The morning after the dark anniversary found two lovers still entwined in each other's arms on a deserted beach, when she shifted to find a more comfortable spot he woke. He looked at her chestnut hair sprawled across his chest, and smiled at his good fortune to have her in his life. That first morning he woke to find her in his arms in the astronomy tower at school he had no idea how to wake a girl sleeping in his arms, now that same girl lay sleeping in his arms wearing only a smile and a light sheet draped across them.
"Love, wake up, the sun's been up a while. We need to head back."
"Mmm… why do we have to? It's so peaceful here. You amaze me every time you find a spot like this, each is better than the last." She stretched out like a cat waking for the first time after a long sleep; she was always like this after an active night, content to bask in the arms of the man she loved.
"You didn't forget we promised Ron and Luna we'd help clean the attic at the Burrow, he's finally ready to let go of them."
"No," she muttered, "I haven't forgotten. I really don't want to find anything they left."
"I'm sure you can imagine how Ron feels, it's still his home. He still hasn't been able to go in their bedroom since that day."
"Can we just owl him and say something's come up? Someone from out of town arrived? Maybe a distant relation can to visit?"
"We both know that's not true, outside of Eileen, neither of us has any living family."
"You're right, but can't we just go tomorrow? It's so warm here, and so chilly at home." She pleaded as she nuzzled deeper into his chest, deliberately brushing her hair by his face, a little trick she learned that drives him wild. He lost himself in her long flowing hair, but this time he tried to resist.
"Love, we have to go."
She began tracing imaginary figures on his skin."
"We promised… umm…"
She lightly caressed his legs with hers.
"Ron that… oh bloody hell." He rolled her over to her back and passionately attacked her neck.
"We'll owl him when we get back." She whispered.
The following day Luna wanted to begin cleaning one of the older portions of the attic in the Burrow, but had to wait until the promised help arrived, their absence yesterday was understood. The Weasleys were as close to the Potters as if they were truly related. They always seemed to vanish the day after, and they had never told anyone where they went. It remained a secret that no one tried to solve, because Hermione always returned cheerful with the memories safely hidden for another year. She decided to get what she could accomplish on her own, and expected the others to arrive shortly.
She was anxious to exorcize the home she shared with her husband of the last sad memories still locked in the attic, to make this their home, instead of his parent's home. She began alone at dawn, before Ron woke, knowing Harry and Hermione also would be there later. The possibility of raising old forgotten memories was not as biting to her, since these were family ghosts that needed to be put to rest. These spirits and old painful memories needed to be resurrected for Ron or their close friends to close old chapters in the lives they shared.
Ron's family had lived in this home for as many generations as they could remember. 'It may be as old as Hogwarts itself, it certainly hasn't been cleaned in as long.' Luna thought to herself. She started to cleanse the home of those memories, beginning with generations' worth of artifacts in the attic. Luna's need to re-build this into their home came from a deeply rooted need, a common bond shared by magical and non-magical women to build a perfect home when expecting, news that she kept to herself, until she was certain. She felt the need to clean the entire house. This was the last place that had not been attacked. She single handedly dealt with the lower floors with their first, and she was certain another was on the way.
In the farthest corner, she spotted a group of ancient trunks she was told one could not be opened by any magic or keys they possessed. And that one in particular had rooted itself to the house, never to be opened or moved. Molly was told when she became the mistress of the home by Arthur's great-grand-mother that this trunk came from a distant relative and that it had been locked for many years. Luna made her way to it, thinking she'll try again to move it to another less cluttered area. Every attempt to levitate it or simply drag it to another area failed.
She had struggled stubbornly for a few minutes to either open or move the trunk, and had all but abandoned that effort when she was startled by a number of voices. Ron led Harry and Hermione to the back of the attic where she had been concentrating her efforts.
"Ron, lend a hand with this beast." She called out.
He dutifully obeyed and took position on the opposite side, grasped the handle and together they pulled up.
"Ohfff." He wheezed as he finally released the handle. His fingers bent and locked into the shape of the leather strap meant to lift and carry the storage chest.
"Loosing your grip, old man?" Harry teased from the stairwell. "Why not just levitate the bloody thing."
"Sod off, Potter, it's just a trunk." He looked to his wife on the over end and in a softer voice, "You did try levitating it, right?"
"Ronald Bilius Weasley, do you really think I wouldn't try that? This bloody think is rooted to the floor. I've tried everything, and it won't budge."
"Hey, mate, lend a hand, this beast isn't cooperating."
Harry managed to stop chuckling at his friend long enough to pull Hermione in after him. She deposited the rucksack with a few possessions neither felt comfortable without at the landing and followed him. He held her hand as they made their collective way to the trunk in question. It was extremely old and had all appearances of being permanently fixed to the floor. One distinguishing feature was the missing lock, nothing seemed to prevent the large case from opening except a pair of simple latches, but it had remained sealed for as long as any living member of the family could remember.
With Hermione and Ron on one end, Luna and Harry and took a position on the other side.
"On three, two, one… and LIFT." And, on the count of three, the beast moved. It jerked up with a force unexpected by any of those present, jerking Ron and Luna's hands free of the handles. Harry and Hermione stood there, holding the trunk as if it weighed less them a pillow. As difficult as it was to move the trunk, it now seemed to be an impossibility that it now moved with relative ease. They carried the trunk to another area previously set up by Luna as a staging area to sort the contents of the other trunks and boxes in the space.
The instant they set the trunk down on the floor, the sealed latches fell open to the mutual surprise of the small group. They cautiously opened the chest, unsure as to the contents. Once inside, objects unseen for 528 years were now revealed.
Harry backed away from the trunk, to let Ron inspect the contents, since this was his family home. Hermione, however, stood fast and stared into the open chest, as if hypnotized by the contents.
"Hermione, let Ron see what's inside, it is his chest."
"NO. This isn't meant for him, there's something special about this, but. It's as if…"
Harry pulled her to one side, allowing Ron the chance to peer inside, and knelt in front of the trunk, the first object he spotted was a sheet of parchment lying on top. He picked it up and a broken, burnt wand fell from the folds. The silent thump startled the group, as Ron read simple message on the parchment, "For Hermia."
Those two words caused a startled gasp from Hermia's descendant. Ron picked up the wand fragment and handed it, gently, to Hermione. As it touched her fingers, certain memories began to return. The inevitable flood began with a trickle.
"It was hers. Merlin gave it back to me before I left." She said absent-mindedly as she stood in front of the chest, Harry closed the gap to her side as she stared at the object in her hand.
The others turned and stared at her, Harry was the first to ask. "How?"
"How what? What are you talking about?" Her head snapped back as she replied, as if the trance disappeared and with it the fleeting memories.
"You just said Merlin returned this to you." Ron answered.
"Don't be daft, how could I have gotten this from anyone, let alone Merlin when I just now saw it for the first time?"
They all looked into the chest again, and a leather pouch sat on a stack of older parchments and books. A number of faded and tattered robes sat under the few volumes, obviously not prepared for long term storage. Ron reached inside to remove the pouch, and was greeted with a mild shock, knocking the pouch from his grasp.
"Damn, who put that in here?" he cursed under his breath.
As if she knew the answer, The Lost Witch reached inside and lifted the pouch, sat on the floor and set it on her lap. Harry followed suit, sitting at her side, with the others watching her every move. She gently opened the flap to reveal the contents as her family watched. She removed a tunic with a familiar crest; it was dark tan and appeared to be a waist length garment. She held it out as it unfolded to its full size.
Instinctively she held it out to Harry. "Here, he wanted you to have this."
"Who? How…"
"I… don't remember, all I know is this was meant for you."
Harry took the garment from his wife and stood to put the tunic on. It draped on his frame as it was obviously owned by a man with broader shoulders. He ignored the larger size and pulled the sides around him.
"Who did this belong to? He must have been a huge bloke, its a few sizes too big."
"James. It was his before he died; Alden gave it to me for you." She replied as if in her trance again.
"James? My father?" he asked shocked.
"Who's Alden?" Ron asked. Each new object added to a new mystery.
"Alden? James? Really, what are you two babbling about?" Her confusion to her own comments added to the mystery.
The next object she removed, this time with a noticeably shaky hand, was a drawing of a young girl with bushy hair standing next to a hooded figure. She dropped the picture as if it were aflame, burning her fingers, and let a gasp that brought all attention to that painting.
"That's you!" Ron exclaimed.
Harry picked it up from the floor, and examined the painting, the girl defiantly resembled his wife, but the picture wasn't right, the crest on the robe of the other figure wasn't that of Hogwarts, it was the same emblem on the tunic he now wore. The girl also wore a brown cloak with tan robes, drawn together with a broad leather belt. He turned the picture over and on the back it had a name and a date scratched into it. 'Petrel Madison' 1460 and what looked like an elongated "Z," or maybe a lightning bolt.
"Madison. That was Eileen's name." Harry commented. The others were too dumbfounded to comment. These artifacts were an obvious plant in the Burrow for her to find one day.
"And Hermia's last name, this must be a relative." Hermione added
"This must be the artist's mark and date maybe." Ron began to remember the details of the story Hermione told them about her family's history so many years ago. This was the obvious link between her and EIieen.
From the pouch, a handful of hand drawn sheets fell, and fluttered to the floor. Various crude depictions of a man wearing the same tunic Harry had draped over his frame, and a woman, older then the girl in the painting, but with the same family resemblances. A number was written on one of the sheets, 6-01-79.
The remaining pages in the pouch were bundled together, crudely bound into a book. Hermione held the pages and read the first lines, and the rest watched her face pale to sheet white. Numbed, she handed the top sheets to Harry. His first reaction was surprise, as they were written in Parseltongue, just like the manuscript they studied years ago, except this had her unmistakable handwriting style. Even in the cryptic language, it was obviously in her hand. He read the letter, to himself as the others watched in confusion. Hermione stared at the floor, shaking.
(my date Sept 25, 1479)
To me and to Harry
This journal details my experiences after Jason and Janet's funeral. I cannot give any other accounting except the one I have been given. I was taken by a time-portkey to the past, to aid Hermia.
Please forgive me, I may have changed the past, I don't know if any of this was real or simply a dream. I have prayed for this to be an elaborate dream, the reality of what I had to do still frightens me.
I want you, Harry, to know I always thought of you, your memory kept me focused on what was important, us. Having children isn't as important anymore as being with you. I love you terribly; I hope that I will soon be with you.
All my love,
Hermione
Harry reread the message again, in disbelief. Hermione stood next to him with the message still fresh in her mind; the memories of that time were slowly returning, but fragmented as if they were from a forgotten dream. Flashes of her attacking the bandits without a wand, and leaning over a bloody man seemed more real then their last night of intimacy. Ron and Luna watched the exchange without a clue to the contents; only knowing it contained a disturbing message for them both.
Hermione remained standing there, still shaking while he looked at the second sheet, one she hadn't noticed and he watched the words crawl across the page randomly; the occasional phrase would stop as if they were searching for the rest. He watched as certain phrases glowed and then blended into the sheet.
Dark Lord marked… his spirit… their blood…
Their kin… sixth of seven… one whose star shines brighter… she is lost…
As the Dark Star rises… spirit lost… chains of passion… hate and turmoil… each destroying the other…
He thought about the phrases as they danced on the page, 'Dark Star, I wonder who…' he never finished that thought as he watched her continue to shake in fear. She still held the last bundle of papers clutched to her chest, also written so only she and Harry could read them and ran from the attic, with Harry close in pursuit. An image of a young girl, bloody and mutilated burned in her mind, wondering if that was her doing. She needed to read these sheets to find out what happened to her, she needed to get as far from this place as she could. She needed to be alone. She also wanted him with her, to hold her and re-assure her. She hadn't felt insecure like his since just before the funeral. At the bottom of the stairs, he caught up to her just as she pulled out her wand. She had raised her arm and before she could vanish, he threw his arms around her waist and they vanished together.
Ron had been seconds behind, still in a daze over the mysterious shared note, still ignorant of the contents. Luna alone remained staring at the open trunk. The pictures and a few documents lay scattered on the floor around it. Being the fourth of the three, she knew there was nothing she could do to help. Ron would return soon with either an explanation or more questions.
She released a sigh at the revelations already exposed expecting them to return once she clamed down. It wasn't her place to chase after them she was still the fourth of three. She peered into the trunk at the rest of the artifacts. Inside were old robes with the Hogwarts and the Gryffindor crests. 'Hmmm, I knew they all belonged in Gryffindor, this shows the Weasleys have always been in that house.' Under the robes, she found a pile of old scrolls drawings and more paintings.
The first of several drawings were landscapes, a painting of a scene of farmers tending their fields and one of an old oak tree near a pond. The next piece she picked up made her scream and drop the painting when she first saw the image. It was a much older looking Harry Potter. The man looked to be in his forties hair black as night down to his shoulders, deep blue eyes and a scar, but not the same as Harry's scar this was on his chin, and he was standing next to Godric Gryffindor in front of a half built castle. 'So, he's maybe he IS related to Godric Gryffindor after all. That would make his family one of the oldest wizard families in England.' On the back of that painting are the letters AD, but no year.
The first scroll she picked up was a dry read - an old landowner's deed for a large tract of land in the northern region. The signature was torn, but all she can make out was 'Ma---' and the Gryffindor Seal.
She picked up another scroll. It too was a land deed. The name on this one is clear, "Potter." 'I always knew his was an old family.' It's for the area in Gothic Hollow. 'That's where Harry was born.' The only date she could read said "In the year of our Lord 642 AD." 'WOW… this is more then 1300 years old. And it's 800 years older then the picture of that girl. That's 300 years before Hogwarts was founded.' The seal on this parchment was the same as the crest on that picture with the girl, it isn't like a normal crest; it was a round shield, with the image of a flaming sword. 'Quite unusual for a witch or wizard, more fitting for a warrior family.'
The last item was an ancient book. The cover had the title printed in gold leaf lettering, "The Family history of the Most Noble Families of Wizards." She fanned through the pages, without a clue what she was looking for; it appeared to be a family registry of all wizard families through the ages, and it also seemed to maintain itself as those named live, marry bare children and die. She found the Bagman family, the Bane Clan, the Black Family, then through the "D's", "E's", "F's", "G's"… the pages were faded, but many of the names are clear.
"I wonder… 'Potter'. 'M', there's a 'Madison' listed, a seer named Petrel Madison born no dates, a brother and sister Hermia Madison born 1462 AD died 1592 AD and Haimon Madison, 1460 AD to 1653 AD. Could that be Hermione's family? Here's 'P', 'Potter'. He's in here - and my God, there's Harry's family. The first entry is… Alycia Potter, No birth date, Died 518 AD. No husband, three surviving children Francis born 425 AD died 602 AD, Stephan Born 423 AD Died 598 AD, and Annikyn Born 430 AD, Died… no date…"
She thumbed through the rest of the Potters, to find Harry's name and his birth date. Under the Madison listing she also found a branch that had the names obscured until she found Hermione's name with a direct link to Harry. Curious she then looked for Weasley, and found an entry that also dated back hundreds of years, and noticed the entry for Matilda and Patrick with a date the same as Hermia.
Ron startled her as she read these notations, with an announcement that the Potters had left, obviously upset and pained. She felt his concern for them, and felt that twinge of jealousy that accompanied these moments that pulled him from her, even for a few moments.
Very few things have had this deep an affect on the witch, her parents' murder, her own death, even the death of her children. This was deeper. This was proof that she had not always been in control of her life. Some one or some thing caused her to forget what is in the pages she clutched. She wanted to burn them and not know what things she had done. She wanted to read them and understand what she had done. She wanted to hunt down and destroy those that did this to her. They manipulated her to do the unthinkable, she altered the past.
She tried to get away from him, she was afraid she had done was against all they fought for and all he stood for. She was afraid to face a possible truth that she failed him. She wanted to read this bundle of pages alone. The images of unknown people bleeding and broken screamed through her mind, reaching deep in her own thoughts. Who were these bodies and why did they affect her? She wanted to be alone to face her own fears.
He wouldn't let her.
"What's wrong?" Were his first words to her, even though he never let go of her when she disapparated from the Burrow; he never took his eyes from her. Slung over one arm was a familiar satchel, he grabbed it absent mindedly as he chased her.
"Go away, Harry I need to be alone. I can't… remember…"
"You can't remember what's in those pages. All I needed to know was in that first page. Everything else doesn't matter. What happened is done. What ever you did I'm certain you didn't initiate. I know you better."
"But…"
"What? That I'd be ashamed? That I'd discover some deep dark secret that even you can't remember? Have you forgotten what we promised each other? That you would always stand with me, and I would always support you, no matter what."
"But what if…"
"What if… What if Voldemort didn't kill my parents? What if I never found out I was a wizard? What if Dumbledore pulled me away from you that day? What if a thousand different things in OUR lives had been different? Not my life, and not your life, OUR lives. You always use to try and keep me from blaming myself for things I couldn't control. Now, take your own advice. Let's decide here and now to either read that or destroy it forever."
"But then we'd…"
"We'd know no more and no less then what we know right now. I love you, and that won't ever change."
"But…"
"No. It's your decision to read those pages. We can do what's right or what's easy. I for one would like to know what adventure you had. You wrote to me that you had no control. You also said you had to help Hermia, that is the girl from your family's past, the one that started this lost witch thing. I say we read this and put it behind us."
She clutched the papers tighter and thought about everything he just said. About everything that had happened to them and to her. About the pain and the suffering she'd endured. She began to realize the magnitude of suffering she'd endured. Every fear every painful moment flooded her mind in that instant and clouded her judgment. Every moment of joy she had was overshadowed just long enough to doubt herself. She finally turned in his arms to face him. She made her decision.
She kissed him, and as he loosened his grip she stared into his eyes.
"Forgive me," she said as she allowed herself to fall backward. Only then did he realize where they were standing. He watched in horror, unable to do a thing as she slipped beyond the veil.
He watched as the cloth that covered the opening continued to flutter where she passed through. For the second time in this generation a scream broke the silence, that scream shook the magical world to its core once again. He stood at the opening, unable to move, unable to think, unable to understand.
'Not again,' he thought, 'I can't lose you again.' He felt his body sway, he felt his knees buckle, and the disorientation of the fall scrambled his remaining thoughts as he fell forward unchecked.
The room stood empty as the cloth that covered the opening continued to flutter one last time.