly askew glasses. He sat with an air of uncertainty, as if he didn’t know whether to be comfortable or ready to spring up at any moment. And Hermione, sitting relaxed in a nice blouse and loose corduroy pants. Both of them sitting at the table, on a bright summer morning, with sunlight streaming in. A ray of sunlight danced across the table.

All at once though, that solace was shattered by four arguing red heads. Hermione smiled at him from across the table, and closed her book.

“I don’t think so Gin.” One of the twins said.
“No one wants your tomato sandwiches anyway!” Ron said amiably.

The bickering over what they were having for lunch continued until Molly Weasley appeared from the depths of the house to make grilled cheese for everyone.

Quidditch was played, and Harry was relieved to find he fell into place easily.

The days continued and Harry found, as every year that he had only a few days remaining until term started.

8. In which the summer ends with a kiss.

When everyone had gone to bed, Harry slipped quietly outside. He loved to watch the landscape at night, and the sky lighten before dawn. He felt someone lower beside him.

“Hey.” He said, not averting his gaze.
“Why do you say ‘hey’ like that?” She asked, curious.
“Like what?” He replied.
“Like you know it’s me?”
“Well. It is you.” He turned to her, and smiled. His face and hers oddly pale in the moonlight.

She put her arms around her knees.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” She questioned, after a moment of silence.
“I could ask you the same.” Harry countered.
She grinned.
“Ah, but I asked first.” Hermione said, arms hugging her knees.

After a moment, he replied.. though not the answer Hermione was expecting.

“I have bad dreams. Nightmares, I suppose.” He said this barely above a whisper. His words were so child like, his expression so vulnerable that she couldn’t stop herself from giving him a hug. It was an awkward hug, sideways.

“What are they.” It was not a question. Hermione felt that would be too demanding. They sat on the edge of the night for a few moments. Moonlight fell over the surrounding hills, to their backs was the kitchen window that was still letting out soft light.

Harry leaned back, into the yellow glow of the kitchen’s light. “I see my parents. Young, happy. But every time I reach out for them they slip away. Like trying to hold water in your hands, they slip away. I see Voldemort. Faces of the people he murdered.”

“Oh Harry.” Hermione said after a moment.

His head dropped, running his hands through his hair he said “They always go away.”
Uncertain she reached out, her hand stroking his hair. He was cool to the touch, and she instinctively drew closer to him.

They sat this way for many minutes until suddenly he looked up.

The sky had gone from a dark purple to a light slate blue. Tinges of pink were starting to appear in the sky.

They stood at the same time, and turned to each other.
“Good night Hermione.” He said softly, his face eerily pale again in the light. She kissed his cheek.
“Good night Harry.” They embraced, and noiselessly made their way to bed, respectively.

It surprised Hermione in the morning how much had changed, and how little everything had changed at the same time. In the sunlight everything was different. Their little chat in the moonlight seemed like a dream to Hermione. The tired lines on Harry’s face, and the slight sunburn Hermione had gotten the day before had gone unnoticed in the night.

They said nothing to each other about the night before, yet each understood the other. It was a silent communication that everyone in the household seemed to understand.

9. Where Ron is confused.

A conversation took place between Ginny and Ron a day before they left for school.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” The youngest Weasley asked, almost frustrated.
“Doesn’t what bother me?” Ron replied with vague interest. He was attempting to repair a muggle radio with a WD-I-Y(Wizard’s Do it Yourself.)

“Harry and Hermione!” She said as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.
“I was one of Hermione’s friends, I thought. Yet I can’t understand what they are.” The latter sentence was added with a someone saddened air.

“Oh. That.” Ron stood up, wiping his hands on his already dirty pants.

“Gin, Harry and Hermione have always been just that. Harry and Hermione. They weren’t fated to be together, there was no prophecy. They just are. And I.. love them for that.”

He had surprised her. His blue eyes were frank, truthful. Although the last sentence was said a bit hesitantly, Ginny blinked a few time, hugged Ron and ran out of the dark tool shop. She left behind a very baffled Ron.



A/N: Aw.. I love Ron. I think people underestimate him! Also.. Dumbledore isn’t ancient..wanted to point that out. I couldn’t resist putting the scene of Hermione in. It wasn’t really needed.. and I wasn’t sure about having it there.. but.. PARIS! Oh, and sorry if the french is grammatically incorrect.. Been a while since French one(Which is sad.. I’m in French three.) Er, I have a question for whoever leaves a review; why do Hermione’s parents let her stay at the Burrow in the books? They sure are lenient. Anyway.. Until next time..STAY TUNED!