He held her hand so he knew she was near, he could still smell the fragrance in her hair as it swirled and flowed in the cosmic winds and eddies. She was nearby. He refused to let her hand go, even for a moment; he mentally apologized for crushing her hand as he held it so tight. He even imaged her saying in his mind she didn't mind. His shoulder still stung from the blow moments ago, he ignored the throbbing and now the slight stiffness. He focused on her hand in his.
There was no floor, no walls, nothing but emptiness. This was what they experienced the last time. This is what she is experiencing with him this time, together. He reached out in front of him, hoping for any sensation, any tactile response, and like the last time there was nothing. Experience has taught him that the forces that are toying with them will take their own sweet time to let this end, as it must surly end.
There was still nothing. No, there was her hand in his, she wiggled her fingers either to ease the discomfort or simply to telegraph to him she was still there.
Time.
Time passed.
Still nothing.
The wiggling stopped, his hand had grown numb. He tried to pull her closer; his arm struggled against the force of the flow. He squeezed harder and all he felt was an empty hand. She was gone.
He wanted a touch of her hand, just a touch, a reassuring touch she was not lost. She can't be lost he rationalized, last time he followed her and she was waiting for him, she'll be waiting for him this time.
He closed his eyes to think and willed his growing fears away, she would be there, he was certain she was already there. As his anxiety mounted, he could feel the flapping of clothe, the veil as it fluttered in his face. He opened his eyes to find himself just on the other side of the gateway, as if he stepped through a door. Sitting on the floor in front of him was Hermione, waiting patiently.
"Mione?"
Her eyes lit as bright as the beams from a lighthouse guiding the lost home. She threw her arms around him and finally released a sigh of relief. He winced slightly, his shoulder would need her special touch.
"My hand went numb and I couldn't feel you anymore, I tried to wiggle my fingers just to let you know where I was," she managed to say between her kisses.
"I know. That was all I felt. How long were you waiting?"
"Umm, not long, last time I remember I sat alone for what seemed like hours, but this time you popped through about an hour after I realized I was through."
"Do you think we're home or is this world going to be worse?"
"I think we'll find out as soon as we get out of here." She slipped her hand around his shoulder, and sensed the swelling he ignored. She smiled and slipped her hand under his shirt, to his skin, and smiled. A warm surge passed through the injury as the pain disappeared with her touch.
"Better now?"
"Much better, thanks." He kissed her lightly on the cheek, as they turned to the door. The evidence of the battle from only moments ago was not there. The bench that was shattered stood intact, as did the door.
After the last episode in the Ministry, they cautiously walked up the steps of the pit that held the archway, and passed through the door to the room. The hall was dark as if night had fallen. Not a single ray of light could be seen, she produced her wand, and after muttering the incantation, her wand tip began to glow. With the exception of the darkness, everything seemed normal, the first thing he looked for was the chain that sealed the Hall of Prophecies, it was not there. The door also appeared to have not been opened in a very long time.
They cautiously left that level and found the lift still operational, but it appeared to have been years since its last use. They left the lift on the second level, where the Auror's offices were, any change here could be evidence of what they could expect. The light from her wand showed evidence of the lack of maintenance and years of neglect. The wallpaper had separated from the walls where moisture leaked through from broken pipes and outside seepage. Doors left open, many damaged from forced entries. Faded scorch marks on the walls showed evidence of spells that had missed their targets. They turned the corner where they expected to find the rows of cubicles, only to find the room in a similar state of disarray. The cubicle walls had either fallen of were knocked down, desks tipped over and also showed of a conflict.
They walked carefully to the spot where his desk should have been, it had scattered piles of parchment and layers of dust. The chair had been turned around, with the back to them. He kicked the chair aside to open the drawers, and as it spun, a pile of bones held together in a rotten bundle of cloth fell to the floor. The obvious detail was a wooden leg in the pile.
Hermione sucked in a gasp of air at the sudden clatter of bones, not expecting to see this.
"Moody. Its Moody, but he retired after Voldemort was gone." Harry stated. "This isn't the same world we left, something happened here too."
This time she wasn't afraid of the outcome of this world, again they were here for a reason and they had to find out what happened to determine the reason they were here. On the floor she noticed Moody's wand, and picked it up, just in case. She followed him as they made their way through the debris that littered the halls and now clogged the staircase. The stairs themselves remained sturdy and intact, but the amount of trash indicated either a rapid evacuation or looting.
At the top of the stairs they found themselves looking in the Atrium. The once highly polished, dark wood floor now scuffed and dull, scoring along the walls and fragments of the fireplaces showed this was where most of the fighting started, the ministry tried to defend itself, and the fight must have bleed to the other floors. The Aurors were mostly killed in the Atrium. Several small piles of rags and bones lay scattered along the hall, several concentrated near the circular pool. The figures that had stood in the fountain, now also lay in ruin.
"How long ago do you think this happened?" she asked as they stepped over the remains.
"From the appearances, quite some time." He stopped at the front security desk, a newspaper laid open, unread for years. He carefully blew the dust from the page and read the date. May 23 1998 .
"What is it, Harry?" she asked, although she knew the answer.
"This must have been his second target after Hogwarts; he wouldn't split his force for a double attack. It's that date."
She gasped at the news, turned and sat on the guard's desk. The possibility of being home crossed her mind, but deep down she expected it wasn't. He also expected an emotional reaction. He moved to put his arms around her when she did something unexpected.
"No, Harry, I'm fine, I know this was some one else's doing. I don't need to be coddled." She pushed him away; a steely eye look of determination was all she would reveal.
He stood there, unsure why the change, 'something with the incident with Malfoy' he thought, but before he could work out the details, she explained.
"Harry, it's nothing about you, or me, it's this thing we're going through. Malfoy has nothing to do with it, I was glad to have some revenge for what he did to us." She stopped and picked up his hands. "I love you; you're my best friend and lover. I have been torn inside since he did that to us, to me. What happened was my release from that. As far as I care it's over."
"Hermione, I'm so glad to finally hear you say its over. It has been over for me since we almost lost Ginny; I refuse to allow anyone else to be hurt because of that curse. That's why I want to find a child that needs a home and give him or her one."
"Yes, if and when we get to our home, our reality. I want to make that our first priority."
"Second. They've probable declared us dead by now," he corrected her priority.
"Right, we straighten that out then find a child that needs a home and love." She wrapped her arms around his chest, and put her head against him. He responded with an embrace and a loving kiss on her head.
"Now, let's find out what happened, to the Burrow first or to Godric's Hollow?"
"I want to find Ron, ok?" she asked, looking into his eyes.
"You know I can't refuse these eyes. Of course, I miss him too, but that sheet may have a clue."
"Hmmm. Yes, it might. It would at least give us an idea what to expect."
He pulled the bundle of pages from the rucksack and thumbed through them. He found the one sheet in question and placed it on the security desk. Hen he released it, the words all vanished.
He place his hands on the top an bottom edges, some of the words returned and stated to glow:
sixth of seven… one whose star shines brighter… she is lost…
He released it and it became blank again. She placed her hands on the opposite sides, and other words appeared:
Dark Lord… oppression… Joined by… direction and council
He replaced his hands on the sheet and the full message faded to view:
As the Dark Lord comes to power
The sixth of seven will stand against oppression
Joined by one whose star shines brighter than anyone
Her intellect will give direction and council
Before she is lost to the ages
Leaving Fate to the son of the seventh
"Do you have it?" he asked.
"Yes, I believe so, obviously this means Voldemort is in or is coming back here. And…" they both realized she was integral to the message, since she had always been referred to as one giving direction and council.
"Who is 'the sixth of seven', and that second to the last line, I don't care for the sound of it."
"Darling, Harry, they're just words on a sheet of parchment. It could mean me or my counterpart in this world. At least now we have some idea." She tucked the sheet back into the book and then back into the pack.
"It's time to go," she said.
She held her hands out and he helped her to her feet, more to just hold her hands again, and they found their way out of the destroyed building.
Once at the lobby of the building there wasn't a sign of a living soul. There wasn't so much as a single guard to stop them from leaving and soon they found themselves on a street in downtown London on Covent Garden . That street was barren as well; old papers blew across the street. Cars littered the intersection, burned and rusted. This had the feel of an old muggle movie about a nuclear disaster, where civilization was obliterated.
"Harry, I don't like the looks of things here any more then that last reality."
"I think we should go to the oak tree. It should be clear enough there."
She looked at him and nodded; no need for secrecy here, London appeared to be dead. He held her hand, as they apparated together, back to the same oak tree they picnicked under before all this happened. The tree was the same as before, the grounds were better tended then the last reality. But the monuments for those that died didn't exist.
"Listen," he said as she began scanning for something familiar, "they may be dead here too, we have to be prepared. Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm fair. Let's see if they're here."
They passed the old oak; the grounds were in slightly better condition then in the last reality. Harry felt it, an uneasy feeling someone was calling. He let the feeling pass unmentioned. She also noticed something. But she had no clue what that 'something' was.
"I'm beginning to understand how you felt going to the Burrow with Sir James," Harry said in a low voice.
She simply smiled and squeezed his hand. Together they approached the building in the distance; muffled voices carried across the field told them this time the scene might not be as devastating.
She gave his hand a squeeze as the both heard the voices, eager to find a friend. However, since the last encounters they were cautious. They crossed the field, staying close to the hedgerows for cover. The house itself had a more then normal rundown look about it, but still appeared habitable. Smoke from the chimney told them the dwelling was not empty.
As they came to the gate in the stone fence, a small child, a boy possibly six or seven years old ran past, and stopped short when he saw them. He glanced at Harry first and froze when he saw Hermione standing at his side. The boy turned sheet white, emphasizing the trademark crimson hair.
"Hello, what is your name?" Hermione asked, as she bent to his level.
His reply was a shriek as he turned and ran. "Mummy, it's outside!!"
Confused they looked at each other and walked to the front door. Harry cautiously knocked while Hermione stayed behind him.
A fiery redheaded woman came to the door, she looked so familiar, but the years had worn her down. She had the look of a woman fighting daily for her and her child's very survival.
"May I help you?" she asked politely.
"Please excuse our intrusion, we were hoping to find…"
The woman lifter her eyes to his greeting, and instant recognition flared in his mind.
"Ginny?"
"Yes? Do I know you?" she asked and at Harry's mentioning her name, Hermione stepped forward with a warm smile for a lost friend.
"Gin, it's…"
"You? How did you do that, Hermione? And who is this man?"
"Ginny, it's me, Harry. You seem to know Hermione."
"Of course, she's been here ever since, since that day." Ginny turned a confused look to Hermione again, "You've never left the house before, and you're real?"
"Can we come in, Ginny?" Hermione asked, slightly bewildered at her comments.
The door swung open and she allowed them into the house. The young boy had been hiding behind Ginny's skirt, trembling. She watched as the couple walked into the house as if they had done so a thousand times before. They both entered the front room, where Harry removed his pack and helped Hermione out of her robe. Then the unspeakable happened in Ginny's eyes, she kissed him as they sat.
"Hermione? How could you be here like this?"
"I… don't understand. Like how?"
Ginny never answered, from the stairs a translucent figure drifted into the room, "We have company? I thought I heard young Arthur cry out." The figure drifted down and saw the couple on the sofa and froze.
"You're… me?" Hermione gasped as she grabbed Harry's arm.
"But, how?" the ghost exclaimed, "Who are you?"
Harry held a hand out to stop the questions. "My name is Harry Potter, and this is Hermione Potter, my wife. We are trapped between our reality and this one, because of an error in judgment."
"Hermione Potter? But my name is, er was Granger," she said.
He continued and began to explain their situation, he explained about the veil and coming from a different reality, he explained briefly without revealing too much information of their world or the past reality they had just escaped. The ghost sat on an invisible chair, and listened as the story unfolded. Ginny, too sat transfixed to the unfolding and remarkable story.
When he stopped at the point of arriving at the Burrow, the ghost began her story.
"It appears we had very similar experiences," she looked at Hermione as she spoke. "I received my letter for Hogwarts and found out about my heritage. At school I met Ronald, and we became close friends through the years. He and I became very close and in our seventh year we dated."
"We were the closest of friends too; the three of us, Ron is still my, well, our best friend. What happened to him?" Harry asked.
"I want to know what happened to Harry, it seems he never went to Hogwarts." Hermione asked.
"I never knew a Harry Potter; the Potters all died the same day Voldemort disappeared the first time. He returned in my fifth year, and killed Neville. That was the beginning of his return to power. As for Ron, he died in the Battle of Hogwarts, along with most of the teachers and older students. The Ministry was the last battle of the war, when it was destroyed they managed to destroy most of Voldemort's support leaving the world in a type of stasis. He's been rebuilding since then, but unfortunately the Ministry's destruction effectively ended our government, there were very few wizards left willing to step up and help rebuild. There are pockets of us scattered about, but as a whole, our world was destroyed."
Hermione and Harry listened to the specific events of this world's destruction, although it still didn't explain every thing they had seen. The destruction of the Ministry as the last battle was clear now. But there were personal questions that had not been asked.
"How did I, err you die?" Hermione asked her ghost.
"Ron and I were together one night, he wanted me that night, but I wasn't sure I was ready for that. We spent the night together, but we never… well…"
Hermione held Harry's hand; she knew exactly what her ghost was trying to say. "Go on, we had something similar."
"That morning when I woke in his arms, I had a vision."
"Mum and dad?"
"Yes. They were…"
"It happened to us that way as well." She squeezed Harry's hand for comfort.
"Two days later we, Ron and I, with Dumbledore's help buried them. That night Ron wanted me to spend the night with him, but I needed to be alone, he was hurt, but seemed to understand. I cried myself to sleep and cuddled in bed with the stuffed animals I remember dad gave me when I was a little girl. I woke up the next morning 500 years in the past. That was the last night I could have spent with him."
She remembered Merlin's comments about Harry delaying the funeral and how she went back much later. "I know what happened; you needed to save Hermia, right?"
"Yes. And I met…"
"Myddrin, who tried to explain what happened?" Hermione asked her ghost.
"Hermione," Harry interrupted, "This is getting a bit confusing. It appears that's the point things changed." He looked at the ghost, "You saved Hermia, but did you go to the Chamber of Secrets?"
"No one knows where it is or how to get in. No, I never went there. After I helped Hermia I returned back here, but that was after the Battle of Hogwarts. I was told I died when the Gryffindor Tower was destroyed, Ron had found me unconscious in my bed the morning I went back in time and was caring for me until the attack. He fought bravely, from what I had heard, but he left the fight when Dumbledore was killed. And although he had been badly wounded, he came to get me. He wouldn't leave me alone and that's how he died. They said they found us crushed and unable to separate our bodies, we were buried together. When my spirit returned I had no where else to go, so I came here."
"She was here as a ghost when I returned home several years later," Ginny now began her side. "I had gone into hiding with my boyfriend at the time. He was being hunted for his part in saving some of us with an early warning before the battle."
"Draco?"
"Yes, He was killed soon after I discovered I was carrying his child. His father had never forgiven him and branded him as a traitor. They fought each other in a duel and they both died from their wounds, although I still think Voldemort had been there too."
"So, Voldemort is alive?"
"Some say he is, and some say he's too weak to really come back again. There's no reasonable explanation why he didn't die when the Ministry was destroyed," the ghost added.
"So chaos has been the norm for the past ten years? What happened to the muggles? When we passed through London , it was deserted."
"Voldemort had gained the help of the giants and vampires. The muggles seemed to this it was some invasion from terrorists and tried to retaliate with their conventional weapons. They ended killing each other instead. It started with attacks in the main cities and issues overseas were blamed. There was a country there that feared invasion and launched missiles against a neighbor, which in turn launched their missiles, and they ended using weapons with such a destructive nature that most all in and around major cities had died."
The news that the wizard civil war sparked a global nuclear war caused them to sit and reflect. Harry had thought the next question carefully; it was what he had to do. "Where has Voldemort been spotted?"
"There's a township of Little Harrington where he's suppose to have a family house, it's believed he's been there, barely alive."
Harry sat back and blew a lung of air through his teeth and thought about this world. He felt a familiar head nuzzle into his shoulder and his arm found its way around her. Hermione had slipped her arms around his waist and sat there in silence. Her eyes fixed on her own ghost.
The ghost too had watched her counterpart since she entered the room. They all had shared their stories, each listening at those areas where events changed. The silence was broken by one more question, one almost whispered.
"Are you happy?" the ghost asked.
Hermione nodded and held Harry tighter. She pressed deeper into his side, with her face buried in his shirt. She began to grieve for lost friends here, and felt a hand stoke through her hair.