Lies and Illusions chp. 3
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, I'm just borrowing her characters.
Author's note: This chapter will shift focus from Harry (where it's always been), to Hermione, and then back to
Harry. I'll
put in my normal scene breaks when the shifts occur.
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Chapter 3
Hermione's Questions
They didn't arrive at Privet Drive until the next day.
Harry hadn't planned on staying in London over night, but as it turned out they had no choice. Luna said goodbye to the trio after meeting her father on platform nine and three-quarters. Moving through King's Cross, they found no one there to meet them. Ron had talked to his parents before leaving school. The Grangers knew their daughter had passed her apparation test, so there was no need for them to drive all the way to London to pick her up. There was no sign of the Dursleys either.
Hermione suggested that they might want to make sure they had enough money, wizard and Muggle, in case it was needed. So the three of them enchanted their school trunks for easy handling and used the few pounds she had to take a cab to Charing Cross Road where the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley were. The current security measures at Gringott's meant they had to wait hours to go down to Harry's vault. The Gringott's cart left Hermione somewhat pale and saying she'd never complain about broomsticks again, even though she rejected that very idea as a way of traveling to the Dursleys'. Fortunately, exchanging some of the gold for Muggle pound notes only took a few minutes.
By the time they finished with the bank, it was too late to take a train to Surrey. Ron insisted on stopping by Weasley Wizard Wheezes to interrogate his brothers about the Instant Darkness Powder that Draco Malfoy had used during the attack on Hogwarts. Fred and George were rather annoyed by his accusations because someone from the Ministry of Magic had already been by asking about it. Although they'd proved that it didn't come from their store, their remaining supply was confiscated. Closing up the shop, the twins shared a drink with them at the Leaky Cauldron before turning in for the night.
The next day, Harry and Hermione faced the hardest part of their journey -- getting Ron Weasley from London to Little Whinging using only Muggle transportation. Being a pure-blood wizard, he had very little knowledge or experience in the non-magical world. The ticket gates and escalators were completely new to him and the train they rode on looked nothing like the Hogwarts Express. On the other hand; he freely admitted that the Muggle bus that dropped them off a few blocks from their destination was far preferable to its magical counterpart.
When the three of them finally reached number four, Privet Drive, they received a very cold welcome.
Petunia Dursley glared when she saw them.
"Why are you here?!" she screeched at them, "Who are these two?!"
A loud hiss came from Crookshanks' wicker basket as Harry replied, "These are my friends Aunt Petunia, I believe you've met Ron Weasley -" The way her eyes bulged out of their sockets proved that she did, in fact, remember him. "- and this is my other best friend, Hermione Granger."
"Ma'am." Hermione gave her a brief, guarded look before going back to examining the room. She didn't seem any happier than her cat.
Harry continued, "Something came up at school, so we were sent home early. Professor Dumbledore made it quite clear that he wanted me to come here one last time so I did. Ron and Hermione insisted on staying with me this summer. I think it's best if she took the guest room; we can conjure a camp bed for Ron in mine, even if it is a bit cramped. Now, before you say anything else, I should tell you that both of them are of age and can do magic anytime they want. You might want to tell Uncle Vernon and Dudley that the first chance you get, just so they don't try anything stupid. If you stay away from us, we'll stay away from you. We won't be staying very long." With that, he led his two companions upstairs.
Petunia didn't move for several minutes. She didn't know what disturbed her most: the way her nephew just talked to her, the presence of a boy who's father blew apart her living room three years ago, or the girl with the hissing basket. She had barely said a word, but Petunia had the strangest feeling about her....
**********
The trio spent as much time as they could in Harry and Ron's small room. Since they were no longer very likely to be overheard by any of Voldemort's spies, they had decided to start working on a plan to find the missing Horcruxes. Unfortunately, they had little more then what Harry had learned from his "special lessons" with Dumbledore to work with. While he had taught Harry a lot about Voldemort's history, the old wizard had said very little about how to find the Horcruxes the Dark Lord had created, and nothing at all about destroying them.
Hermione, borrowing an idea from the Marauder's Map, charmed a roll of parchment so a password was needed to read it. Harry asked her where she learned the spell.
With a shy look she told him, "I got Sirius to tell me a bit about they made the Map before he died."
Creating a secure way to store what clues they had didn't help all that much, for they still didn't have a lot to work with.
They had four objects to find. One of them, a locket that once belonged to Salazar Slytherin, had been stolen by a disgruntled Death Eater with the initials R.A.B.. Another was a snake named Nagini - she'd most likely be near Voldemort and it was quickly agreed that she should be handled last, if possible. There was too big a chance of her death alerting the enemy to their plans. They had no idea where the cup that once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff could be. The last Horcrux was even harder to decide on since they didn't even know what it was. All they knew was that it had once belonged to either Godric Gryffindor or Rowena Ravenclaw.
"It has to be something of Ravenclaw's," Hermione stated on the third day of work, "as far as I know, Gryffindor never kept many truly personal possessions. About the only things of his I've ever read about were his wand, which was cremated with his body; his mail coat, that was destroyed in one of the goblin rebellions; and his sword, which Harry found in the Sorting Hat."
Harry looked up when she said that. "I always wondered how the sword landed up in there."
She made a helpless gesture. "I wish I knew. All I can tell you is that it had been missing for centuries."
"That's all well and good, Hermione," Ron cut in, "but it still doesn't give us a clue where to start!"
As much as his two friends didn't want to admit it, Ron had a point. Right now, they simply lacked the information they needed to begin their search.
"It's all right Harry, we've only been working on it for a few days. We knew this wasn't going to be easy or get done overnight. If it was, someone else would have done it a long time ago," Hermione calmly told him.
Despite her reassurance, Harry got the impression that she believed the three of them were in over their heads -- and part of him couldn't help feeling the same way.
**********
The next morning they decided to take a break from their work since they weren't getting anywhere. This suited Hermione just fine, because there was something else she wanted to investigate.
Hermione, unlike most girls, wasn't ruled by her emotions. A few of her classmates had claimed she she didn't even have feelings, but in truth she had very strong ones -- she just kept them under tight control most of the time. Emotions just weren't reliable in her opinion, so instead she relied on books, logic, and her own carefully trained intellect to guide her actions. She had her reasons. There was a part of herself that she couldn't rationally explain, a secret she'd never shared with anyone. It was always there, under her bossy know-it-all exterior, but very few people seemed to notice that particular aspect of her anymore.
But after three days in the Dursley house, she couldn't ignore the warnings she felt from that distant corner of her soul any longer. She had never liked the Dursleys, even though she had barely met them before. But the scattered encounters she had with them showed her just how unpleasent they truly were. As if the dirty looks she received from his aunt and the angry sneers from his uncle weren't bad enough, Dudley gave her a very disturbing leer on the second day of their visit. Fortunately, she didn't have to deal with him by herself.
"Leave her alone, Diddykins," Harry warned his cousin, "unless you want her to finish what Hagrid started."While Hermione didn't know what her friend was talking about, it was enough to positively terrify Dudley Dursley.
Apparently, she wasn't the only one who didn't get along with Harry's relatives. Ron kept brandishing his wand, and talking about his brothers as he walked around the house. Crookshanks made it even more clear that he didn't approve of this house or like its owners, despite his inability to speak. Hermione's cat followed her like a furry bodyguard everywhere she went, hissing and baring his claws at any of the Dursleys who crossed his path. At night, he wouldn't let her sleep unless she put a locking charm on her door first. While Hermione might not trust her own instincts, her half-kneazle familiar was never wrong about people. If Crookshanks didn't like these Muggles, she was sure he had a good reason.
Today she had her chance to take a good look around. All of the Dursleys were out of the house for once: Vernon was at work, Dudley hadn't even come home last night, and Petunia was out shopping. It was the prefect opportunity for her to figure out just what was going on here.
Hermione entered the smallest bedroom that morning and found Ron digging through his trunk. She quickly looked around.
"Good morning, Ron, where's Harry?"
"Taking a shower" was his absent-minded response. "Have you seen the stuff we got from the twin's shop? I thought we'd give Harry's berk of a cousin a little surprise."
"No," she said stiffly, "but I did want to talk to you. About the Dursleys."
"What about them?" he growled.
"You've been here before, did you notice anything -- off about them?"
Ron finally looked at her. "I don't know, only met them once and it's not like we stayed for tea or anything. Then again, Harry never really told me why they put bars on his window that one...."
Her eyes went wide. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'THEY PUT BARS ON HIS WINDOW'?!" she shrieked. Hermione pointed at the door, "Was that lock there? Why didn't you tell someone?"
Her redheaded friend raised his hands in surrender. "Woah, calm down Hermione! I told Mum and she threatened to do the same thing to my window! I think the lock was there, I remember George having to pick it so him and Fred could get Harry's trunk." He spoke very fast, afraid she'd hurt him if he didn't.
Deciding that she'd heard enough, the young witch started giving orders.
"Ron, I need you to keep Harry busy. Play chess with him, prank his cousin -- I don't care, just don't tell him what I'm doing. Crookshanks, would you keep an eye out for the Dursleys?"
The cat bristled and spat.
"You want to help me?" she tried again.
This time he purred.
Hermione sighed, "Okay. Hedwig, would you let me know if any of Harry's relatives come home?" The snowy owl seemed to nod in answer. She had been waiting for them when they came to Privet Drive.
"What are you going to do?" came a nervous voice.
"Find out what Harry isn't telling us."
**********
Hermione spent hours trying to find some clue about what had been going on in this house. She now understood what Tonks meant when she called the place "unnaturally clean" but it barely scratched the surface. Being in this house was almost like being in a museum; in that it was pretty to look at but somehow lacked the feeling of being actually lived in. Based on what she'd seen of them and their home, the Dursleys seemed to have an obsession with what others thought of them. Perhaps her recent experience with Horace Slughorn had something to do with it, but Hermione got the impression that everything here existed for the sole purpose of conveying a particular image of its owners.
Everything, that is, except Harry Potter.
Harry's bedroom door had caught her attention days ago -- it was set up to be locked from the outside and had a cat flap at the bottom. Ron's story about when he and his brothers had saved their friend years ago had made her start drawing a very ugly picture in her head. She had a sneaking suspicion that, for reasons she'd never understand, Harry's relatives had turned his room into some kind prison cell during the summer before their second year .
As she searched, more things about this house failed to add up. Harry had been living here for sixteen years, but the house didn't show the slightest sign of his presence. However, it did show her that the Dursleys weren't hurting for money. Furthermore, if his relatives had money, why was Harry always dressed in old clothes at least three sizes bigger then his skinny frame? Which led to another problem: judging by the sheer mass of his uncle and cousin, there was no shortage of food in this house. So why then had Harry always been so small and thin? At least he'd been at Hogwarts during his main growth spurt. The meals there had made sure he reached his current, very attractive -
Hermione shook her head violently; this wasn't the time to be thinking of those things.
She was considering the idea of talking to the neighbors when she saw Crookshanks pawing at the door to the cupboard under the stairs. Deciding she had nothing to lose, Hermione undid the latch and crawled into the tiny room. Even with the light on, she found it to be a rather dark and dreary place.
"You think there's something in here?" she asked her familiar, brushing a spider out of her hair.
Climbing over her, the cat sniffed around until he settled on one spot in an inner corner, under the lowest shelf.
Turning around in the cupboard proved difficult at best, and she had to move her bandy-legged cat as well. Lying on her side with her feet sticking out the door, Hermione moved the various odds and ends around until her fingers found an oddly shaped object. It turned out to be a small toy in the form of a mounted knight. Turning it over revealed the name "Harry" crudely scratched into the base.
How did it get here? Why was it in this cupboard? Sitting up with these thoughts in her head, she noticed the air vent in the cupboard door. The feeling of being a small, unwanted child who was locked away because they didn't fit their relatives' notion of propriety settled over her and refused to leave.
"No...." she told herself, "They couldn't have.... It's your imagination, Her-"
"Hermione?"
Snapping her eyes open, Hermione saw Harry's lean silhouette standing outside the cupboard. She'd been so caught up in her thoughts, she hadn't heard him come downstairs.
**********
Ron Weasley was a great chess player, but a lousy actor.
Harry had asked where Hermione was shortly after he finished his shower. As he set up his pieces for a game of Wizard Chess, Ron said that she was having a lie-in. The games passed in the normal fashion -- Ron won, but it seemed liked he was spending far more time between moves than usual. There was no sign of Hedwig or Crookshanks either.
When Ron finally took a trip to the loo, Harry went to check on the female member of their little band. He was surprised to find her door unlocked, the bed neatly made, and the room completely empty.
Rather than waiting for another cover story, Harry headed downstairs to find Hermione -- hopefully before anything happened between her and any of the Dursleys. Not that he thought she couldn't take care of herself; she was the brightest witch he knew, after all. He just didn't trust his relatives any farther then he could throw them.
A quick glance showed that she wasn't in the silent living room. Then a soft noise drew him to the hallway where he
saw two denim-covered legs sticking out of the cupboard with a large ball of orange fur sitting next to them. Unwelcome
memories of the ten years that place served as his room flooded his mind. Pushing those bleak feelings aside, he peered
in and called Hermione's name.
With a very surprised "Harry!", she quickly climbed out of the cupboard.
"What were you doing in there?" he asked in a harsh, but worried, tone.
Hermione seemed to tremble a bit as she said, "I...I was just...looking for something."
"Did you find it?" he inquired further.
"Maybe." She steadied herself as she passed a small object into his hand.
Harry recognized his forgotten toy almost immediately, but tried to hide his reaction as best he could. "If you needed something, why didn't you ask me about it?"
"Would you have told me?" she answered with a calculating look.
The bad feeling he had got worse. "Why...? Hermione, what are you on about?" Harry asked without thinking.
"You tell me, Harry." she said with a forced calm, "Tell me why your aunt and uncle found it necessary to lock you in your bedroom after putting bars on the window. Or maybe you can explain why they would hide all evidence of your existence. How about telling me exactly why you had to owl Ron and me for food three years ago when your uncle and cousin can barely fit through that door! Speaking of size, why do you always wear your cousin's old clothes when they're clearly too big for you?" Hermione's voice cracked with the last sentence. Then, to make one last point, she stepped closer to Harry and gently touched his glasses. "When we first met, your glasses were being held together with tape. How did they get broken, Harry? Why weren't they replaced?"
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ron come down on the staircase behind him and inadvertently cut off his only retreat. He knew there was no way to avoid telling her now, not with Hermione standing so close he could almost feel the warmth of her body. Her eyes were far worse though, and he found himself unable (or was it unwilling?) to look away from them. This close, he could see the finest details in those remarkable brown orbs, and every one of them was radiating her concern for him.
"Harry, please..." she pleaded with him.
"I don't know what to -" He stopped when those pretty eyes narrowed into her don't-mess-with-me look. "- I mean, where to start."
Letting out a relieved sigh, she grasped his hand in hers and led him into the kitchen.
"You can start with the beginning."
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end chapter 3