Thank you very much for the reviews! I did get several correct guesses as to who the stranger is. I guess that you'll just have to read on and see! Please continue to review. Reviews only serve to encourage the author.
Note: The short italicized section is Harry's flashback.
See Chapter 1 for Disclaimer.
Harry froze.
Hermione, on the other hand, turned a very vibrant pink. She clapped a hand to her mouth, and giggled. She knew that voice.
Harry knew the voice, too, but it didn't register. He was sure that he'd heard it before, but he didn't know who it could be. It wasn't any of his professors, and he was fairly sure it wasn't a housemate, but the person apparently had known his father. He was confused, and although the person did not show herself immediately, Hermione was laughing harder than before. She was now laughing hysterically. He shot her a questioning look, but her eyes were closed. "Hermione?" he asked, quickly and slightly sharply. "What the hell is going on here?"
Her eyes flashed open at his coarse language, and she laughed even harder. "I... told... you and Ron... you... really... shouldn't... curse..." she managed to get out in between laughs.
The mysterious voice laughed, very lightly. "It is inappropriate to curse in certain company, something that your father never seemed to understand. What is it with men and manners?"
Hermione was truly choking now. Harry was near furious. Why couldn't he place that voice? "Where- no, who are you?" he yelled at nothing in particular.
He heard the light, bubbly laugh once more, and he thought hard about the voice. He looked around, and saw her, a figure across the lake. He squinted- maybe he needed new glasses- to try to see her better. What he saw, however, he was completely unprepared for. His eyes went wide, and his heart stopped in his chest.
"No, it can't be," he whispered to himself. He blinked, and thought back to third year. He couldn't have seen what he thought he'd seen. In third year, when he'd seen his father, it had really been his own reflection. But whose reflection could this be? A wild thought in his heart told him that it was real, but his head knew it wasn't. "You can't be," he whispered, even more quietly than before.
She laughed again. "Yes, actually, Harry, I can."
Harry looked away for a second, as if to make sure that she would still be there when he looked back. Hermione was still doubled over with laughter, and was mumbling things that, while mostly incoherent, included "first time," "cursing," and "mother."
No. It couldn't be. Not within logical thought, and Harry was sick of false hope, like seeing his father in third year, or looking for Sirius as a ghost. There was no way.
"Yes, Harry, there is a way, and you don't have to believe me if you don't want to, but I think that you want to."
It was impossible.
"Not impossible. Highly unlikely. Very improbable. But not impossible." The voice sounded very happy, and gave the impression that the woman across the lake was smiling.
This had to be in Harry's head. All of this... just couldn't be. He couldn't trust in another piece of false joy, of visions that he only desired, but could never be true. He had to stop this dream.
"This isn't a dream, Harry. It is absolutely serious, and absolutely real. I am not a vision. I am a shadow. Believe in the impossible."
Once more, Harry closed his eyes. Hermione had stopped laughing now, and had put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Let her in, Harry. She's real. It's OK," she whispered to him.
He opened his eyes, slowly and deliberately, and she was still there. He felt Hermione rub his shoulder gently in reassurance. Swallowing hard, he said, very quietly, "Mum?"
The figure made her way, very gracefully, around the lake. As she got closer, Harry's heart rose into his throat. She approached, a great smile gracing her face. She was a shadowy, sinewy woman, lithe and pretty, and slightly translucent. Her face showed youth and her hair cascaded in auburn waves down her back. She was beautiful in a tragic sort of way, and her eyes were very open and inviting. They were stunning emeralds, and they held her identity.
"Yes, Harry," was her simple, kind answer.
"Merlin... Mum," was all that he could get out, quietly, and with a great deal of emotion in his words. Hermione squeezed his shoulder, then removed her hand. Lily moved over to her son, and hugged him tightly, for the first time that Harry could remember. Hermione smiled, and tears formed in her eyes.
Lily held Harry out at arms' length and looked him over. "You really do have my eyes," she remarked, with a chuckle in her voice. Harry looked at his feet for a second, and then brought his gaze back to her eyes.
"Mum..." he said, before trailing off. He had so many things to say to her, to tell her, and even more to ask her. He didn't know where to start, as he'd never really been faced with the situation of talking to his mother, sixteen years after her death. Yes, he'd seen his father and Sirius, but they were in his dreams; he'd been asleep, and he knew that dreams could take a person anywhere. This wasn't a dream. He cleared his throat, but his voice was still cracked, as he said the first thing that came to his very confused and overwhelmed mind. "How are you here?"
Lily smiled again. "Good question. It wasn't easy. You of course remember that witches and wizards can preserve themselves, memories of their living selves in inanimate objects. You had a great deal of experience with that aspect of preservation, I'd say, through your experience with Tom Riddle and his diary. He had put himself in the diary. When I knew how much danger that we were in, we took several precautions. First, of course, was the Fidelius Charm, to protect us. Even with the charm, though, I knew that there was a chance of discovery. We switched our Secret-Keeper to Peter Pettigrew because Sirius was too strong, and we knew that no one would suspect Pettigrew of being the Secret-Keeper. But still, I was worried... there was just something about Pettigrew. Also, with the prophecy saying what it did, we knew that you would be in considerable, mortal danger at least once more in your life. I chose to put you under a protection spell, and a very strong one at that. I chose one that would draw protection from more than one source- it would protect you with my love, but it needed more. Of course, you were a baby, and I didn't know who the spell would choose for the other person who would love you and complete the spell. The spell knew, though. When I cast the spell, I knew that someone else would also be affected, and it would be a someone who you would become very close to. The spell was activated when... well, when I died. I found out afterwards who the spell went to. It went to Hermione, as you both know. Since I knew when I cast the spell that the spell would only be necessary if I was dead, I knew I needed a way to communicate with the other recipient of the spell, even if I was not alive. I know that Professor Dumbledore told you that Order members lived on in death, as long as was necessary, hence the name Order of the Phoenix- we were dead, but reborn in another way. Because of that, I would be able to communicate with Hermione, but only in her sleep. Since it was obvious to me that she would not be asleep during the final battle--" she smiled and Hermione grinned back, while Harry just sat on a rock, unmoving "-- I knew I needed a way to be able to talk to her when she was awake."
Harry seemed to regain some of his thought processes, and began to glance between Hermione and his mother. He sensed that Hermione knew something that she wasn't telling him. He knew her long enough to be able to read her expressions; they could communicate nonverbally. He looked, confused and mildly annoyed that he didn't know what was going on, at the two women. He looked Hermione up and down, as if trying to find something on her that would help him solve this mystery. Nothing.
Something caught his eye, though. He could see a fine, gold chain hanging from her neck, though he couldn't see what hung on it, as it dove into the front of her shirt. Hermione had never really been one to wear jewelry, except at balls. The last time that he recalled seeing her wear a necklace... he thought hard. The first thought that came to mind was the Time Turner. Then he remembered it.
She'd been wearing a gold chain at the final battle. He remembered asking her when they'd been getting ready to leave Hogwarts.
The room was quiet. It was filled with witches and wizards, hundreds and hundreds of them, but the air held a sense of foreboding. Harry sat crouched in a corner of the room, staring into space.
"It's going to be OK," he heard Hermione say, to no one in particular. Harry turned to look at her. There was an unreadable expression on her face, but she showed great composure and bravery. She didn't notice his gaze, and her eyes were unfocused in concentration. One hand was absentmindedly clutching a pendant, stroking the thin gold chain that it hung on.
"Amulet?" Harry asked quietly. Hermione had never really believed in the imprecise power and philosophical importance of amulets, but he figured that she might have turned to them now.
She sighed and turned to look into his eyes. "Sort of," she said even more softly. He knew, he could tell, she was afraid, but at the same time, she wasn't. She was ready, and she didn't fear Voldemort. She feared losing the people that she loved. He also knew that buried inside her was an incredible amount of courage, intelligence, speed, fire, and common sense, along with compassion.
No more words were necessary. They sat in silence, waiting for the signal, waiting to meet their destinies.
Harry cleared his throat. "Hermione, that necklace isn't an amulet, is it?" He asked her, although he thought he knew what her answer would be.
She looked down and took the pendant out of her shirt, holding it in her hand. "Not really. It is for luck, and has some magical powers, so it is like an amulet, but... not in the traditional sense." She loosened her grip on the pendant, and dropped it to the full length of the chain. Harry approached her slowly, and reached out to take the small charm in his hand, remotely feeling the heartbeat of the wearer. He blushed, and turned his attention to the charm. It was a delicately cut single ruby, which caught the light perfectly. It was a rich burgundy color, and, on the front, was engraved with a gold phoenix. "I... I didn't know what it was at first. I thought it just was an amulet, to begin with... I didn't know what it really was until a few days before the battle," she offered softly.
"Harry, before we were betrayed, I made this. I Transfigured it from a two-way Order mirror with magical qualities, much like the one that Sirius gave you. I preserved myself, my memory, my soul in that pendant, as Riddle did with the diary. Once I had finished the magical transfer of some of myself into the charm, I put it on a chain and in a special box with locking charms that would only open when in the hands of the person who had received the other end of my protection spell. Since I didn't know who that person would be, I couldn't exactly hand-deliver it. So I put another charm on the box, one that would connect it to the protection spell. That way, it too would be bound to Hermione. Once I got the signal that the battle was approaching, I needed a way to get it to her."
Hermione smiled. "I found the box in the fireplace on Christmas morning."
Harry looked puzzled. "That's not strange, though. The presents are all taken from the Owlery and put on the hearths and rugs in the Common Room."
Hermione laughed. "Somehow I don't think that it came from the Owlery. I found it in the fireplace. In the fireplace, where there was a fire burning." Harry raised an eyebrow.
Lily grinned. "I couldn't very well send it by owl. I performed a Flame-Freezing Charm on the package, and waited for the minute that Fawkes would come. He always comes every few months, for a split second, right after he bursts into flame. We can't send things with Fawkes, though, because he is not an owl and he can't carry packages when he is reborn. I'm not sure why he took this one, I just know that he did, without being asked, and in that flash of time that he was with us. He rebirthed in the Gryffindor fireplace, dropped the package, and somehow- I still don't know how- got back into the Headmaster's office. Brilliant."
Harry shook his head. This was all so unreal. His mother, or a shadow of his mother, was standing before him, talking about Professor Dumbledore's phoenix.
"Anyway, I had been visiting Hermione in her sleep, while James and Sirius visited you. But I didn't tell her about the pendant."
"I found it on Christmas morning," said Hermione. "I didn't know what to do with it- I mean, I was worried it was cursed or something, it had just fallen out of the fire. Professor McGonagall was in a meeting, so I went straight to Professor Dumbledore. I... I showed it to him, and he looked it over. He told me that it was a good idea that I wear it. He didn't tell me differently, so I thought it was an amulet. I trust him, so I put it on. I haven't taken it off since."
"And that brings us to the original question, how I'm here. My memory was able to get out of the pendant only after Voldemort was vanquished, just as Riddle's couldn't come out until the Chamber of Secrets was opened again. I had intended to guide Hermione in the final task, if she chose to accept it, and then talk to you, Harry, face to face, for once. To explain, and to catch up. It's been hard watching you grow up from a distance, with you not knowing that I was there. So really, I'm here because Hermione is wearing that necklace, because you vanquished Voldemort, and because the three of us have a lot to talk about." Lily smiled youthfully, and put a finger under Harry's chin, forcing him to look into her eyes. The eyes that people had been telling him about since he was eleven. His mother's eyes. He was overcome with many emotions at once.
He swallowed hard and took a deep breath, as if he had been holding his breath throughout the entire story. He looked at the shadow woman, and it occurred to him that this woman was his mother. A mother that loved him and cared for him and died for him. A mother that he had lived most of his life not knowing, but when he looked at her, it all clicked.
Suddenly, he blushed bright red. He glanced over at Hermione, who seemed to think that this scene was a beautiful moment. He remembered how his mother had appeared, when she had appeared, and Hermione's reaction.
"Uh, Mum?" he asked, as if it was a foreign word to him. "I... I didn't mean to... well... I didn't know it was you... it was... you startled me... I'm sorry... that I... you know... cursed at you... it's a really bad thing that the first time in my memorable life that I meet my mother, I curse at her."
Hermione stifled a laugh, but Lily allowed herself to laugh wholeheartedly. "I did always know that you were your father's son, but I do have to admit that I was hoping that you would not acquire some of his... less flattering qualities," she remarked to him, smiling broadly.
Kudos to everyone, especially those of you who guessed correctly. Please review.
-Menucha