A/N: Ever hear of the theory of punctuated equilibrium? The idea is that species don't evolve at a gradual rate; rather, they stay about the same for millions and millions of years before some great asteroid hits and creates havoc and upheaval and then all sorts of things happen rather quickly. That's how my plot seems to be playing out…Dumbledore's death is the asteroid, and things are really wild and wooly for a while until the characters evolve and a new sort of equilibrium reestablishes itself. And of course all those wild and wacky events need to be described, right?
That's my excuse for what will be a seven-chapter day, and I'm sticking with it. Here's the hump chapter.
Disclaimer: These are not my characters. I'm not making any money out of this. Usual Stuff.
Chapter 4 - More Travel (at least it's within London)
Platform 9 ¾ was quiet when the Hogwarts Express pulled into King's Cross Station. For security reasons, parents had been kept on the muggle side of the brick-walled entrance. Once the all-clear was given, prefects allowed small groups of students off the train one at a time, and teams of aurors quickly shepherded each group across the barrier and into the arms of their parents. The process was streamlined through Ministry of Magic arranged "Closed for Repair" signs, floor-to-ceiling tarps and some well-placed muggle repelling charms.
Hermione, Ron and Ginny were in one of the last groups to leave the train. Siblings were grouped together, and prefects had to ensure that all within their houses were accounted for.
Neither Ginny nor Hermione were all that happy Ron at that moment. Ginny's ears still stung from his scolding; although Ron hadn't actually caught her snogging, it didn't escape him that she spent most of the trip thigh-against-thigh with Dean Thomas. Worse, she apparently hadn't even looked for Harry, or realized that he had left the train back at Hogwarts.
Hermione was ill at ease for a different reason. Ron had gotten upset when she suggested that the prefects split up one per carriage to facilitate continuous monitoring; he had apparently expected to patrol hand-in-hand. Hermione had thought this to be a tad presumptuous. Sure, he had been there for her during the funeral, and hadn't left her side from there to the tower and back to the train. There had been, however, no discussion about how things stood between them…whether they were finally looking at themselves as a couple. It was as if Lavender had set the standard for warp speed relationship progression.
"So what are you going to do now that Harry's gone missing?" asked Ron, as another batch of students left the train.
"Besides sending my otter out to chew on his leg until he lets us know he's safe? I don't know," she replied.
"Could always stay with us," Ron said hopefully.
"No," said Hermione, as she sized up his intentions. "I might as well use the time to be with my parents. I'm still underage on the other side, and I'm going to have to coax a permission out of them to stay with Harry this summer."
"Yeah, well," replied Ron, "don't think that being of age is going to make it any easier for me to tell Mum I'm not staying at the Burrow this summer, much less skiv out on seventh year."
Tonks stepped into the car. "Your turn, guys."
"Heard from Harry?" asked Hermione.
"Nothing yet," Tonks replied with a slight smile. That had been the eighth time Hermione had asked. "I'm going to get his trunk to his relatives, then pop back to Hogwarts to check with McGonagall."
Hermione nodded, as she checked off the last three names on the Gryffindor roster, shooed Crookshanks into his travel box, and began to drag her trunk towards the head of the car.
"What are you doing?" ask Ron. "Forget your age already?" Ron pointed his wand at his trunk and levitated it towards the car door.
"No worries you haven't," Hermione replied as she dropped her hold on her trunk handle and levitated both her trunk and Ginny's. "You plan on grabbing anything other than your wand this summer?"
"Won't need to with you around, I image," Ron said, waggling his eyebrows.
Ginny's trunk lost altitude and hit Ron behind his knees. He tumbled backward and ended up flat on his back on the trunk's lid.
"But he's so used to grabbing his own wand," Ginny giggled. "Why should he stop now?"
Hermione's smile at Ginny's comment turned into a scowl as she turned towards Ron. She raised her wand towards him, ignoring Ron's look of uncertainty, and cast a shrinking spell on Ginny's trunk. It shrank to the size of a paperback, which caused Ron to again fall, this time back flat on the floor. Ginny and Tonks laughed as Hermione performed the same spell on her own trunk and placed it in the pocket of her jacket.
"Oy, Hermione, what about mine?" Ron asked as he rubbed the back of his head.
"Oh," Hermione said with a smile, "I'll leave that to you. Wouldn't want you to lose your touch."
Ron let out an exasperated groan. He didn't even try to shrink his trunk - he had yet to master that transfiguration charm and didn't dare practice on something that contained most of his worldly possessions. He levitated his trunk again and guided it out onto a waiting cart on the platform.
An auror led the three through the brick wall as Tonks, wand drawn, looked up and down the platform. Hermione swore she could hear a loud maternal shriek even before she passed through the wall.
"Ron! Ginny! Come here you two!"
As Hermione walked through the wall she saw Mrs. Weasley smother her two youngest children using arms that looked as if they had been extended by one of the twin's products.
"Oh, and Hermione, give me a hug, too" Mrs. Weasley said. "I am so glad that you're all safe and sound."
"Not like you didn't just see us this morning, mum," Ginny said.
"Yes, well, I wish you could have floo'd home with us, but what with the security and the lines at Hogsmeade…where's Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked, suddenly realizing his absence.
"Erm, we don't really know," replied Ron. "Tonks said he was pulled off the train to meet with the Headmistress just before we left."
"Headmistress? Well, yes, I suppose so," said Mrs. Weasley stiffly. She grabbed Ron and Ginny's chins and asked, "How are you two doing?"
"Fine," Ron and Ginny replied, in a tone of voice that suggested otherwise.
"Yes, well, nothing some home cooking can't improve upon," said Mrs. Weasley, "once we get home, that is."
"Mom, don't tease me, you know the train doesn't have a dining car," Ron whined.
"We have to stop by St. Mungo's," said Mrs. Weasley. "Your father is trying to sort things out about Bill. Besides, once we use their floo connection we'll be home quicker than if we had taken a car."
"Why is Bill at St. Mungo's?" asked Hermione. "We saw him at the funeral - Madame Pomfrey released him from the infirmary didn't she?"
"Yes she did," said Mrs. Weasley, with a sharp edge in her voice. "But it seems that some busybodies from the Department of Magical Creatures have suddenly lost faith in her professional judgement. They've insisted he stay at St. Mungo's until the next full moon."
"Oh, no," said Hermione, "Fleur must be so upset…that's what, ten days away? What about the wedding plans?"
"So did they decide to call it off?" Ginny asked, full of hope.
"Certainly not, dear," said Molly with an air of certainty. "Nothing is going to stop their happiness…not that vile Greyback, or Scrimgeour, or anyone. Besides," she said trying to lighten her mood, "it's not as if the groom does a lot of the planning, right?"
A call came from across the hall. "Hermione! Over here!" Hermione looked up to see her parents waving at her.
"Excuse, me, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said with a happy but puzzled look on her face.
"Yes, of course, dear," Molly replied. "Do say hello to your parents for me, and don't be a stranger to the Burrow this summer, promise?"
Hermione nodded as she turned to Ron. "I'll let you know if I hear anything," she said. She gave him an awkward hug then ran towards her parents. For some reason, they were wearing ridiculously oversized red-rimmed spectacles and were terribly overdressed; her mother was wearing an evening gown, while her father was dressed in a tuxedo.
"Mum, Dad, it's so good to see you," Hermione said, after a few necessary moments of smothering. "But really, you didn't have to get all dressed up just for me."
"And why not," asked her mother, with spring in her voice. "Like the latest trend in fashion eyewear?"
"Let me guess," said Hermione. "They've got muggle repellents set up and those glasses are what got you by them."
"Right in one, sweetie," said Mr. Granger. "It really is too bad that they're collecting them at the exit. We've got tickets to see Sir Elton at the Palladium next month, and these are so Yellow Brick Roadish."
"Oh, Daddy, really," said Hermione. "So you've explained the glasses, now, about the formal wear?"
"You'll see," said her father, with a grin plastered across his face, "you'll see."
+++++++++
Hermione's confusion was compounded once they left the station. Rather than cross the street to the car park, they steered her towards the taxi rank.
"Where's the car, Dad?" Hermione asked.
"Oh, it's at home in the garage," her father replied with a mischievous smile. Just then a black Bentley limousine splashed through the puddled remnants of a rain shower and pulled in front of the queue. The car's boot door popped open as the uniformed driver got out and tipped his hat.
"Good evening, Miss Granger," the man said to Hermione. "Do you have any trunks to stow?"
Hermione looked at both of her parents, her mouth opening and closing wordlessly.
"What?" Mr. Granger asked. "Can't we spoil the greatest wit….greatest student of her generation once in a while?"
Mrs. Granger chimed in. "Erm…we should keep Crookshanks with us, dear… where's your trunk?"
Too surprised to be thinking properly, she reflexively reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the paperback-sized trunk. She caught her breath when she realized what she had done, but, on a whim, handed the box to the driver with a smile. "They want to be cheeky, then so will I," she thought to herself.
The unflappable driver didn't miss a beat. "Very good, Miss Granger," he said, as he took the box from Hermione and placed it in the boot. The evil grin she gave her parents produced some chuckles.
"Touché, Hermione," said her mother, as the driver held open the rear door and the Granger family climbed into the back seat. Crookshanks whined, but Hermione didn't let him out of his box.
As the Bentley pulled out into traffic Hermione decided to give up trying to pry any more information from her parents; words would have had a tough time getting past their Cheshire Cat grins. A small part of Hermione was bothered by how her parents were acting. Owls had been sent to all Hogwarts parents informing them of Dumbledore's death, and they knew she had attended the memorial service just that morning. Yet they hadn't mentioned it at all. But she certainly wasn't going to say anything about it - too easy to give them the benefit of the doubt.
She knew that their antics were due in part to her long absence. Hermione also knew that she wasn't the typical boarding-school student home on break; it felt more like a respite from a tour of duty, and they were no doubt ecstatic just to see her alive.
Despite all of her grief and fear she was happy to be back with her parents, though - just not goofy-happy. But if they wanted to be goofy-happy, she had no problem compartmentalizing her worries for a while. It was something she had learned to do very well whilst standing by Harry's side.
They tried to find things to talk about, but the conversation soon faltered. On other trips from King's Cross the Granger family sedan was filled with stories about Hogwarts and Hermione's world, but their muggle driver put a damper on that type of talk.
Hermione's mother doled out bits and pieces of news about her cousins, the neighbors, and the school-aged children of their coworkers at the clinic. It was the same thing every year - cousin Barry just graduated and was going to uni at Bristol, only one of the Thompson twins passed their driver's examination on first go, her neighbor Lizzie just got her braces removed, and so on.
Her mother always hoped that these updates would strengthen the tenuous string that kept Hermione attached to the muggle world. Hermione had long ago realized, though, that they only produced the opposite effect. Hers was, quite simply, a world turned upside down, and the stories only emphasized that fact. Her "normal" was a world in which ghosts and goblins and Dark Lords ran about; it was the world of computers, and dental floss, and angst-filled pimply-faced teens that was unreal.
"Well," Hermione confessed to herself as the car continued to move through traffic, "maybe the teenage angst part is the same."
++++++++++++
In a different part of London the occupants of another car were anything but goofy-happy.
The Dursleys had spent two hours waiting in a hotel meeting room for Dudley's hero. At first they were elated - they'd been taken to a ballroom at the Savoy, and it had all seemed so posh, so West End - Petunia had already exposed two rolls of film for bragging material with the neighbors. The elation had turned to frustration as the hours dragged on, however, with the men who'd brought them there constantly apologizing for the delays. They hadn't even been fed.
And then came word that the meeting place had been changed, and that they needed to be driven to a different location. Vernon's face had turned crimson, and his neck bulged out against his shirt collar, but Dudley's pleas to do whatever was needed for him to collect his autograph put a cap on his father's temper.
It took about a half-hour for Vernon to realize that the car they had been riding in had been driving in circles.
"Alright," he bellowed, with face turned puce, "I've had enough of this. Take us back home."
"But father," Dudley lamented.
"But father nothing," Vernon replied. "It's clear to me that someone has played a nasty joke on us…Oy! Did you hear me up there, bring us back home."
The man in the car's passenger seat turned around to face Vernon. "I'm afraid that's not possible, sir. Just sit back, and you'll be at your meeting in a few minutes."
"Meeting with whom?" Vernon shouted. "I said, take us home…or are you holding us against our will?"
"Sorry, sir," the man replied, "it will all be made clear at your meeting."
"Meeting with whom, I ask you again!" Vernon cried out. He stopped for a moment to wrap himself around a thought that turned his puce-colored face a bit pale. "You….you aren't one of those kind of people are you?"
The man looked at him questioningly. "What kind of those people are you talking about?"
"You know," Vernon replied, "one of those… people…like Dumbledore…. you know, wizards."
"Wizards?" the man said incredulously. "You're asking me if I'm a wizard?"
"Yeah, that's right."
The man broke out into a laugh and turned towards the driver. "Hey Gerry, did you here that? This bloke thinks we're bleeding wizards!"
He turned back to face Vernon with a sneer. "That's right, sir, you found us out, …caught us with our wizard's robes down, you did. My name is Merlin and my friend over there is Tinkerbell."
"Clap if you believe in fairies," the driver said with a laugh.
Vernon turned red again. "I demand you return us to our home!"
"Alright, tubby, I've had enough of you," the man said. "Sit back, and shut yer trap." He reached into his coat and withdrew a handgun. "Or I might have to use my wand."
Vernon quickly sat back in his seat.
"That's better," the man said as he holstered his firearm. "Oy!" the man said as he nodded towards a suddenly nauseous Dudley. "Don't go making a mess, we just got the upholstery redone."
Dudley whimpered, but managed to keep his stomach from rejecting his lunch.
The Dursleys didn't say a word for the rest of their trip. They were too scared to see much either, else they might have noticed the black Beefeaters hats worn by red-uniformed guards, as the car pulled off the road and through the gates of a military barracks.