Chapter Four: Arrival
"It'll be okay Hermione," Luna said. Aurors had rushed the train once it reached the station, and the frightened first years carried off quickly. There were no injures, save one and they were currently searching for the infamous Harry Potter. "They'll find him. Maybe he's already started to walk here, found the tracks." Hermione nodded, trying to dry her eyes.
"Just get over it Hermione," Ron said, shaking his head. Hermione glared at him opening her mouth to say something, but it was stopped by someone else.
"Where is he?" a worried old man said, coming through the crowd. Hermione recognized him immediately. There was a great deal of fear and sadness in his eyes, but no other emotion. "Why was I contacted?"
"Mister Pennyworth, please, excuse us, we need to do our job," an Auror said, brushing him off. The old man glared at the young one, his stony look coming over to him.
"Have you seen him, miss," Mister Pennyworth said, directing the question toward Hermione, who only started to cry harder. She shook her head through the tears.
"He stood up and stopped them from hurting me," Hermione managed to get out. "They've yet to find his body." A smile appeared on his face. He held out his arms, showing the compassion not unlike a grandfather would. Hermione fell into to them, letting herself relax as the old man, who knew Harry so well, tried to calm her down.
"Then be proud Miss, you saw him at his rarest," he whispered softly. He pulled back and smiled once more. "He is alive."
"How do you know that, sir?" Hermione said as the man let her go.
"Call me Alfred, and they have yet to find his body," Alfred gave a grim chuckle. "He is too stubborn to die." He walked away, toward the school, as if already knowing something. Hermione stopped crying, watching the odd man walk toward the school.
"You," an Auror said, pointing his wand toward them. "Move along." The group was pushed toward the carriages, which Luna said were pulled by Thestrals, though Hermione never saw them. It only proved what Alfred had said. That Harry was alive, because only those who witnessed a death could see them.
I0I
Harold walked beside the tracks patiently. He had seen the scouts, but they missed his by miles. His body felt like it was on fire and knowing the plans for the school, knew he only had another hundred yards before reaching his breaking off point. There they either had to find him, or he'd have to sprint the remaining mile through the forest to get to the school.
The storm had passed, not long after he left the train. It did not feel right for him to stay there; it did not feel normal to let them see him like that. His clothes were back to their torn form, with his towel and favorite book back in his expandable background. His body was on fire, and he did not have the strength to put his right shoulder back into the socket. It slapped against his leg as he walked, ignoring the pain.
The tracks were gone; he'd have to spring now. He did not have much strength left, and only knew that a straight path was his ticket out of this place. He hoped there were no trees in his way. Looking up at the moonless sky above, he took off, the fires upon his muscles even greater than ever during his training.
Dodging the trees, he paused after a moment, catching his breath. Normally, his mile was under six minutes, he was halfway there and it was already five minutes. He had to make it; he had to make it. He would not miss his first day at school because of some damn attempt on his life. He looked at the broken watch on his arm, cursing his great misfortune of the evening.
The dark night had surround the woods, and Harold felt himself encompassed by it as well. It was all around him, feeding on the fear of this new creature in the woods. He walked down, not having the strength to run. Each step echoed in the dimming woods, and each step brought forth more fear into the forest. The ground was less stable as he walked, but in having no choice, he continued forward. Until…
The ground suddenly fell from beneath him, as if it ended abruptly. He had no way of knowing how far he was falling; only that pain lit the end of his tunnel.
I0I
Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table, as the first years were lead into the room. Her eyes were red shot with worry, matching the children from the train. Ron sat next to her, wrapping his arm around her, trying to comfort her. She barely noticed him. Ginny looked scared and worried, but part of Hermione knew it was not for Harry, but for Harold, the man with the money.
Harry was going to be all right. There was something about Alfred that made her trust him, not unlike Dumbledore. At least he would be, after she was through with him. She did not understand why he did that for her, why he pushed her out of the way, when he easily could have moved them both out of the way.
The first years were more frightened then ever. Hermione reasoned that must have been the reason for so few Gryffindors. Who ever the attackers were, they must have been only intending to strike terror.
"Evening," Dumbledore said, rising from his seat. "I wish to welcome you all back to another year at Hogwarts. The situation on Hogsmeade has been taken care of, though our mysterious assistance has chosen to remain as such. I apologize, for Hogwarts, I believe, is no longer the safest place for studies." He was unable to continue, a look of shock stopped him.
"I wouldn't say that." Hermione turned to the back to see a dirtied man limping his way toward the head master. She froze as his battered face attempted to smile. "I mean the ride here was hell, but hey, I'm safe now." Before he could fall, Alfred was holding him up. His right arm hung limply at his side.
"I've got you Master Harold," he said, as Harry looked up at him.
"Sorry for worrying you," he said in a soft voice. Hermione felt the urge to walk over there, but Harry started to limp his way to her, only to stumble slightly. Alfred caught him. Hermione stood up and walked over to him, tears in her eyes.
"Thank you," she managed to get out. He just smiled at her; to anyone else, it may have looked like a grimace, but to Hermione, his grin was gold. She wrapped her arms him careful as to not cause him any more pain. He returned the hug awkwardly, with only one arm though much harder than she did to him.
"Anything for a friend," whispered Harry. He was being held up almost completely by Alfred at the moment. The room around them was silence, and Hermione pulled back, blushing. Harry just smiled at her, and with Alfred's help turned toward Dumbledore as Madame Pomfrey rushed into the Hall.
"You know how to make an entrance, Mister Potter," Dumbledore said, chuckling slightly. "I'm glad to see that you were not injured greatly."
"Me too," Harry said. "So, sort me, or whatever it is you do."
"No, he has to go to the infirmary immediately," Madame Pomfrey said, putting her arm on Harry's. He gave her the same glare that he gave to Ginny, causing her to back down too.
"Sort me first, then we can do whatever needs to be done," Harry said.
"I believe that can be arranged," Dumbledore said.
"Want to help me Hermione?" Harry asked, pointing toward the stool. She tried to hold back her blush as his piercing green eyes as she nodded. Alfred and her helped Harry walked toward the stool; it looked like it took a great effort, Hermione thought, to get Harry on top of the stool, but he just smiled as he sat there, placing a hand on both her shoulder and Alfred's to hold himself up.
"Too stubborn for his own good," Alfred mumbled, belaying the smile on his face. Harry chuckled to himself.
"Mister Potter are you ready?" Professor McGonagall said holding the hat above his head. He nodded, and Hermione felt the grip on her shoulder tighten. He did not know what to expect, and placing her hand over his, he calmed down, slightly. The hat did something unexpected though. It spoke aloud his statement to Harry. Hermione watched his reaction as the Hat spoke.
"A quandary have I, no?
Then must look deep, into the night
House to put you undecided is it
Cunning shuns bright
In your heart, a thirst to prove
Oneself, of the fame and glory untold
But bravery, your strength greater
Than any darken tale told
Such a question,
To ponder I must
Ah not long did I think, the answer lies
In the heart of lost
In GRYFFINDOR,
Young man you will recede
IN GRYFFINDOR
Shall you fate be decided."
The room that once was silent, which Hermione had to admit was nice for a change, broke into murmurs and distinguished voices of anger and hatred. A lot of Slytherins were making a commotion, but not Malfoy, who nodded slightly, as if expecting this. Never before had the Sorting Hat spoke the house twice, and never before, to her knowledge had spoke its thoughts beyond the Sorting Song to the students.
"That's it?" Harry asked, causing some people, including Hermione, to chuckle/giggle a bit.
"Very well, I shall have Ms Granger assist you should there be any trouble," McGonagall said, looking at Hermione. She nodded, knowing the Harry would need help, despite reading Hogwarts, A History.
"Before you go Harold, let me explain a few things," Dumbledore said, as Alfred began to help Harry get up. Hermione moved to do so as well but stopped at Dumbledore's words. "As some of you students may have realized, the Head Boy was not chosen this year. The Governor's board has chosen another student, who has recently just entered into Hogwarts to be the Head Boy. I present to you Mister Harold Potter, your Head Boy." There was loud applause, especially from the female population, and a few males as well. Hermione kept her smile to herself as she realized they share a common room and the Head duties together.
"That all?" Harry asked this time standing up completely. His body seemed to be a bit strong, as if the rest helped.
"I believe the rest we can go over with out you," Dumbledore said his eyes twinkling lightly. "Though tomorrow morning I will need to speak you in my office." Harry nodded, and Hermione squeezed his hand once more as he was lowered onto a conjured stretcher.
"Now will you go?" Madame Pomfrey said. Alfred gave her a stern look as he put his hand on Harry's shoulder. They were out the door and Hermione followed them, wanting to make sure that Harry was alright, and following McGonagall's orders.
"I shall be caring for him Madame," he said in a tone of finality.
"I shall not let some old coot operate on my students," Madame Pomfrey said. Alfred stopped the platform and in a calm voice, spoke to Madame Pomfrey as if she were a child.
"This man you have in your care has been under mine for the last seventeen years," Alfred began. "His body does not take to your damn spell crafts, a resistance he's had since birth. His body need normal healing, natural healing. Potions and spells can only further harm his condition. If you do not let me attend to my charge, he will die. You attend to him, you will be charged with murder, that much I will see to." Madame Pomfrey stared at Alfred for a moment before he turned to Hermione. "My dear, you my leave us, I can guarantee that he is in the safest hands possible." Hermione smiled before hugging the surprised butler.
"You better or you'll have a angry friend after you," Hermione said as she pulled back. Looking back at the Great Hall, she decided against returning and went to her room, located by the Gryffindor tower. Alfred would look out for Harry, and in turn she would look at for him during the school year.
As she walked though, her mind wander back to the man on the train. The masked man. She could not help but wonder if he was okay or not. There were so many questions she wanted to ask him. Like where he came from? How did he survive that gunshot? Was he available? She stopped herself and blushed at this thought before shaking her head. He was not the type of man you wanted to take home to your mother, that much she as sure of. If only he could be more like Harry, then maybe….
But Harry was way out of her league. Hermione knew there would be no way he'd fall for a girl like her. After all, she was a bookworm.
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