Story Title: Time, Interrupted
Chapter Title: Repercussions
Author: Madm_05
Rating: Strong PG-13/T
Chapter Word Count: 5,119
Date: 11 July 2006
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and everyone else from Potterverse belong to JKR.
Chapter One: Repercussions
Hermione pulled a pillow over her head, trying to block out Horace's continuous barking. Horace's barking?! Hermione shot out of bed, tumbling over the blankets and landing hard on the floor. She looked around the room, exhilarated and terrified at the same time. Part of her wanted desperately to believe her dream wasn't just a dream, that it was too real to be a fantasy, but the logical part of her mind said that such flights of fancy were impossible.
Uncle Jack suddenly burst through the door, looking frantically around, relief flooding his face when he saw Hermione was unharmed. "Hey, kiddo, you gave me quite a scare. What are you doing on the floor?"
"I--" Uncle Jack was alive! Had he ever really died, or was that a dream, too? "I had a nightmare. I died." It wasn't a complete lie--her dream definitely had some aspects of a nightmare, and she had been dead.
Uncle Jack lifted her into his arms and carried her downstairs to the kitchen, where Harmony was sitting in her highchair, waiting to be fed. "Don't worry, it was just a dream. Here, blueberry pancakes--they can fix anything, if you have enough syrup to go with them," he said, covering her two pancakes with more syrup than was needed. "You're parents have left for work today, and since I'm staying for the week, you won't have a sitter. I do have an errand to run, if you think you can handle watching the house for an hour."
Hermione quirked an eyebrow. "You're not afraid I'll burn the house down or smother my sister with a pillow?"
Uncle Jack laughed merrily. "Hermione, we both know that you're a responsible girl, you're more responsible that me, really, and I know how much you love your sister," he said, reaching over to give Harmony a spoonful of baby food. Harmony had other ideas, however, and grabbed the food and threw it at him. "Though I am in awe of your ability to do so as consistently as you do," he said, some sort of orange sauce dripping down his face.
Hermione giggled. "You can do what you need to. I have some reading I'd like to do, but Horace will let me know if something happens, won't you, Horace?" She said, scratching the energetic puppy behind his ears.
"Great. I'll buy you something sweet to snack on--as a thank you. You won't tell your parents, right?" He asked, grinning.
"It will be our little secret," she laughed.
Breakfast continued with much laughter, and a great deal of orange baby food on the floor, highchair, and Uncle Jack. Harmony finally began to eat when a smug Hermione decided to feed her some banana-flavored baby food.
A short while later, as Uncle Jack was pulling out of the drive, Hermione put Harmony in her playpen and dashed upstairs and down to the end of the hallway. She jumped up and grabbed the string hanging from above. With a firm yank, she pulled open the door and pulled the stairs down. Hesitating for a moment, Hermione began to climb steadily up the ladder.
Making her way towards the window, Hermione covered her mouth to keep out the dust. She pushed several boxes out of her way before she knelt before the large oval window. Hermione paused. Would she really find Great Aunt Josephine's treasure box? Her dream was so strange--almost too strange to be reality. She scoffed. It was ridiculous, really, she couldn't possibly be a witch. But this would set her mind at rest. She would look for a loose floorboard and not find it, and she would go back to living her life, ignoring her very long, very detailed, very disturbing dream.
She was taken by surprise when she found a board that was loose. Swallowing and slowly lifting the board, Hermione peeked at what lay beneath. In the hole sat a dust-covered box. Without thinking, she grabbed the box, replaced the floorboard, and scrambled out of the attic and down the stairs. Setting the box safely on the ground, she began to push the stairs back up. Finding herself too short, she rushed to the kitchen and grabbed a broom to push the door the rest of the way closed.
Her task finished, Hermione carried the box back to her room--being sure to leave the door open in case Harmony needed her--and wiped the dust from the surface. Slowly, she lifted the lid and peered inside. Just as she was told, the box held nothing of value--there was what looked to be a quartz stone, a few marbles, and a newspaper clipping about her Great Aunt winning a contest for her school. What caught Hermione's eyes was a small Celtic Cross necklace.
Slipping the cord over her neck, Hermione quickly checked on Harmony before going back to her room and grabbing her empty, and until that moment useless, journal. Now that she knew that it was real, that it wasn't just a vivid dream, there was much she had to do. She glanced at the clock. Horace was hit by a car just a little after eleven in the morning. It was a quarter until eleven now, so as long as he was inside, he would be safe.
Hermione smiled. If Horace lived, then everything would work out wonderfully. Uncle Jack had been killed when a few burglars had broken in and found him sleeping on the sofa with the television on during his annual visit. He hadn't survived, but now Horace would be alive. Horace would be able to alert her family when the house was broken into, and no one would die.
Turning back to her journal, Hermione opened the leather cover. She flipped to the back of the second page and began to list things to consider changing, and the pros and cons of each possible choice. There was little she could do while she was in the muggle world other than plan. She couldn't even apparate anywhere, for fear of being seen. Hermione continued to write her list, periodically checking on Harmony until Uncle Jack came back at half passed eleven. Hermione smiled as she scratched Horace behind his ears and continued on with her lists.
After finishing her lists, she flipped to the last page of her journal and turned the book upside down, and proceeded to the second page. Once there, she began to write down every detail she could remember of Harry having used wandless magic--both what he told her from his time before Hogwarts and, she shuddered, what she had seen when she had been dead. She desperately wished she could do magic, but without a wand and without the knowledge to do wandless magic, there was really no way to prevent anyone from getting into her journal. She had to resort to trickery.
The next few days progressed in much the same manner as Hermione carefully planned possible ways to rescue Sirius, save Professor Dumbledore, and destroy the Horcruxes. Occasionally she would wonder what Harry was doing at that moment, but she would always draw herself back to her task. She had to plan carefully--there were far too many risks involved.
While her days were spent planning and her nights were haunted by Dark Harry, her evening were spent covertly enjoying time with her parents. You never know what you have until it's gone, she thought, remembering the old phrase. It could not have been more true. She couldn't be obvious--she couldn't leap randomly into their arms and squeal "You're alive!" No, that would lead to questions, or it could make them pay closer attention to her actions. And so, with much difficulty, the young witch restrained herself, though if her parents noticed that she was much more affectionate than she had ever been in her life, they said nothing.
On the sixth night, the night the thieves were to break into her house, she sat comfortably in her father's lap, sipping the hot cocoa she had wheedled out of her mother, and listening to Uncle Jack read her favorite non-magical novel--The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux. Not that she would ever admit to anyone that her favorite book was a romance novel of sorts. Privately Hermione doubted anyone would believe she would read anything that wasn't academic anyways.
She was nervous about what was to come that night, but there was little she could do, really--she certainly couldn't tell her family that they were going to be robbed that night without arising suspicion. She had to trust that Horace would alert her family so that they could properly defend themselves, and that was all that could be done, with her limited resources.
Eight O'clock came all too soon, and she was sent to bed. That, she decided was the worst thing she had encountered during her mission--bedtime. It was worse that she was mentally eighteen years old and was used to staying up until all hours of the morning reading. The fact that tonight her entire family was going to be in danger from two thieves who had killed Uncle Jack in her first life wasn't helping matters.
Anxious and unable to sleep, she began to focus on the idea of wandless magic. Obviously is surfaced when a magical child was in distress or emotions were running high. The first thought was of little help, as she didn't intend to put herself in mortal danger any time soon, but the second was worth considering. Which emotions caused wandless magic? Were emotions the only trigger she could utilize? She recalled the Dark Harry had been in total control of his emotions…but had he really been?
The more she thought about it, the less sure she was on the matter. Harry had been in control, there was no denying that, but his emotions were…not. He had been easily angered, but could go from a cold blooded murderer to the sweet Harry she had known in first year. How she wished she could have seen his eyes! If she could only have looked into his emerald eyes, she would have known what he was and wasn't feeling when he used wandless magic.
With a frustrated sigh, she pulled her robe tighter around her, tucked her journal safely in her pocket, and began to pace. Emotions, they were the key, but what was it about them that allowed a magical person to use magic without a way to concentrate their energy? Emotions were often used in magic, but it was more to influence how powerful the spell was. The cast a powerful cheering charm, the caster had to think of something that cheered them up, thus adding their cheerfulness to the spell. There were even parallels with the Dark Arts. For many dark spells, the caster must be angry, vengeful, or hateful, and they must want to cause pain and suffering. For the Dark Arts, it was negative emotions mixed with malicious desire or intent that powered them. But where was the link?
Emotions also influenced how a transfiguration spell turned out. She recalled in the beginning of second year how she remembered feeling a little queasy at making buttons turn into beetles, and her buttons had turned into the ugliest bugs she had ever seen in her life. When she had tried again but had been in a better mood, the beetles weren't nearly as gross, and were actually kind of cute looking. Not that she would ever admit that she thought a bug of any kind was cute. Again, where was the link?
Emotions, she concluded, influenced the type, power, and result of a spell cast, be it a dark spell, a charm, or a transfiguration spell. She understood that. But where was the focus? Normally, a wand was used to focus magic, to channel it into a form that could be used. With wandless magic, there was no such conductor. Perhaps the channel was a hand motion? The Dark Harry had used hand motions…but she could recall instances when she had used wandless magic when she was four, and she never moved her hands. No, she had called her books to her--
A sudden bark from Horace snapped her out of her thoughts. She heard Horace begin to growl and bark his warning before her parents began to stir. Suddenly Harmony began to cry, angry at being woken. Hermione dashed out of her room and met her parents in the hall. The six year old automatically went into her sister's room to quiet her while her mother and father nodded in approval and rushed downstairs.
"Hush, Harmony," Hermione whispered soothingly as she held her sister. "Don't cry, sissy Mione will take care of you." A crash mixed with the sound of Horace's barking down below, and Hermione thought she heard someone swear. The commotion was unbearable, but Hermione stayed away. She hated feeling useless, but she refused to risk her sister's life, and Harmony's cries could draw unwanted attention.
Time seemed to slow, and each sound became more prominent. Something glass shattered. Something wooden snapped. Someone cried out in pain. Something, or someone, hit the wall. A dog yelped. Every sound was so clear. A woman screamed in fear and horror. A gunshot. Then another and another. Then there was silence.
Hermione swallowed thickly. She knew her parents didn't have any guns in the house. The silence soon became unbearable. Should she go downstairs? She couldn't leave Harmony unprotected…what could she do? Still holding and fearing for Harmony, Hermione shifted the baby in her arms and her own body so that if there was danger, Harmony would still be protected. Taking a deep breath, she stepped tentatively down the stairs, dreading what she would see. It was worse than she had imagined. It certainly hadn't sounded like there was as much destruction as she could see.
She briefly considered taking Harmony back upstairs, but she couldn't. She couldn't take the risk that someone may be dying, couldn't take the risk that leaving Harmony behind would leave her unprotected. Drawing in a deep breath and holding Harmony tight against her, and covering her sister's eyes, she stepped forward.
Uncle Jack had been thrown against the wall, head first. She only knew the bloody body on the floor was her uncle because he was the only one in her family brave enough to wear stripes and polka dots to bed. Choking back a sob she continued to survey the damage. A strange man was laying facedown on the floor, one of her mother's kitchen knives in his back. Her stomach churned, but she pressed on. She had seen worse when she was helping Harry destroy Horcruxes.
Turning the corner, she let out a small cry, seeing her mother staring lifelessly at her. There was a small trail of blood from her nose, and her neck was turned at an odd angle--it was probably broken. Tears streaming down her face, Hermione forced herself to keep looking, to keep hoping that her father was still alive.
The second burglar was slumped against the far wall. It looked like her father had hit him in the head with something, and his left arm was broken, the gun he had fired still in his unmoving hand. Her breath caught when she saw her father laying a few feet away. There was a bullet hole in his shoulder, and two more in his chest. There was no chance of survival.
It's my fault. The thought knocked her to her knees. The ache in her heart and the weight of guilt on her shoulders blocked out everything else. She never felt the physical pain of the shattered glass she had landed on digging into her legs and shredding her robe. Harmony squirmed, trying to push Hermione's hand away from her eyes, but Hermione held her close.
Feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end she looked up, right into the angry eyes of her father's murderer and the barrel of his gun. "Another one for me to kill," he snarled maliciously. The weak words of a man about to bleed to death.
Silently, determinedly, Hermione turned so her body was protecting the whimpering Harmony. With a wicked grin, he squeezed the trigger just as Horace launched himself at the gunman's wrist, throwing off his aim and making the bullet destroy a mirror. The man weakly raised the gun to hit Horace when Hermione came to her senses.
She felt rage rise in her at the injustice of it all. This was the second time in as many chances that her family had been murdered. She had been unable to mourn her parents the first time they had died, and likely wouldn't be able to mourn them as they should be this time either. She wanted the thief-turned-murderer to hurt as much as she did.
"Don't touch my dog," her voice was hoarse, and she almost didn't recognize it as her own. Angry at fate and at herself, Hermione unleashed her fury, using her raw magical power to knock the gun from his hand. Everything made of glass shattered as a strange wind picked up, spinning around the room and picking up bits of glass and shards of wood as it whirled.
Hermione couldn't breathe. It was as if she were being smothered by her guilt and pain, as if she were drowning in her anger. Was this how the Dark Harry felt? She was dimly aware that her body, despite the glass imbedded in her legs, was completely relaxed. Despite her grief, she filed the sensation safely in the back of her mind for later study. For now, she watched the dying man's head loll to one side, sapped of strength. Feeling something wet on her knee, Hermione looked down to see Horace staring up at her.
"It's okay, boy. You did just what I wanted you too--you warned my family. It's my fault I didn't do more." She said. Looking up, Hermione saw the man was dead, having lost too much blood. The whirlwind spun faster and faster in her anger. Unable to bear the pain anymore, she cried out, her screams joined by Harmony's crying, Horace's howling, and the distant wailing of sirens.
It was all her fault. She had only just begun and she had already failed in her mission to save her family and Harry. With her entire family dead, she had nowhere to go, and couldn't be sure she would ever be able to return to the wizarding world. She had failed her parents, failed Harmony, she had failed the entire world. Worse, she had failed Harry, the very person she was sent to save. She wanted to quit.
The third rule is that you must continue on with your appointed task, regardless of what happens. If a decision you make has an unhappy consequence, you are not permitted to simply give up.
She would not give up. She couldn't. Hermione Granger was nothing if not determined, and she would find a way to complete her appointed task, no matter the cost. If there was one thing her parents had taught her, it was do follow through with a promise, and always keep her word. She would honor her parents ideals, and complete the mission she had accepted. She had failed once, but she would not let everyone else down. Harry, Harmony, Horace, Sirius, Remus, the headmaster--she wouldn't disappoint them.
Hermione sniffled and began to brush the glass away from the small area unaffected by the whirlwind she had created. Shards of shattered glass sliced her fingers but she cleared a small space and lay Harmony gently on the smooth wooden floor. With a sigh of resignation, Hermione lay beside her sister, not bothering to clear the shards away from her chosen place of rest and resting her arm of the crying bundle. Horace wriggled his way closer and rested his head on Hermione's arm, whimpering in fear, his eyes shifting between the sisters, the dead man, and the wind that still spun steadily around them.
Hermione closed her eyes, exhausted. She wouldn't give up, but she needed her rest--the magical and emotional drain coupled with the blood loss from the glass was wearing on her. The distant sirens were closer now. There would be help soon, and in the mean time she could rest, if only for a short while.
Rest was elusive, however, as images of her family haunted her. Horrific memories of her parents after the Death Eater attack overlapping with the gruesome scene around her, mocking her, reminding her of her failure. Giving up, Hermione chose to look at her sister, who had quieted at last.
As Hermione stared at the comforting sight of her unharmed baby sister and Horace, a series of no less than half a dozen pops were barely heard over the howling of the wind. In an unexpected turn of events, the Ministry of Magic had arrived.
"Merlin's beard! You'd think it was Death Eaters that done this!" A gruff voice yelled over the raging wind.
"Must be a muggleborn doing it," someone else said, pointing to the whirlwind.
Hermione sat up, pulling Harmony in her arms, looking for familiar faces. She was surprised to see a young Kingsley Shacklebolt looking wearily around the room. To her dismay, no one else was familiar. It was Kingsley that noticed her first as her magic reached the end of it's limits and the wind died down.
"It's her! She's the one doing the magic!" Kingsley called out. As one, the group turned and looked at her. "Shouldn't we get her out of here? The muggles will be here soon, and we can't leave her--her magic may act up again."
"Trainee Shacklebolt is right. We need to get her out of here at least until she's stable." Someone said.
"Merlin, look at her! She's all scratched up! What happened to the kid?" A young woman said.
"That's irrelevant. Trainee Shacklebolt, Trainee Tonks, you two take the kid the Weasley residence. They volunteered to take in kids in situations like the this, and Molly knows some mediwizardry so she can take care of the girl." The leader said.
"What about the baby and the dog?" Tonks asked. Hermione couldn't help but think she looked strange without pink hair.
"Take them. No reason to deprive the kid of the rest of her family," the leader said. "The rest of you, clean this mess up! We don't need to the muggles to see this, and they're nearly here."
Hermione could hear the sirens getting louder--they had to be close by, now. Tonks tried to take Harmony out of her arms, but Hermione refused to loosen her grip. Giving up, Tonks picked them both up, cutting herself on a piece of the windowpane in the process. Horace began to growl until Kingsley picked him up as well. "I'll need to be still for a while," Tonks said. "I'm going to take you some place safe." Hermione only nodded, numbly realizing that she would be going to the wizarding world.
Still in Tonks' arms, Hermione felt the strange sensation of side-along apparation and found herself outside the Burrow. With another pop, Kingsley was beside them, Horace squirming in his arms. Shifting Horace to one arm, he pounded on the door. Shuffling was heard, then a disheveled Mrs. Weasley opened the door.
"What's wrong? Has something--Oh my!" She had caught sight of Hermione. "What has happened?" She gasped.
"An attack--not Death Eaters. Looks like a muggle fight, but her powers activated when…" Kingsley trailed off. "Ministry Records state that you and your husband have offered to foster muggleborn children in situations like this. Are you willing to take in this girl?" He asked formally.
Molly nodded, reaching out for her without hesitation. "Of course Arthur and I will watch her. We'll do anything to help children." Tonks seemed reluctant to let her go, but relinquished her to Mrs. Weasley's grasp. "Oh my!" Mrs. Weasley had discovered Harmony.
"As best we can figure, it's her sister," Tonks said as Horace growled. "And her dog. We didn't want to split them up, all things considered."
Mr. Weasley appeared and took in the scene. "Why don't you all come in?" He asked.
Kingsley stepped forward. "I'm afraid I can't, Mr. Weasley. I have to report back to the Ministry. Trainee Tonks will stay here and question the young lady." Hermione would have been offended for the callous way she was being treated if she wasn't so tired.
As Mrs. Weasley toted Hermione and Harmony into the kitchen, Hermione spied seven Weasley children peering over the crooked banister overhead and whispering to each other. Hermione shuddered when she saw Ron and Ginny, the memory of the dark future she was to change haunting her. "Poor dear," Mrs. Weasley soothed. "It's been difficult for you, hasn't it? I'll fix you up and make you some hot chocolate, alright? Then this nice lady is going to ask you some questions."
"Do we get hot chocolate too?" A young Ron called. Mr. Weasley glanced at his wife then made his way up the stairs to deal with the children.
Mrs. Weasley set her down on the rickety kitchen table and bustled off to fetch some healing solutions and begin making the hot chocolate. Tonks, meanwhile, leaned against the table near Hermione, still holding Horace in her arms. She began to fiddle with her wand--Hermione recognized she had cast a recording charm.
"Hey there. I know this has been a really bad night, but I need you to answer a few questions for me, okay?" Tonks asked. Hermione nodded quietly, shifting Harmony as her arm started to go numb. "Can you tell me your name?"
"Hermione Jane Granger," she said dutifully. She had been questioned by aurors before when she had found her parents tortured to death by Death Eaters, so she knew to answer questions fully. The trick was to make her answers seem like she was a six year old kid.
"Okay, Hermione, can you tell me who you are holding?" Tonks asked as Mrs. Weasley returned, potions and creams in hand.
"This is my sister Harmony. She's a baby," she added needlessly, cringing inwardly. She winced visibly as Mrs. Weasley began to pull out shards of glass.
She looked up as Mr. Weasley came back down stairs and took her sister in his arms. Hermione watched him carefully. She knew he was a good father, of course, but she still wasn't quite ready to be separated just yet. Tonks nodded and asked, "can you tell me what happened tonight? I know it's hard, but I need to know."
I should tell the truth, she thought, just not all of it. "I was in my room and Horace--that's my puppy--started barking." Hermione swallowed her pain and pushed on. "My parents went downstairs and I went to Harmony because she was crying. I heard a bunch of noise and went downstairs. I took Harmony with me because I didn't want to leave her by herself. I was afraid someone would find her if she was alone." She hissed when Mrs. Weasley began to rub the healing cream over the cuts.
"When I got downstairs, my parents, my Uncle Jack, and two men I don't know were dead. I was sad and I started crying, but one of the men wasn't really dead, and he was going to kill me too until Horace bit him, and everything started spinning, and then you came," had she not been trying to hard to sound like a six year old, and had the situation not been so grim, she would have laughed. Mrs. Weasley started to work on her hands, tears brimming in her eyes.
A sudden movement caught her eye. Wormtail had scurried into the room. Hermione stiffened but didn't move from the table. It would look strange if she suddenly took off and picked up a rat for no reason. And so Hermione waited patiently as Wormtail sniffed his way closer, looking for something to eat.
In a moment of madness, Hermione tried out a theory she had been working on earlier concerning wandless magic. In her mind, she imagined everything Pettigrew had done to Harry and felt anger stir in her chest. She wanted him to pay dearly for what he had done. "RAT!" She shouted, pointing at Wormtail. She felt a surge of magic go through her body and straight at Peter Pettigrew, who was now human and sitting fearfully on the floor.
There was a brief moment of silence before there was a flurry of commotion. Tonks swore, shot a spell at Pettigrew, and activated some device. Seconds later half a dozen aurors apparated into the Burrow, all with their wands drawn.
"That's Pettigrew, that is! I saw his picture in the paper after he fought with Black! I thought him dead!" One of them shouted. Aurors surrounded the Weasley's in a flurry, all questioning them. "Hold up!" The man who identified Pettigrew shouted. "Trainee Tonks, report."
Tonks told him everything, from the emergency call to go to her house to how Hermione had revealed Peter Pettigrew. "Right then. Mr. And Mrs. Weasley, judging from the looks on your faces, I'd say you had no idea you were housing a man thought dead. You're both upstanding citizens, and I have no doubt you have no part in this. However, protocol demands you be questioned further, and you will be called to witness for the trial and questioning of Mr. Pettigrew. Because of this turn of events, you will not be able to care for the muggleborn, Hermione Granger. Trainee Tonks, take the girls and their dog to the Ministry for now."
"Yes sir," Tonks said, walking back towards the kitchen table. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, for taking care of Hermione's cuts." She grinned crookedly. "I'm not much of a healer."
Mrs. Weasley nodded with forced smile and tears in her eyes. "She looks like such a sweet thing, and to have been through all that, now she has to be bounced around even more. Do see to it that the little dears are taken care of."
Tonks nodded and took Harmony out of Mr. Weasley's arms and handed her to Hermione. Tucking Horace under one arm and lifting Hermione and her sister with the other, Tonks apparated away. Before they vanished, Hermione caught a glimpse of Wormtail as he was lifted up by two aurors. There was one thought that seemed as if it would always haunt her.
What have I done?
---------
A/N: Not a very cheerful chapter, and rather dull at the beginning, but there were things that I needed to happen. Yes, I killed Hermione's parents and her uncle. But I did leave her Harmony and Horace! If I give my characters something, you can be sure they will pay for it in some way later. Keep that in mind for what happens in the next chapter. There will be a lot of dark things going on in the first several chapter of the story, but I will mix in bits of fluff every once in a while.
In regards to Tonks, technically she should be in her…second year, I believe, but I needed her to be an adult so I changed her age and made her five years older. Normally I try to write as canon as possible, but I really needed Tonks for certain upcoming events.
On a lighter note, I would like to thank everyone who read the last chapter, and give special thanks to those who reviewed. That said, please review and tell me what you think.
Cheers,
Madm_05