Author's Note: I won't even make an excuse for how long I haven't updated…other than the fact that I successfully made a hovercraft (one person!). Whoo!
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Odd, really.
His apprehension of taking his friends with him on his quest gone, Mrs. Weasley approached and mollified, and Ginny troubled but accepting-somehow Harry felt as though his quest was already done, yet it hadn't even begun.
"Quests truly begin with your heart," a knightly portrait had once said in the Headmaster's room, and Harry quite believed it.
They were packing right now, or at least he was. Ron and Hermione had already finished, having taken full advantage of their wand-wielding capabilities. Harry figured that even if he had had the legalities to do so, he wouldn't have. Eying a rain jacket, he concentrated hard, and it soon flew into place in his bag. The tasks were getting so monotonous to him he didn't even say spells in his head any more. Now he simply focused on a command, or a wish of what he wanted done. It was harder, as the magical act created an odd sense of resistance, but it offered a promise of less brain, and more will power-something Harry would go for any day.
A light drizzle coated the land. It was satisfying to a point that comforted Harry very much. The drizzle was not large enough to create any sound, but was one of those showers that simply made everything feel alive, even though it was grey and wet outside. It was one of the few showers that felt good when you walked in it-wakened the senses and promoted clearer thinking. Harry himself had participated on walks through this very type of rain, and had come out very calm and satisfied indeed. A perfect time to brood.
Harry sat down on the bed corner, facing the window.
Today, he and Hermione would be going to Privet Drive. Mrs. Weasley had asked to Ron, in a private talk, to stay a couple more days until Harry's Birthday, where he would rejoin them at the Dursley's. Mrs. Weasley had apparently wanted a few more days with her son, and considering the situation, it was a more than valid reasoning. Besides, Harry would much rather have Hermione at the Dursleys than Ron, no offense to him, but he simply does not have the social tact that Hermione has.
Harry suddenly realized that his packing was done. The only thing left to do was to close the top of the bag. Funny thing, at that. Harry could easily close it by simply waving his hand, but by sheer boredom, had found that he could complete these menial tasks by simply making any motion he wanted, as long as the intent was there. He could bow, curtsy, flick his ankle, snap his fingers and hell-even flip the thing off and it would still produce the desired effect.
Harry walked by the bag, dramatically pointing at it and successfully closing it while he headed downstairs.
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Harry and Hermione stood looking at each other, outside the door of Harry's home.
Harry couldn't help but ask, "You ready?"
"Yup."
"Really?"
Hermione simply looked at him, questioning.
"Are you still adamant on the enslavement of House Elves or any human creature?"
"Of course! I know I was a bit off last year, but how could I not help bu-"
"Yes, yes, I know Hermione, but realize that we're stepping into my other world, and here enslavement reigns with a realm of acceptance just as large as the Wizarding World has, okay? So please, we're only here a few days, and I know it's going to kill you, but don't try and make any efforts to dismantle it okay?"
"Of course Harry, for you."
And with that, Harry opened the door (which Hermione noted had been locked only seconds ago) and walked up the step into the house. He turned around.
"Besides, I want to be the liberator, not anyone else."
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The Dursley's were not home, so they went straight in. The house, of course, was no different than what it was sixteen years ago. A few pictures here and there produced a changed scenery, but other than that-nothing.
Harry could see Hermione quickly calculate her environment. It must be weird for her, to be in such a place. But then again, Harry had no idea what her home environment was like either.
Hermione stopped in front of the fireplace mantle, where most of the pictures resided.
"Are you in any pictures?"
The look Harry gave her was incredulous to the point of distain.
Hermione merely muttered a soft downcast sigh of understanding.
"Actually, there is one."
Harry strode to Hermione's side, locked eyes with her, and then pointed casually a few pictures to the right.
The Dursley's were standing next to who Hermione supposed was Aunt Marge. They were posing outside in the backyard of the house. She didn't see Harry anywhere.
"Up there, look at the window in the upper left."
The window was miniscule, as the Dursley's were standing quite far away. Hermione squinted a little harder, all she could see was a little dot in the picture where a cinder or something must have burnt it on acc-"
"See me? Sirius and I had more in common than I think we even knew."
By the time Hermione had already recovered, Harry was three quarters of the way up the stairs.
"Coming?"
She hurried to the stairs, which were by the door, but was stopped in utter awe of a tiny little door to what seemed was a mini coat closet. Hermione snapped her eyes to Harry's, who gave the affirmative nod of "yes, that's it" and walked the rest of the way up to the room.
* * *
Hermione slowly walked to Harry's room, only pausing on a rather creaky bottom step and made her way into Harry's room. Her mind buzzed with ruminations.
Harry had been remarkably introverted these past couple of days, and she expected it had to do with the Dursley's and the upcoming quest. He couldn't blame him, but it was such a difference from the jovial Harry of only a couple days ago. He had always been silent, but after a glimpse of Harry simply being a teenage boy, the image was hard to let go.
But the teenage Harry was not Harry. Another time, another place, another person. The real Harry was the one upstairs right now-Cognitive, proud, and loyal to a fault. He was changing, for sure, but some characteristics stay with people all their lives-and with Harry, those characteristics were developing into something powerful.
Everyone had noticed the changes Harry had undergone this past summer. He truly was beginning to become immensely formidable. He always had been a staunch enemy, with feline agility and a strong will. But now his assets were being fortified with a sound and intelligent mind-a mind that had been previously too bogged down with massive preoccupations and childlike ignorance. Harry was beginning to understand the world better. This development was undeniably invaluable for his survival and ultimate triumph, but it was sad too-like a child seeing an evil act for the first time.
Oh Harry…
He was neither a man nor a child. How can you be a child if you never had a childhood worth speaking of? Are you then a man? Yet, if you didn't have a childhood, is it possible to be a man?
Here, in the room before her was a person who was the byproduct of hate, abuse, and murder, and was the epitome of purity.
Hermione had to stop a moment before she walked into the bedroom to hold back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her.
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To say the Dursleys were surprised would be a severe understatement. Petunia and Vernon entered, Petunia with groceries at hand-or at least for a while. Upon seeing Harry and Hermione sitting at the dining table drinking milk, Petunia immediately dropped the groceries while Vernon pulled a face so comical it bordered on just plain gross.
Hermione expected Harry to take advantage of their stupor to get in what he had to say, for she had noticed he had a knack for taking advantage of those types of situations to interject his say in things. But he didn't.
"Wh-wh-what are you doing here?" Vernon's face was livid with rage and astonishment.
"I'll be staying here the next couple of days until my birthday-in three days."
Hermione seriously felt, like Harry, that they hadn't the slightest idea when his birthday was.
Vernon, who seemed unable to gain a footing in the start of the conversation replied unconvincingly, "What makes you think you can do that?!"
Unlike every year before, Harry suddenly had the upper conviction of the confrontation. He could basically feel the grudging respect of Vernon, and Harry merely passed it off as one of those perks of growing up that hit some people.
"It's my orders, and plus, I want to."
"Who is she anyways? I don't think I recognize her…"
"This is Hermione, she and my other friend, Ron, who will be coming on my birthday, will be staying with me until we leave, forever."
Hermione momentarily thought of going to shake their hands, but Vernon's were currently preoccupied with clenching themselves, and Petunia was busy using hers to pick up some meandering oranges. So, she just smiled, and turned her attention to Harry, completely ignoring their bewildered expressions.
Vernon shuffled to the umbrella stand and whipped out an umbrella, gripping it so hard his beefy fingers glowed with rage.
"Well, boy, one racket, one misplaced comment or majical thingy, you're head will be on this umbrella point!" And with exaggerated emphasis, he gestured his umbrella in what he thought was a menacing way.
A year ago, perhaps, it would have been, but now…
"No need to worry about us attracting unnecessary attention, I am well conditioned in doing so, and Hermione has parents who cannot do magic as well, so she's well versed too."
Vernon peered at Hermione with a new light, but still it did nothing to quell his maddened state.
"Sixteen years you've been with us, and it's been bloody hell! If you stay one more day, I swear I will kick you out of this house!"
Hermione could have sworn Harry's eyes sparkled.
Apparently refusing to answer, Harry casually waved his hand, and an orange, who was currently taking refuge in the ginormous shadow of Vernon Dursley, flew into the unsuspecting hand of Petunia-of whom gasped in shock.
And with that Harry made eye contact with Hermione, a hint of amusement in his eye, and beckoned her to leave with him upstairs.
Hermione subtly nodded towards the table, where their half full glasses of milk still stood on the table.
Harry mouthed backed to her, "Leave them."
Both smiling, they left together and headed upstairs.
And Vernon and Petunia didn't do a thing about it, or anything.
Times had changed at Privet Drive.
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If someone had told Hermione that she would be having the time of their life studying with Harry, she would have laughed.
But for three hours and going, they had been reading books, and simply telling each other what they found interesting, and whatever comments they wished to make on them.
Harry was laying on the floor on a bunch of blankets, and Hermione, though not by choice, had Harry's bed. Harry's room was small, but with the right atmosphere, it was quite cozy.
"Hermione listen to this!" Harry said.
Hermione popped her head over the edge of the bed to find Harry's emerald eyes looking back at her from the floor. She smiled.
"What is it?"
"This is a side note on a chapter from the book Uses of the Mind, which states that it is possible to `talk' to someone without actually saying something."
Hermione was instantly drawn in, "Like Leglimency, but verbal?"
"Exactly."
They both withdrew to their reading positions, both brooding on the new found knowledge.
Hermione herself was immersed a book devoted to defensive spells. It was really interesting, but like most books strictly devoted to spells, it was hard to find the fine line of which spells to memorize. The trick was to memorize and find spells that could deflect a wide variety of spells, so as to avoid having to remember a separate defensive spell for each spell cast at you.
Magic was not a topic in which was uniform enough for most people to get a good idea of generalities such as simple glossaries or encyclopedias. Most of the deciphering was up to the reader, for the author often didn't have enough comprehensive knowledge of magic as a whole to do so. Books of magic were usually just pinholes of knowledge and insight of the mysteries of magic. Only a few people, such as Dumbledore, could grasp, at least a little bit, the enormity of magic.
It was interesting how a whole race was entirely dependent on something they don't even fully understand.
"Actually," Harry interrupted her thoughts, "even though we are dependent on it, apparently at one point in time in our far past, we did understand magic."
Hermione immediately shot straight up in her bed, "You read my mind! Leglimency!"
Harry simply smiled and continued, "But, like all things that are expounded and capitalized on, in time the understanding and insight into magic was slowly lost. Now, we are left to seeking answers that we've known before, but simply forgotten."
Hermione was still in shock.
Harry continued to lecture, "There are rumors, of course, stating that the knowledge is held beneath this tree or in this mirror or whatnot. But the most prevalent of all of the rumors and theories is that-"
Hermione interrupted him, "-Merlin himself wrote on scrolls the basis of magic itself, and it is said that whoever possessed them would wield magic in ways unimaginable today."
They both smiled, and said in unison, "Hogwarts, A History?"
A comfortable silence ensued as a new bond formed.
"Oh, and I've been practicing Leglimency all summer." Harry tossed the book that had helped him to Hermione, who caught it deftly.
"Thank you."
"Anytime."
"Say Hermione…"
"Yes."
Harry climbed up and sat on the bed next to Hermione, who was laying down.
"Hi."
"Hi."
Both of them cast their eyes everywhere but each other. Harry spoke first.
"I'm sorry this year was tough for you, it was tough for all of us."
"I know Harry, I know…times are changing Harry, and we must make do as much as we can."
Once more silence established its presence.
"It's going to be so hard."
The simple statement from Harry silenced Hermione, who couldn't seem to shake off the blunt reality of the statement for a moment. But when she did, "We'll make it though, and if we don't, I'm pretty sure there isn't a better cause to fight for."
"And if there isn't a better cause to fight for, we can always fight for each other, of that I'm sure is the best cause, if anything…Thanks for being here for me. You don't know what it means to me to have you here, and Ron's support as well. I've never really been, well, `liked' in this house, and to have you here-and Ron in two days-is simply amazing to me. Right now, Voldemort is nothing to me."
And it suddenly seemed to two teenagers that each other was the most beautiful person they had ever met.
The dim but warm light from Harry's bedside light cast a glowing reverence to each other's faces, and they stared each other unabashedly. Their eyes met, and an amazing feeling of understanding and love shot straight from their hearts, through their eyes, to each other. Chocolate met emerald. Harry was wearing an old tattered shirt and a washed out pair of shorts and Hermione was wearing blue pajamas with her bed covers pulled up to her chin-yet somehow, in some inexplicable way, they could not have appeared any more perfect to the other. They hadn't just regained the friendship they had lost the past year, they had gained something more.
They didn't know that that something would take them the very ends of the earth and back.
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