Shadow Walks
My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
--Green Day, "Boulevard of Broken Dreams"
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Chapter Fifteen:
What if all these fantasies come flailing around?
--R.E.M., "Losing My Religion"
Harry caught between his teeth a ragged breath that no one would ever hear. It had been so long, so long since he had seen her as anything other than an eighteen-year-old girl in a photograph or in Ron's memory that he was mesmerized by the sight of her. She was standing in the doorway, just behind Harry's elbow, one hand on the jamb, framed by light.
He moved closer without even really realizing that he was doing so, almost floating across the yard like a man entranced, his eyes fixed on her face.
"… like the Mediterranean agreed with you both," Lily observed softly. Hermione looked radiant, as she smiled. Harry was stricken by how grown up she looked, her hair and skin sun-kissed, her expression, which hadn't modified to anything less than joyful, since the door had opened.
"It was lovely, absolutely lovely," she murmured, looking not at Harry's parents, but at the man himself. So casually that they didn't even seem to be aware of it, the couple had twined their fingers together. Harry turned his head to gaze at the profile of the woman whose hand was in his, and nodded in agreement, a half-smile turning up one corner of his mouth.
"Somehow, I don't think either of them is talking about the scenery," James said, ostensibly sotto voce, to Lily.
"James, what did I tell you?" Lily asked, under her breath as she nudged her husband in the side.
Harry raked them over with a fond, almost humoring, glance, and turned from the front door, his hand still ensnared with Hermione's.
"C'mon in," he said. "Dobby has drinks waiting. I think Hermione negotiated him down to just the one task."
"Dobby?" Lily asked in amazement.
"Harry hired him," Hermione put in. "Though I'm not sure what he'll do around here, since this place is so small."
"You know you could always - " Harry's mother put in hopefully.
"Mum, the Manor is lovely, but - but this was the first home I ever knew. We love it here. And Hermione's worked so hard fixing it all up - "
"And don't you forget it either!" Hermione said playfully, nudging him in the side. Harry appeared to be on the verge of some kind of rejoinder, but it was cut off, as a voice called from outside,
"Oy, Potter!"
Their observer, Harry, had come through the front wall of the cottage, and he turned around with a start at the sound of the familiar voice, though again, it had been some time since he had heard Ron speak with that amount of buoyance.
He watched Harry's face take on a look of sheer delight, as he rushed to the door and opened it.
"What's your problem, Weasley?" he hollered out at the yard, as a gaggle of people made their way into the front gate.
"Your sodding ward popped us in across town, that's what!" Ron returned. "Need I remind you that some of us have had a very exhausting day of Quidditch practice run by a manager who's a bloody sadist! We don't need to hike all the way over here just because you're afraid of your little girly fans!"
People spilled into the room, and Harry recognized the four youngest Weasleys, their ginger hair glowing in the firelight, as well as a handful of people he didn't know.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Harry raised both hands toward Ron in a gesture of surrender, as he laughed. "I'll key you into the wards right away. Although," he smiled possessively, as he wrapped his arms around his wife's waist, "for everyone's well-being, I do suggest that you Floo first."
There was a resounding chorus of groans, the loudest of which seemed to be coming from one girl in particular, whom Harry did not recognize. She was petite, and her hair was a dark, shimmering auburn.
"Oh, look!" Harry said in mock surprise. "Ron's brought the miscreant with him." The girl glowered at him.
"Been reading Hermione's dictionary in the loo again?" she sniped, though her eyes glimmered with fondness.
"I thought you were in France," Harry said. "What are you doing hanging about with this lot?" He was half-laughing as he said it, but she flushed crimson and looked at her shoes, flicking a nervous glance toward Ron, who visibly paled.
Harry caught the look, and his eyes moved rapidly between Ron and the girl, before something like awareness flamed to life there. A bemused grin spread across his face.
"You're not!?" he exclaimed, with a disbelieving grin. The girl mumbled something unintelligible, and Lily and James exchanged glances. "And you knew about this?" he questioned his parents, but turned to Ron without waiting for an answer. "You're dating my sister, Weasley?"
"You dated mine!" said Ron, a trifle defensively.
"Yes, but I'm me, clearly of a different sort," Harry said loftily. His sister swatted him on the back of his head, and Fred and George immediately began singing a catchy little chorus, the words of which Harry could not make out, although it began, "Kate's a trifle violent, but we don't hold that ag'in her…"
"Ronniekins probably likes that about her," Ginny spoke up sweetly, and there was a roar of laughter.
"Oy!" Ron said, turning scarlet to the tips of his ears. "Not in front of her parents!"
"Ron, you've spent far too many summers at the Manor for our opinion of you to change now!" James chuckled. Ron echoed the sound hesitantly, clearly unsure whether the remark was a compliment or not.
"Daddy, be nice," Kate pleaded, leaning up against Ron, who shifted uncomfortably, obviously trying to make the embrace look as platonic as possible.
"Well, he is a sight better than some of the gits you've dated," Harry stated, off-handedly. Ron looked at him sourly.
"Thanks for the hearty endorsement, mate," he dead-panned. The fond look he cast down at Kate Potter, however, needed no outside endorsement of its own.
Harry couldn't take in the sights and sounds fast enough, as the front door admitted another slew of people, among which he noticed both Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Sirius was accompanied by a slender, raven-haired beauty, and both of them greeted an equally dark-haired youth - one of the party accompanying the Weasleys - with enthusiasm. Sirius called him Altair.
He slouched in a corner, in the shadow of a large potted tree, and tried very hard not to be jealous of…himself. His counterpart, whose messy hair tumbled over a scarless forehead, had everything he'd ever wanted. He'd waited as he watched, waited for the one advantage, the one thing he couldn't live without that this universe might lack, to make his own universe more desirable.
He'd found none.
He was still friends with Ron. He had both his parents. He had a sister. Sirius was still alive, married, with a son that seemed to be one of his own comrades. There had evidently been no Voldemort at all. His family was rich, influential, and seemed to be well-liked. His father was a high-ranking Auror. His counterpart moved with a enviably graceful and easy confidence that most likely came from being a much-loved son that probably had spent no time in any cupboard under any sort of stairs.
And he was married to Hermione, and they were newly arrived back in England from their honeymoon, by the look of it.
Amid more laughter and high spirits, he saw his counterpart move to the table for another round of drinks, with Rigel and Ron. Someone yelled,
"Aw, come on, Vega!" And he wondered if Sirius had a daughter as well. He glanced around for Hermione, and saw her slipping, unnoticed, into the kitchen with her mother-in-law. Curious, Harry followed.
Hermione moved gracefully around the kitchen, lifting lids to pots enchanted to stir themselves, and inspected the contents therein. There was a platter of hors d'oeuvres on the worktop, and Hermione Levitated it through the kitchen door with a gentle flick of her wand.
Someone hollered, "Got it!" and Hermione released the spell.
"So how is life being married to my son?" Lily asked gently, as she sipped her drink. Hermione flushed and looked a little dreamy, absently twiddling the strand of pearls around her neck. The light in the small kitchen glinted off the honeyed streaks in her hair, held back with two twisty combs, and added a bronze hue to the sage green dress she wore.
"It's - it's beautiful… and perfect. Better than I could've ever even dreamed," she sighed. "When we were on that yacht… just the two of us…" She must have realized how she sounded, because she laughed self-consciously and blushed. "I must sound like an idiot."
"You sound like someone in love," Lily corrected. "I've never seen Harry so happy. Neither of you have stopped smiling since we arrived."
"Sometimes it - it seems almost unreal. Going from my life before Hogwarts to - to all this." She made an expansive gesture with one hand. "I'd never even had a friend until the day Harry came into the compartment on the Express. I was crying - and he - he had such a gentle heart even at eleven, that he couldn't bear to see someone else in pain. I don't think Ron would've stopped, but Harry made him, and - and - "
"The three of you lived happily ever after?" Lily quirked an eyebrow, as if she knew her own statement was untrue. Hermione grinned, and her radiant happiness shook Harry to his core.
"Now, I know you've been a witness to some of my and Ron's more - more… effusive rows!"
"But when you and Harry fought, you both got the sulks and didn't speak for days. I must admit, I wondered if he'd ever wake up and see what was in front of him. I had a feeling about you the moment I saw you. I knew you were the one for my son."
"Well you were one of the only ones then. I've gotten some of the nastiest hate mail since Harry and I got together. There are some people who take issue with the idea that the scion of such a prominent wizarding family decided to play house with a Muggle-born witch. Although, you'd think that all this blather about bloodlines would have faded out of existence ages ago! There haven't been any elitist movements since - since well…" Hermione trailed off, looking like she'd said something she wished she hadn't.
"Believe me, I know well the hazards of being a Muggle-born who `doesn't know her place'," Lily replied. "And it may not seem like it, but it has improved in the last twenty years. People did realize at the time what a close shave we had, although it may appear that they've forgotten it now." There was a faraway sheen in her eyes. "I'll never forget," she murmured, nearly to herself.
"Well, as long as teachers like you and Dumbledore are still at Hogwarts, new generations will continue to hear the truth," Hermione declared in that resolutely idealistic way that Harry found familiar.
"It's funny…" Lily mused. "In a way, Harry is like a living reminder of everything that happened. I am always acutely aware of how long ago it was, because I know how old Harry is. It seems odd that it's been twenty-three years since Peter and Severus were killed. They sacrificed themselves to stop a madman. If they hadn't…"
Hermione's face had gone nearly gray.
"I don't - I don't like to think about a world without any Harry in it," she murmured. Lily grew suddenly contrite, and shifted, as if shaking off the pall that had grown over the room. The entire conversation had raised goosebumps over Harry, surreally appearing to reference the situation in which he now found himself.
"I'm sorry, love," his mother said, laying an apologetic hand on her daughter-in-law's arm. "That was hardly a topic for a welcome-home party." Hermione tried to smile, but there was still a haunted look in her eyes. It made Harry want to move behind her, and wrap his arms around her. His entire being was humming with the longing to touch her, to speak to her, to look into her eyes and see love reflected back at him.
And then his counterpart did, entering the kitchen, looping his arms around Hermione, and kissing her near her ear.
"Why are you two hiding in - " he stopped, his eyes going from his wife's profile to his mother's face. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Hermione said quickly, and almost convincingly. "Just talking about work."
"Have you been able to convince her to quit working down in that ruddy basement?" Harry asked his mum. A spark of irritation appeared in Hermione's eye.
"It is not a `ruddy basement'. It is a very important Ministry Department! Just because you're up there in the Executive Offices, as First Secretary of Bleeding Whatever doesn't mean that - "
"Pax!" Harry called out, laughing. "I don't mean to demean the Department of Mysteries. I just don't see why you like working down there with a bunch of creepy old wizards and people obviously off their nut."
"Well…" Hermione drew out reluctantly. "I'll admit the coworkers may leave something to be desired, but some of their theories are fascinating! And they need someone down there to ground them with research and actual facts - Derwent tends to go off on the most bizarre goose chases - and I am - "
"Professor McGonagall is talking about retiring after next year," Lily put in quickly. Hermione halted, clearly losing her train of thought in spite of herself.
"Really?" she asked, interested, but then looked hesitant. "But I'm not sure I'm qualified for a position somewhere like Hogwarts." Harry and his mother made simultaneous noises of disbelief.
"Keep pretending you weren't the brightest witch in our year, Hermione!" Harry said, kissing her again. "Besides, you would have the best Charms teacher since Professor Flitwick retired putting in a good word for you!"
Lily swatted him on the back of the head.
"I've been the only Charms teacher since Professor Flitwick retired!"
"It would be perfect, Hermione. You would love it. And the timing is excellent, since we don't have children there to mortify in various ways!" He seemed to glance rather accusingly at his mother as he said this.
"You were already through with school before I started working there, thank you very much!"
"And thank Merlin for that! I've heard enough of Kate's seventh-year stories," Harry pointed out. Lily was studiously ignoring him.
"Does this mean that I shouldn't expect any grandchildren in the near future?" she asked, and it was Harry's turn to roll his eyes.
"Come off it, mum. We've been married for a month!"
"I guess I should warn you then: your father is hoping for a happy announcement by Christmas!" Lily teased, and Hermione's eyes widened in mock horror. She made a show of checking the food again, and, tapping her wand to each pot in succession, quickly Vanished it out to the serving dishes already situated on the dining table.
"Hermione gave Dobby the night off," Harry was saying as they exited the kitchen. "Insisted on doing her first party herself. I think she's traumatized him for life…"
The noise of the party crescendoed and dwindled with the opening and closing of the door. Harry sat in the middle of the kitchen floor alone, feeling more disheartened than he had in quite some time, and that was saying something.
How was it possible for three universes, involving essentially the same people, to turn out so differently? He wondered. Was it really as arbitrary as Draco seemed to indicate - all stemming from a random difference in choice? Where did the choice begin? Peter and Snape had apparently defeated Voldemort. Why? Did it arise from Tom Riddle's decision against making horcruxes perhaps? Or had his own father decided to treat Snape with a little common human decency? Had they been friends? Was his own ascension as Dark Lord the result of being Sorted into Slytherin? Had he not argued with the Hat enough? Or was it the absence of Hermione? Or both of these combined?
He was the sum of his experiences and natural tendencies, he supposed. And that would make these… other Harrys merely doppelgangers who looked like him. But they weren't really him. For instance, this Harry had not had to consciously choose Light, but Light had been all around him, his whole life. This Harry had not fought a troll first year, had not been both bested by and victorious over the Triwizard Tournament. This Harry had not lost his family, had not lost Sirius, had not lost Dumbledore.
It was not him at all.
The other Harry did seem to embody the pinnacle of Harry's potential. He was everything Harry could have been, should have been, would have been - he hoped - if things had been different. It was like being able to see a wide array of one's own possible successes and being bludgeoned about the head with all the ways one had fallen short.
This Hermione was different too. She was still kind-hearted, idealistic, and ferociously defensive. But she - the aura of confidence that surrounded his counterpart hovered over her as well. Her blood status would always cause her insecurity, it seemed, but she was well-dressed and sophisticated, having obviously - while not necessarily taking it for granted - grown accustomed to being on the arm of privilege. Clearly, education was as important to her as it had always been, but he really couldn't imagine her working as an Unspeakable, struggling to find factual bases for wild ideas and cockamamie theories.
He was prepared to sit in the kitchen and brood for awhile - who cared how long? Time had almost no meaning for him while he was out of phase. He was at the mercy of the crystal, at the mercy of the random pull from his home universe, and he didn't know when it would activate again.
This really could take years, he thought glumly, recalling his words to Luna.
It hit him like a lightning bolt, at his remembrance of his Ravenclaw flatmate. He sat up straight, almost horrified that he hadn't caught on to it right away, when his own counterpart had first mentioned it.
Hermione was an Unspeakable. If there were anyone in this universe who could help him refine his blind ramble through the multiverse, it was Hermione.
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It took him quite some time to convince Sir Nicholas to accompany him back to Godric's Hollow.
"That's why it's called haunting a place, Mr. Potter - or whoever you are… you don't just pack up and leave whenever the fancy takes you!" He had said indignantly. Harry had fleetingly worried that he would somehow send Nick to another plane, inadvertently, by making him leave Hogwarts.
"How do we do this?" Harry asked hesitantly. "Do we hold hands or - I mean, you can't Apparate, can you?" Nicholas sighed the sigh of the much put-upon.
"If I am occupying the same space you are, then I should be transported with you," he said.
"Occupying the same - what are you - " Harry never finished his sentence, as Sir Nicholas had moved until he was floating, superimposed over Harry, who was more than grateful that he was out of phase and unable to feel the undoubtedly icy cold sensation that would have accompanied such a position. Nearly Headless Nick held himself loftily, as regally as a queen awaiting the first movements of her litter.
Harry rolled his eyes, and thought of Godric's Hollow again.
As they materialized, he could hear the clatter of dishes through the cracked kitchen window on the right side of the house. Harry moved through the wall into the room, as Dobby padded in with a towering stack of plates and cutlery that rose to twice his own height. He could hear Hermione's protests as she approached the kitchen.
"Dobby, I made the mess. You should let me clean it up."
"Dobby is most grateful for a night off. Dobby should repay kind masters for their generosity." The house-elf sounded more perturbed about the night off than Hermione's remonstrations, as he Levitated the impossibly high stack into the sink and set them to wash. Suds mounded up in the sink, and a scrubber began to work by itself.
"We're not your masters, Dobby. Let me do the dishes. It was my party." Harry scooted out of the way, as she strode past him, even though it wasn't necessary. He could hear the frustration in her voice.
"Mistress Potter must be tired from her entertaining. What kind of house-elf would Dobby be to let his mistress work, especially when they are kind enough to pay Dobby. It is Dobby's delight and duty to serve the Potters." The elf rolled his Ping-Pong ball eyes toward her in a way that would have seemed fatuous, if Harry hadn't known him so well.
"Dobby - " Words trembled on her lips. She doesn't want to give him an order, Harry thought suddenly.
"Get out of here, Dobby," Harry said suddenly, appearing in the kitchen doorway. His voice was peremptory, but not rude, spoken in a way that any house-elf would immediately appreciate, even such a relatively enlightened thinker as Dobby. "Hermione and I will finish up in here."
Dobby looked conflicted, but finally managed a strained,
"As Mr. Harry wishes," before popping out of sight.
"You're feeding his obsession, you know," Hermione said, moving to the sink without looking at Harry. She began removing dishes from the pile of suds, and Levitating them through rinse water to stack on the worktop. Harry moved beside her, using his wand to dry them and replace them in the cabinets.
"Oh, he'll have blissful dreams all night long because I bossed him around. Why can't you be nicer to him, Hermione?" He grinned at her, and a smile tugged on the corners of Hermione's mouth against her will.
"I know full well that you had ulterior motives, and they had nothing to do with being `nice' to Dobby," she smirked. Harry dropped his mouth open, and placed one hand theatrically across his chest.
"I'm offended," he said.
"I call them like I see them, `Mr. Harry'," Hermione retorted, but her eyes were glinting with something else altogether.
"Well," Harry said slowly, turning toward her, and backing her up to the corner of the worktop. "If I'm going to be summarily accused, I might as well be guilty." He was very close to her now, his legs bracketing hers, and he leaned down to whisper something in her ear. She dropped her wand, and the plate that had been under the stream of water crashed into the basin of the sink and shattered.
Harry looked around wildly for Sir Nick, cocking his head in the couple's direction with meaningful eyes, forgetting in his desperation that he could talk - they would not be able to hear him. The ghost had not fully entered the house, and was almost hovering at the window, looking even more insubstantial than usual in the weak moonlight. At Harry's gesticulations, he floated more completely into the small kitchen, and cleared his throat awkwardly.
Hermione and her husband started at the noise, and blinked up at Sir Nicholas. One of her hands fluttered up to her hair self-consciously.
"Sir Nicholas?" Harry asked, obviously squelching the irritation that had flitted briefly into his face. "Is something wrong? Did Dumbledore send you?"
"Ask to speak to Hermione alone."
"Nothing's wrong, Harry," Sir Nick said hesitantly. "I'd like to have a word with your wife, if I may?"
"Sure, Sir Nicholas…" Harry was speaking slowly, he and Hermione clearly exchanging rather bemused looks, as he ambled out of the kitchen. She watched him go, and then turned back to the ghost, the confusion on her face replaced by the sharp, curious look that Harry knew so well. It was the look of Hermione-on-the-hunt, with a puzzle to solve.
"What's going on, Sir Nicholas?" she asked. Nick opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated, looking sidewise at Harry, and appeared to Hermione to be staring at nothing at all.
"I - I had a visitor this evening…" he said uncertainly.
"Ask her if she knows anything about multiverse theory," Harry said. His voice was low and intense, his brilliant eyes fixed on her face.
Hermione's eyes widened at Sir Nick's question, and then moved warily around the room, as if wondering whether or not a ghost could be put under Imperius.
"I'm afraid that's classified, Sir Nick," she responded.
"Tell her - tell her you've got someone with you who's - who's from another universe and who is out of phase. And he needs help. He's looking for someone. Don't tell her who I am." The Gryffindor ghost dutifully repeated the words. Something like excitement danced across Hermione's face.
"Really? It must be someone I know since they came to me. Who is it?"
Sir Nicholas looked at Harry, who shook his head decisively.
"He doesn't want to say," the ghost explained.
"We only just found out that persons who are out of phase can communicate with the spirit world," Hermione said. "It's amazing to be able to see the phenomenon in action." Harry's eyes lingered wistfully on her face; it was animated, lively, lit from within. Hermione-in-the-pursuit-of-knowledge. He missed her so much that it hurt.
Harry began to hurriedly explain to Nick about the crystal, its deactivation, and his subsequent search through multiple universes. Was there any way to refine the search, to more accurately pinpoint his Hermione's location?
Sir Nicholas relayed the question. Hermione grew thoughtful.
"We had a rogue Unspeakable not too long ago," she said. "He was using the crystals to travel to other universes, ones where he was in phase, and could steal from the Gringotts vaults of his family. He could get in because his blood matched, and the goblins weren't prepared to ward against someone from another universe. Bill Weasley and I finally designed a safeguard against that kind of theft. We - we used a kind amplifier that could track a signature that didn't belong in our universe. Everything gives out a signature, you know - even inanimate objects."
"Could you program something - maybe a crystal - to search for a specific signature?" Harry was no longer speaking to Sir Nicholas, his eyes fixed on Hermione. She paced the small confines of the kitchen, chin bracketed in one hand, thinking furiously.
"I don't see why you couldn't - if you had something from that universe that you could use as a sample. You could use a Detection spell calibrated to that signature, and embed it in a crystal. It's not ever been tried before, but the theory is sound." She stopped pacing abruptly, and looked so suddenly to Sir Nicholas's left that Harry's heart stopped. "Who are you?"
"A - a friend," Harry said hoarsely. "Would it need to be a certain kind of crystal?"
Sir Nicholas relayed the question, and Hermione began to respond, when it suddenly sounded as if someone had turned the volume down on her voice. The transfer had always seemed to occur swiftly, but Harry felt as if he were viewing it in slow motion. The details of the kitchen began to fade, blurred away by the very movement of the universe. Hermione's image seemed to crackle, like a bad film projection. Nearly Headless Nick was staring at him with a kind of astonished confusion.
"Harry?" he blurted questioningly. Harry saw Hermione's head snap up, her eyes blazing with a tawny light.
"Harry?" Her voice was sharp, panicky, worried.
"Tell her I'm all right!" Harry shouted, but did not know if Sir Nicholas had heard him or not. Hermione had been giving him answers, a solution, a way to find her more quickly and efficiently, and now there was no more time. He cursed the horrific timing of the inactive crystal.
The multiverse either did not hear him, or did not care.
AN: Well, I had some trouble with this chapter. Now I know why I don't write fluff. This was fun to do, but when I got to the end, I felt like the chapter itself really had no point at all. So I reworked the ending, actually having Harry "speak" to Hermione, and I liked that much better.
I hope everyone enjoyed it. I am not sure this was my best. But I am really, really excited about the next chapter (it may take 2)!!
You may leave a review on your way out, if you like.
lorien
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