"Harry," she called into the mirror, but he stopped responding. She imagined hearing a distinct muffled voice, but it wasn't him. She stayed in the stairwell, and prayed no one would show. She had tried several times to Apparate from the Ministry, but failed each time.
He still hasn't responded, and there were new voices in the corridor, progressing through the day-to-day activity of the Ministry. She closed her eyes for a moment to think, 'Fourth level, Hagrid's here, maybe Charlie Weasley.' The voices outside grew louder, a heated discussion had erupted and she clearly could hear one voice belonged to Hagrid. The young Auror had descended the stairs, but she never heard a door open, he might still be there, watching.
She was growing frantic now that she was alone and unable to escape.
She heard Hagrid's voice bellow again, in an obviously growing argument. The voices grew stronger, and she heard footsteps approach from the corridor, the sound of a boot's heel landing on the floor followed by a hollow clunk. Another footstep and another clunk, they grew louder with increased frequency. She tried to sink into the shadows to avoid any confrontations. She hid as close to the opposite side of the doorway as she could. The step-clunk sound grew louder and the footsteps came closer with each passing second. Each second drew her closer to the shadows as she watched the door, ignoring all else. As the sound came to the door, she felt a hand clench her shoulder with another on her wrist, pulling her from the shadows into the centre of the stairwell.
"Hem hem." Hermione heard from her side, as she turned to the source, the voice continued. "Well, well, Miss Granger, it seems that you managed to escape," the voice snapped. The frog-faced witch that came with the voice now stood in front of Hermione; a face she remembered watching run through the Forbidden Forest in her fifth year, running for her very life from the centaurs.
"Escape?" she asked with a puzzled tone.
"Miss Granger," Umbridge repeated, "The Lord will be happy with me that I've apprehended you, and, most certainly interested in how you escaped; although I'm curious why you came here of all places." Umbridge had the same craving for power in her eyes that she had twelve years earlier. After their last encounter, Hermione had lost her patience and ran out of the headmaster's office slamming the door after her with all her strength. This person had the same gleam in her eyes, that of a sly rat who kissed the buttocks of whoever happened to be in power, even Lord Voldemort himself.
Hermione pulled her arm free and attempted to move away, only to be blocked and restrained. Umbridge not only stopped Hermione from leaving, but her free arm came around to strike.
Harry's return was timed perfectly. He appeared behind his wife but still in the shadows, and the anger at seeing Umbridge about to strike was not seen by the assailant. He stepped forward and his instant glare brought an immediate reversal and an unexpected result, when Umbridge backed away she fell to her knees exactly as the young Auror had moments earlier.
"Sire, please forgive me," she now pleaded as if in fear for her life. "I hadn't seen you there. I found the prisoner wandering the stairs and tried to detain the bitch for you."
Harry took another step forward, now standing directly between the two women. He felt Hermione's hand on his shoulder. The thought of seeing Dolores Umbridge before him, reminded him of the faint scar on the back of his hand, it was still visible at times; it had never completely faded.
His brow furrowed at her and her last remark struck a deep nerve, "Just go away, you loathsome bitch," he hissed. And to finish his point drew his arm back aiming a blow from the back of his hand. He felt Hermione's gentle touch on his shoulder and he paused. That image also seen by Umbridge. In the brief moment of reason she managed to give him, he dropped his aggression.
"Just go away before I …" he hissed as he started to feel his anger grow.
"But, Sire, I …"
"Sod off, you miserable twit." He yelled. She took her cue and quickly backed away, down the stairs. She had left the area, but only out of immediate view and remained well within range to eavesdrop. The small area of the stairwell suddenly became more crowded when the door burst open.
Hagrid turned to see the couple standing slightly blocked behind the door.
Harry's face brightened at the sight of his oldest friend in the wizarding world. He wanted desperately to simply jump into his huge arms for a hug. He held off a moment to try and read the situation.
"Oh, 'Arry, I mean, Sire," Hagrid managed to say, the hatred he felt sang through in every word.
"Hagrid?" Harry started. He looked at his friend, and stopped at the tree trunk strapped just below his knee. "Your leg? What happened?" he asked without thinking.
"Leg? That's rich, yeh cut me leg at the knee, and yeh asks what 'appened?"
"Hagrid? How is Harry responsible?" Hermione asked as she stepped from behind Harry.
Startled at the sight of the two together, Hagrid stood staring at her. "Hermione? Hermione Granger? An' with 'Arry?" he asked, not believing his own eyes.
From her vantage point, another continued to listen to the private conversation.
"Granger? No, don't you remember..." she started when Harry grabbed her arm and shook his head as she turned to look at him.
"Hagrid, where should she be, if not here?" Harry asked.
"Sire, yeh know, yeh imprisoned 'er years ago."
She gasped at the comment and looked at Harry. He nodded, "Right, for what happened to Ron and Ginny." Harry confirmed.
"An' the others an' all, I mean, she murdered her own cousin an' that Jake fella, I really liked 'im."
"Hagrid, how?" she asked as she approached him and touched his arm. His only reaction was to flinch and step back.
"' Ow could yeh forget? Did yeh lose yeh mem'ry?"
"No, Hagrid, listen, we can't discuss this here, I need to find some information, will you help us?" Harry asked.
"I don't see 'ow yeh need anyone's help, sire. An' if she's in yeh custody, I don' see no problem."
"We can't be seen leaving, we need to leave the Ministry, and I need your help." His request was not expected, but the half-giant nodded.
"Yeah, I've no blimmin' choice, yeh know tha', but I 'ave ter deliver this letter firs'," he said, holding up an official document.
"Excellent, meet us outside in ten minutes. I, we, need your help, but I need a few moments to explain to Hermione first."
"Wait, no, meet us at the Burrow," she said changing his direct instructions, and he nodded his confirmation.
"If tha's an order, I don' have a ruddy choice," he mumbled and started towards the stairs.
Hermione looked at Harry with a single question, a question that would spawn a hundred more. He put his arms around her, and she did the same. At the moment Hagrid turned to ask a question, he watched as she put her head on his shoulder and he kissed her cheek before they disappeared together.
"Me 'ole world's turned on its ear," he muttered as he started to hobble down the stairs.
He made it down the first fight before Umbridge could get away. He took the next flight quickly and blocked her escape.
"Wha' yeh doin' there, yeh fro'-faced waste o'magic?" He took this as his chance; the stairwell behind them was empty. He thought to raise a fist to strike a blow. "Tryin'ter spy on honest members o' the Ministry?"
"It's of no importance to a half-breed thing like you to know what my duties are, and how dare you threaten a Ministry official?"
"Get out t a me way, before I …" he growled as he raised his arm to strike before she managed to scurry away.
This time she held him tightly as they Apparated to the field near the Burrow. He needed to show her the markers with the message. They appeared on the far side of the oak tree, where five grave markers were visible, but not readable from that distance.
"Hermione, it will be unpleasant. Are you certain you want to see them?" he asked.
"Yes, Harry, I have to know," she replied. They walked slowly and reverently to the markers, she kept her eyes focused on the ground before her so she wouldn't have to see the messages. The first three markers she had seen before, 'Molly Weasley, beloved wife, mother and friend.' Arthur's gravestone stood next to hers. Bill was laid to rest next to his father, but it was the next pair that were the most difficult to see, 'Ronald Weasley, friend and companion to Harry Potter. Murdered by a close friend.'
Ginny's stone held the same message. 'Murdered by a close friend'. She fell to her knees between Ron and Ginny's resting place. Hermione placed a hand on the earth covering each friend, and mouthed, 'I'm sorry'.
"They were murdered. Harry, they mentioned you, but not me. I must be the one that …" she couldn't finish the thought.
"That's what I thought too, something must have happened during the battle. The date's correct," he said. "Something happened that day. Everyone has called me 'sire', it must be part of what happened to us."
She nodded her understanding; he could feel her try to contain her emotions at the discovery, and noted her failure when he reached down for her hand to hold it tighter. She turned to face Ron's grave and mouthed a private message to her friend.
"Harry, can we go to the Burrow? Maybe we can see what the other Weasleys know of this?" she asked after she finished her brief conversation with a dead friend.
"Would that be a good idea? If our assumptions are correct, then they may not want to talk about it, especially to you."
"Who else can we turn to? Eileen and Jake are dead too, and I'm the cause as well." The trembling in her voice showed the desperation she had begun to feel. "Darling, if you're with me, I can deal with anything they might say." She stood and faced him, her eyes red and swollen, but she held her tears.
"Yes, I'm certain if we explain our situation they'll understand and help us."
He helped her to her feet, and supported her as they walked through the same fields they played in together in younger, carefree years before the last rise of Voldemort. The Burrow appeared unchanged from the one in their shared memories, it still appeared as if it would collapse from a strong sneeze. They cautiously walked to the door, and stood at the threshold.
"Mione, maybe you should stand off to the side, until we know for sure."
She nodded and left him standing alone, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head to be certain.
Harry knocked on the doorframe, and heard scuffling from inside. No one came to the door. He knocked again.
"Bugger off. We're not here," a voice shouted.
"George? Fred?" Harry replied.
"Bugger off, you mindless git," the voice shouted again.
"Harry, try again, please," she pleaded.
He now pounded and called out again, this time in a less then friendly Auror voice. "George Weasley, open the bloody door."
He heard less than polite mumbling as footsteps announced the approach. "Who the bloody hell do you think you are to barge in a man's home?" a shaggy red-haired man said. He had several days'growth of beard; it was obvious that he seldom left the house. He had been scratching in places only a man alone in his own home would consider, and had been looking down to the floor as he approached the door. He finally glanced up to see Harry standing in front of him, grinning madly.
His jaw dropped. He stared at Harry, unable to make a coherent phrase. "M-M-M … I, uh …"
"George?" Harry asked.
"Sire, please I had no idea …" he fell to his knees, humbled and frightened.
Harry started to chuckle, "George, it's only me, Harry," he began as he opened the door and pulled his old friend into a classic Weasley greeting
"S-S-Sire?"
"Stop with this 'sire' thing, George. I need your help. Who else is here?"
"Umm, my brother. No one else, Lord."
Hermione now stepped from around the corner, "George?" she asked tentatively.
He looked up and forgot who stood before him, "What the fuck are you doing here, you fucking murderous bitch?" he spat at her.
"George, why …" she pleaded for an explanation.
"Why? You killed my little brother and sister, and you were supposed to be their friend. How could you? Why did you?" He ranted, his blood boiled from ten years of unresolved anger at their deaths.
"Please, George, humour us," Harry asked, in as polite a tone as possible.
George began grumbling something about overstepping authority and pushed the door open for them.
"George," a voice called from upstairs, "Who's at the door?"
"Lord Potter and that murderous bitch," he called back.
A second man bounded down the stairs in a near laugh," That's the best one you've pulled in years, I almost …" Fred Weasley stopped short as he came face to face with the two Potters. "Crikey, I thought you were having me on."
"Fred? Fred, please," Harry asked. "First, let me say one thing, whatever you believe she has done, put it aside, whatever I have done. Put that aside, just treat us as strangers from another world," Harry instructed.
"They've gone daft, George, doesn't he know what's history?"
"No, we don't," she replied. "The truth is too strange to explain briefly, the truth is we are from a different world. My name is Hermione Potter, not Granger. You both attended our wedding, Ron stood up for Harry and Ginny was my matron of honour, that was ten years ago next month."
"Quite, and next you'll tell us a Muggle runs Hogwarts."
"Well, one is the assistant headmaster under McGonagall," Harry replied.
A brief and nervous laugh from the twins began, expecting the others to join in the joke, they, however, remained silent.
"You are having us on? Aren't you?" George asked after watching their silence. Harry shook his head.
"What happened to Ron and Ginny?" Hermione asked point blank.
"Simple, you murdered them. You were lying unconscious after the battle when they thought you were hurt, and you did something. They fell dead, and you laughed at them."
She stared blankly at the remark. "I laughed?" she finally asked softly.
"Yeah, then some bloke picked you up and took you off. We heard you killed him and the woman, what's her name?"
"Eileen Madison. She was her cousin. The man must have been Jake Stevens," Harry added. Hermione sat and stared blankly, stunned that she could have done any of this.
"But I never could have hurt any of them; they are all as dear to both of us as you two." She looked puzzled at Harry; he shook his head and cupped her hands in his.
"Fred, George, we really are not from this 'reality'. Something happened and we ended up here. Please, this is the truth."
Before another word, the door burst open, and Hagrid hobbled in. "Fred, George, tha' madman said he was on 'is way, an' she's with …" he froze to his spot in mid-sentence, the fear of the retribution he faced showed in his expression.
"Please, Hagrid, don't worry about it, come in, we do need your help. I was explaining to Fred and George that we don't belong in this world."
Hermione stood and walked fearlessly to the half-giant, and took his massive hand, and kissed his palm. "Please. Old friend, just trust us now. Sit." she asked.
Stunned, he complied, as Harry repeated the story he had began moments earlier. Together they explained in detail nearly every event since the battle, as that seemed to be the point where this reality changed.
They in turn related the history of their world, Harry's defeat of Voldemort, Hermione 'falling'unconscious and killing Ron and Ginny, Harry's explosion of hatred and anger, and the massacre in the fields of the school, which was the point when Hagrid's leg was lost.
"So, we both 'snapped'after Voldemort was gone?" he asked in summary.
"Yeah, you both seemed, well, different after that. Harry, you announced yourself sovereign king of all wizards, and commissioned a search for her." Fred pointed to Hermione while George continued. "They said they found you in a flat, you were unconscious and the muggle authorities found the other two dead, buried nearby. Harry's had you 'confined' since then and you've never been seen. Everyone thinks you're dead."
Harry pondered these thoughts, "Where is she now? There must be more to it. Something else that happened …"
"Or didn't happen …" Hermione interjected.
"Between us." He finished, the obvious difference in their demeanour showed the group these two were not the Harry and Hermione of this world.
"Rumour is she's still alive and has been held at the old Order headquarters, it's still your house, but no one's been in there in years."
"Then, that will be our first stop." he said as he stood. "Maybe we can force some change in them, make things here right again."
She remained sitting, and nodded, "Darling," she still held his hand, "Maybe tomorrow? We both need to rest, and I'm famished."
"Right. Fred, George, and of course, Hagrid, thank you for listening, but we need to go. And so you will know us, from the other two, we'll use the names Sirius gave us as Marauders, Stag and Spirit. They will be our code names. Now, we've overstayed our welcome here. Love, come we'll find a place for the night." He helped her to her feet, and they turned to leave.
"Wait." Fred called out. "If you are who you say, then stay here as long as you need. If this is an elaborate trick, then I hope you remember we did offer you lodgings."
"Quite right, brother. Stay at least the night. We've plenty of room, and it might be amusing to see Percy's face when he arrives home in a bit."
She looked to Harry, and before he answered, she replied for them. "It may put you all in danger. We shouldn't. Harry, maybe we can find a room at the Cauldron?"
"She's got a point, I'd rather not put you in any more danger."
"Nonsense, stay here. They'll know you anywhere you go."
He nodded; he relished the thought of a shower and warm bed for the night. "Done. We'll use our usual room."
"Usual room? You two haven't spent the night in ten years, and never together."
"Ah, right then, the room at the top of the third floor, unless someone's there."
"Use the second room on the right on the third then, it hasn't been used in a while." Fred said casually.
They left the group and retired to the room they had been offered. She tried to give each a warm hug, but the cold reception to her embrace with Fred gave her pause enough to avoid the others. The couple climbed the stairs together, when she whispered, "That was Ron's old room, why that one?"
"I guess to turn up the guilt." he replied as they disappeared up the staircase.
The others remained downstairs, the revelations and twists they heard left them all slightly bewildered.
The late night rescue and subsequent battle that preceded the activities of the day left Harry tired and sore, more so for Hermione. She found the bed first and had curled up in the warm quilt before Harry could shed his shoes.
"Wouldn't you like a shower first?" he asked.
"Umm mmm …" she mumbled in response.
"Mione?" he asked as he sat next to her, but it was too late. She was asleep. He smiled and stoked her hair, to which he thought he heard her purr like a kitten. He pulled the covers over her to let her sleep; pulled off the layer of clothes he had now worn and fought in, and fumbled in a cupboard for a clean towel.
He knew his way around this house as well as his own home, and slipped into the bathroom at the end of the hall to soak his achy joints in the warm flow. He kept his eyes shut as the warm fluid flowed over his face. He kept the flow washing over him, feeling the drops strike his face. He held his eyes shut, enjoying the relaxing feeling. He reached blindly to the shelf hanging under the showerhead, and identified the shampoo by feel.
He poured a generous amount into his hands, and worked it through his hair, feeling the ache from each strand of hair diminish with each passing moment under the stream. He kept his head in the shower, and kept massaging his hair to work out all the soap.
He hung his head. Both hands on the firm wall and shook his hair free of the excess. He was finally beginning to relax, and feel his muscles loosen. Then he finally opened his eyes to find his feet buried ankle deep in the warm, flowing mud. His body was covered in a fine film of the same mud.
He looked at himself shook his head and laughed. "Bugger, I should've known in all these years to never trust Fred and George!"
He turned off the shower and the thick mud flowed down the drain. He turned on the tap for the tub to be rewarded with clean, clear water. He rinsed the remaining mud from the tub and his body, then let the tub fill and laid back into the fresh bath.
"Mmmm, I see why she prefers baths," he mumbled to himself.
Nearly a half hour later he shook himself awake, and drained the water. The towel he used was quite fluffy and nearly as relaxing. He dried quickly, to return to their room.
"You're up, you were nearly walking in your sleep before," he commented when he saw her sitting up.
"I, I'm feeling a bit ill. I can't believe what they said, but still," she sighed heavily. "Hold me?" she pleaded reaching her arms out.
He dropped the towel and pulled on his boxers before complying with her needs. The Hermione of this world had done something horrible, and even though this woman was guiltless, it still affected her deeply.
"Mmm, you smell heavenly, have a good shower?" she commented as she buried her face into his bare skin.
"Umm, I'd avoid the shower and opt for a bath, if I were you," he replied with a grin.
"Sounds wonderful." She kissed him deeply and passionately leaving him slightly light-headed from all his blood draining elsewhere, and left him alone to suffer that fate. He managed to shake his mind free after she left and dressed.
Outside the bedroom, he heard her slip into the tub, and heard a sigh of contentment. He smiled that she was finally able to relax. He heard the story of what she did to this world, but wanted to learn his role without her there. She had been stressed and still seemed pale, possibly from the confrontation with Malfoy and Voldemort in the past day. She seemed to have passed her illness and had managed a few moments to relax. 'She needs her time alone.' he thought.
He found his hosts still sitting and discussing the events, as if he never left. He joined them, resuming the same spot he sat with Hermione before his 'shower' more then an hour before.
"Interesting shower you boys have," he commented casually. "It was refreshing."
Fred looked at George, slightly puzzled, but George's look was that of a guilty man about to be condemned. "Sire, it was meant for Percy, I really forgot to warn you," he nearly stammered.
Harry grinned and laughed, "It was still relaxing, but I warned Hermione to take a bath instead."
"Umm, did you use the towels in the bathroom?" Fred asked nervously.
"No, I found some in the bedroom, why?"
"No reason, none at all," Fred said with a relaxed smile.
"Fred, I've seen that smile of yours before, shall I be concerned for my wife's safety?"
"Umm, she really is your wife?"
"Yeah, we told you that before, she is my wife."
He sat, looking a bit nervous and flustered, "No, nothing to worry about, nothing at all."
Harry thought about the comments and expressions and made a mental note to avoid the towels in the bathroom. The light-hearted nature of his friends still existed, and it was as warming to be at that end of a Fred and George Weasley joke as if it were a welcoming Weasley hug from Molly. He was starting to feel some normality to the abnormal reality.
"Hmmm, fine then, I guess." He sat quiet and became serious. "Tell me about what I did. You focused on her earlier, I must have done something here, or people wouldn't be terrified of me. I'd rather know first, she's been through quite a bit these past few months, well, since we've been together, actually."
"You feel that strongly that you want to keep this from her?" Fred asked. It was one of the more serious questions Harry had heard from him.
"Yes, I would rather tell her myself. It would be easier, I think."
"At the end of the battle, Voldemort was destroyed, and Pettigrew knocked Hermione down. She seemed to be unconscious," George said.
"Actually, she was stabbed and died. That's what you must have seen."
"She died? As in gone and deceased?"
"Yes, she has a power that can draw the very life force from objects and people around her. She can channel that to heal others or herself in times of stress."
"So that's how Ron and Ginny died?"
"Most likely, however, in our world she drew what she needed from me."
"Crikey, that explains a lot."
"What happened next, to me?"
"You seemed to lose your mind, Albus pulled you from her, and you turned on him, he fell dead from your touch. You then blew up anyone in front of you. That's when you ran off and she killed Ron and Ginny."
"An', tha's when yeh blew off me leg, 'Arry," Hagrid added quickly. "I was there behind Professor Dumbledore when yeh killed 'em."
"I … killed Albus?" he stammered. His face drained of all blood, forcing his scar to stand out blood red against his now pale skin.
"She was taken off, and hidden, I guess to get better. She wasn't seen for a year or so," George added.
"My Hermione was carrying our child. Malfoy killed it and cursed her; do you think she left to have the child?"
"No one knows. You went mad, quite insane actually, searched the country until she was found. The story was those others were found dead with her, but some say you were the one that found them and killed them both."
"Why or more appropriately, how did I become the 'monarch' of the wizards?"
"No one could stop you or reason with you. You actually seemed as crazed as Voldemort himself."
"Right, I thought you came here to 'finish' us and when I saw her, I lost control. If you were him, we'd all be with Ron and Gin right now," George added to explain his earlier outburst.
"I'm not 'him' but I think I'm here to stop him and this insanity."
They paused to soak the words into their minds, so much to consider in such a brief time. Before another word was spoken, soft footsteps were heard coming down the steps.
"George," they heard a woman's voice call. Hermione had a large soft towel wrapped around her, fresh from the bath, her hair wrapped in another. "I hate to be a bother, but all my things are quite nasty. Have you put Ginny's things up?"
"We, I, couldn't stand to touch a thing of hers. Her room was as she left it before she left for school that year." George looked away at the comments, losing her was harder for the brothers than even Ron's death.
"Yes, we left her room the same. Please, you're welcome to anything she had that will fit," Fred added.
She stood facing the twins, Harry to her side and Hagrid sat behind where she stood. She took that extra step, bent over and gave her husband's two stepbrothers and thank-you kiss on their cheeks.
Hagrid watched her closely, he listened to every word said and watched both their actions, just as the twins had. Harry smiled at the compassion they were now sharing, putting their anger and hate aside.
Harry then glanced to his large friend and stared at Hagrid for a moment. He watched Hagrid's eyes grow large in his face. The same startled look Chrissy Linter had when she saw the rat, and he thought it to be a traitor. He sprung to his feet and scanned the opposite side. 'Constant vigilance' was still etched in his mind. Fred and George were equally alarmed at his sudden action.
"WHAT?" he commanded. "What's wrong?" he repeated still scanning the room. Hermione had stepped back and turned looking in the opposite direction, her back to Harry's back and stared straight at Hagrid. His eyes continued to grow larger and now his jaw dropped.
"Mione, see anything?" Harry asked.
"Nothing." She looked intently, also watching Hagrid. Out of habit she still held her towel. She shifted it slightly, tightening it around her chest as she felt a slight chill.
"Uhhh, Harry," George started.
Fred watched the couple and then saw her stand behind Harry. "Uh, Hermione, did you use the towels in the bathroom?"
"Of course, they were the only ones large enough." She shifted the towel again, and the draft increased.
"Ha-Ha-ar - rry" Hagrid managed to stammer. "Hermione's … umm... Neked."
Harry turned and saw the reason for the sudden shock. Now his eyes nearly popped through his glasses. George stood quickly and grabbed a cloak from the chair and trying to look away, but also tried to admire the view, handed her the cloak.
Puzzled, she looked at him; Harry still stared, as did the other men in the room. She finally looked down to see the last of the towel dissolve leaving nothing to the imagination.
"I'm terribly sorry, Percy's been bringing this woman home from time to time and I thought it would be clever to leave them those towels." Fred offered as he tried to help her into the cloak, but she wasn't able slide an arm into it, he held it upside-down.
"And fix the shower?" Harry asked, his face held a stern expression, and waited until Fred had nearly dissolved himself before he couldn't contain himself. He cracked a grin, mirrored by the one on her face, and finally broke into a thunderous laugh.
"That was perfect," she finally managed to choke out, the others still too nervous to join in, but the laughter from these two became quite contagious.