A/N: Hope you like it. ^_^
Standard disclaimers apply.
Chapter Eleven: Face of a Stranger
Saturday dawned bright and clear.
Perhaps that should have been the first sign that things didn't feel as normal as it should be, because London wasn't exactly known for such days.
Hermione stumbled out of bed, grumbling about how her weekend was already shot to hell. She quickly got herself ready for the rest of the day before she padded to Angelica's room and woke up her daughter. Today, Angelica would be serving detention at school.
Angelica whined and moaned as she rolled out of bed, saying she didn't want to go to school. That she needed more sleep. That her eyes hurt.
At first, Hermione was about to lecture Angelica on how this was all her fault, that if she hadn't been so naughty in school, she wouldn't have had to give up her weekend lie-in, but a closer look at Angelica gave Hermione cause for true concern.
The skin around Angelica's eyes seemed unusually dark. Like she hadn't gotten much sleep.
"Halt, imp," said Hermione in a gently playful tone. "Let me have a look at you."
Angelica padded sleepily to her mother.
Hermione checked her for a temperature and felt her hands and feet. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with her. "How long did you stay up after I put you to bed?"
Angelica rubbed at her eyes, yawning. "Didn't. Slept. Had dreams, though."
Hermione remembered Angelica mentioning a recurring dream to Julien.
She tried to shut out the roiling anxieties such talk brought. Harry dreamed true once upon a time, but it didn't necessarily mean Angelica could do the same. Besides, Voldemort was gone. There would be no dreaming true for Angelica.
"Nightmares?" Hermione asked.
"Thought it was, but it wasn't. I woke up and I couldn't stop thinking about it."
Hermione stifled a sigh. "And that kept you up most of the night. Next time that happens, you can always come to me. I'll help get you back to sleep, alright?"
Angelica nodded.
"Do you want to tell me about the dream? Just so it won't plague you tonight."
"It's alright, mum. Won't bother me again. Promise." Angelica headed to her bathroom, as if she had decided that the discussion was over.
Hermione wasn't going to push for now, but she would be keeping an eye on Angelica's sleeping habits.
She helped Angelica get ready and fixed them both a quick breakfast.
They had to take the car to drop Angelica off at school, just because it was likely Ms. Blake, the maths teacher, would be waiting for them at the school steps.
True enough, Hermione had the opportunity to meet Ms. Blake and was relieved to discover that she seemed like a very kind woman, and that Angelica seemed glad to have her for company. Hermione left the school grounds feeling secure that Angelica would be alright in spite of the generally undesirable circumstances.
Hermione spent the rest of her morning running errands while she was out.
The entire time, Hermione felt oddly un-alone. She had walked the streets of both Wizarding and non-Wizarding London, and often, she felt that someone-or something?-was watching her. Following even. It was unnerving, and she stayed within well-populated areas. It wouldn't be the first time some crazy stalked her. She had had a few minor incidents through the years-one major one, which led to arrests, and a big snit in the papers, so being stalked right now wasn't a far-fetched concept.
Still, she didn't want to be crying wolf at every opportunity she got. She'd rather try to shake off the feeling, else she would develop an unsavory habit of being paranoid.
She felt more secure when she got home, but when she left the house to pick Angelica up again, the feeling of being watched returned.
She drove into Angelica's school, and the first thing Angelica said when she hopped into the car was, "I'm never going to be naughty again! I am so tired, mum! I had to scrub ten blackboards! It was such hard work! I bet it would've been easier with magic."
Hermione shot Angelica a warning glance over her shoulder.
"I didn't use magic, mum," Angelica said, rolling her eyes.
"Of course you didn't. You'd need a wand to do it properly and you're not allowed to have one until you're eleven."
"Right! Ms. Blake was really nice, though. I always liked her. She let me help check test papers. You wouldn't believe the mistakes they made. Pramilla and Millhouse got stellar scores, though. Owls for them both." Angelica grinned.
"Good for them! Now… are you up for having lunch out? Just before you spend the rest of the day at home."
Angelica sighed at the reminder that she would not be going to the Beauxbaton fair with Aunt Fleur and Julien, but she did smile, the prospect of eating out brightening her gradually darkening day.
"Ooh! Can we lunch at Lundum's?"
It was a bit pricey, but Hermione loved that restaurant as well, and it was always a nice place to spend time with Angelica.
"Lundum's it is."
Hermione drove them to the heart of London, and while Lundum's was packed, it was always easier to get a table for two in the family-oriented restaurant. At any rate, if they ever had problems getting a table anywhere, Angelica was superb at turning on the charm. Her pretty baby face, combined with her hidden genius, had unwitting adults gushing to give in to her every whim.
As they sat on their table and read their menus, Angelica happened to glance up and caught the eye of a passing waiter. She smiled brightly and waved.
"Hullo there, little girl," said the waiter. "Have you and your mum been served yet?"
"No," said Angelica with a cute shake of her head. "But that's alright. Mum and I aren't quite ready to order."
"I'll give you a few minutes then. And maybe later, if it's alright with your mum, I can get you a free dessert. How's that?"
Angelica was supremely delighted and she cast her mother a pleading look.
"We'd love that, thank you," Hermione said.
The waiter smiled and gave Angelica a wink before he left to attend to other guests.
Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I don't know why I let you do that. It's almost criminal."
"Aunt Fleur said we should never feel guilty about the good fortune our skills and looks brings us," said Angelica, her legs swinging as she took the toothpicks from their fancy containers and began to arrange them on the table.
Hermione's eyebrow arched. "She'd say that, wouldn't she? But don't you forget that you must never use your gifts at the expense of another."
"Yes mum… oh, look here, mum! I've got a riddle for you. There are twelve toothpicks. Take away one and you have nine. How is that possible?"
Hermione sighed. "Ah cherie… that's very easy." She took one of the twelve toothpicks and rearranged the remaining eleven to spell the word NINE. "You think too little of your mother."
Angelica giggled. "Of course not! Try this, then. O-T-T-F-F-S-S. What are the next three letters in the sequence?"
Hermione shook her head. "The next letters are E, N, and T."
Angelica frowned. "I was sure I had you."
"I used the same principle with my last password. Try something harder."
"Alright, then! How long is a string?"
Hermione was caught this time. "What kind of a string?"
Angelica smirked. "Just a string. How long is it?"
"Well, I can't-"
"I can," Angelica said, smugly.
"Of course you can! You thought of the riddle!"
"You can, too, if you think hard enough!"
Hermione tried to figure it out. "It's impossible without more facts."
"No it's not."
"It's a trick, then."
"No trick. Just logic, mathematics, and clever wording."
Mathematics…
It clicked in Hermione's mind.
Lord, she's brilliant. If she hadn't given me that last hint…
"Very clever Angelica," said Hermione with a shake of her head.
Angelica grinned. "Well? How long is a string?"
"Twice the distance from the center."
"Absolutely correct, mum! You're so smart!"
Hermione made a face at her daughter and pinched her cheek. "You're too brilliant for your own good, my little impette."
Angelica's eyes sparkled. "Though this be madness, yet there is method in`t-"
Hermione laughed. "'Into my grave?' Hamlet, act two. `So wise so young, they say do never live long.'" She said this with affected gravity.
Angelica giggled, getting the mildly teasing joke. "King Richard III, act three. `Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.'"
I know that all too well…
The thought came so suddenly to Hermione that she didn't realize just how deeply it affected her until she spoke her next Shakespearean quote.
With her smile faded ever so slightly, she replied. "Twelfth Knight, act two… `Journeys end in lovers meeting, every wise man's son doth know…"
Why didn't my journey end like that, then?
"Twelfth Knight, act two," chimed Angelica with a roll of her eyes. "`Oh, how this spring of love resembleth the uncertain glory of an April day…' mum?"
"The Two Gentlemen of Verona…" Hermione looked up and over her shoulder, the feeling of being watched overcoming her sudden melancholy.
Her eyes scanned the crowd of diners and restaurant staff. There didn't seem to be anything usual. No one seemed to be acting shiftily or suspiciously.
"Mum? Are you alright?"
Hermione didn't want to make a fuss about her over-active imagination. "We should really decide on what to order, already. My brain's shutting down and it needs nourishment."
Angelica eyed her for a bit then seemed to decide she would do as her mother told her.
Hermione tried to concentrate on her menu, no longer in the mood to play games.
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They arrived home at mid-afternoon and Hermione spent the rest of the day trying to occupy her daughter with productive pursuits. Admittedly, it wasn't very difficult to keep a six-year-old genius occupied. Sit Angelica in front of a piano and she would probably play lovely music all day, and if Hermione didn't mind cleaning up after her, Angelica could be given paint materials, a workspace, and inspiration and she'd paint a masterpiece, but Hermione wanted to spend time with Angelica, so she brought out a Scrabble game board. Sprawled out on the carpeted floor of Hermione's office at home, they played their game, laughing at the ridiculous made-up words, issuing challenges, and meting punishment when one was caught inventing a word. It was what made the game fun, after all.
They spent hours, and before they knew it, it was dark out, and Hermione said she had to fix their supper.
"I want to help," Angelica said, arching her back in an attempt to touch her toes to her back. She was not successful.
"Of course you can help, sweetheart. Let's put this away and then we can go to the kitchen."
They put away the Scrabble pieces quickly and they headed to the kitchen.
Hermione was instructing Angel on which ingredients to get ready when the doorbell rang.
"I'll get it," said Hermione. "You go break up the greens and clean it."
Angelica bustled to push her stepper near the sink.
Hermione went to the door and peeped out. She was astonished to see Draco Malfoy. He wasn't smiling-which was no surprise, but she could see that he had something tucked beneath his arm. It looked like a manuscript.
"Unbelievable," she muttered. Undoing the locks, she swung the door open, her gaze unwelcoming. "What do you want?" She froze, her eyes falling beyond him to the power lines where at least half-a-dozen crows were perched.
Draco didn't seem concerned about what she was looking at. "I want to talk to you. It's about my book."
Though immensely distracted, she turned her attention back to him. "What about it? You walked out of my office and took it away."
"I want you to be my book editor. I won't accept no for an answer."
Her irritation mounted. "Oh, won't you? Well, watch me make you." She began to close the door.
He jammed his foot against the door. "Oh, no you don't!"
She stared at him, shocked. "What are you-back off, Malfoy! Or I'll make you sorry, I swear." She pulled the door back and quickly slammed it back to close.
His foot was still there, and the door was still jammed. Draco gave a cry of pain. "Ouch! You-" he grunted and fought against the door. "You are an absolute shrew!"
"That the best you can do?" she growled, slamming the door again. This time, he began to push with his shoulder.
"Just-would you just listen for a moment?" Draco implored. "I was going to a… a… a…"
Hermione frowned. "Sneeze, maybe? Get it over with, then!"
"Apologize!" Draco said through grit teeth.
"Oh! I see. That what your agent told you to do?"
"Of course! Did you think I'd do this because I actually liked you? Go find something else to get off on!"
Hermione gasped and her anger intensified. "I'm not the one trying to get into your home, Malfoy, so you can go fuck yourself-"
"Oh, mum! That was such a bad word!" Angelica cried from behind her.
Hermione whirled and pressed her back to the door, pushing against Draco. "He's a terrible, terrible man and he brings out the worse in me, sweety. Now, go back into the kitchen."
Angelica looked horribly displeased, but she did as she was told.
Hermione turned back to her unwelcome guest.
Draco whipped out his wand. "I'll use it, I swear!"
The crows began to squawk, agitated, and they all took off all at once, flitting across the moon like bats.
Furious, Hermione didn't even warn him when she whipped out her own wand and shot a minor curse that sent him stumbling back.
He fell down the porch steps with a cry, landing on his butt as his manuscript scattered all over.
"I can't believe you used it!" Draco yelled, cringing.
Breathing with anger, she flipped her disheveled hair off her face. "Now, go away!"
Draco lumbered to his feet, groaning. "You bitch! I think you broke my pelvis!"
"Oh, well, then you can just walk yourself to St. Mungo's."
Holding his hip, Draco gathered some pages from the top of his manuscript and held it out to her from the ground. "Read it. They're the pages you corrected, and I've revised them. Ought to be better, else you suck as a book editor."
"I'd say you suck as a writer!" she hissed, slamming the door closed.
She had barely taken a few steps when Draco's voice penetrated through the door. "Read it!" The sheets slid beneath her door. "Or I'll blow this door down and… and make you!"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, I'm afraid. I really am!"
"You better be! I'm not fucking around, Granger!"
Angelica emerged from the kitchen again, scowling. "Mum, he's really noisy. Let's just tell Uncle Ron he's bothering us. I'm sure he'd be more than glad to take care of it. He's always protective of us."
Hermione turned her nose up at this. "No. I can get rid of Malfoy myself."
"No, you can't!" cried Draco.
Hermione frowned.
"Uncle Ron will be able to help," Angelica pointed out.
"Darling," said Hermione. "Right now, I won't even ask your Uncle Ron's help to open a jar of mayonnaise. Understand what I'm saying?"
Angelica stamped her foot. "You're being silly! You said you and Uncle Ron would make up! You should, you know!"
"Not today. Maybe tomorrow," said Hermione. "Now, go back to the kitchen. Malfoy, I can have you arrested for harassment!"
Malfoy gave a cry of fear and he slammed himself against her door.
Hermione gave a yelp, and she grew more alarmed as the sound of a scuffle ensued. She felt frozen to her spot at Malfoy's eerie response, and it took another moment before she realized that she had to see what was going on.
Wand at the ready, she swung her door open.
The pages of his manuscript were scattered all over her front porch, just about drifting to the ground like someone had just thrown them into the air.
There was no sign of Draco.
"What… Draco? This isn't funny, you know!"
There was complete silence. She looked at the mess on her front porch and wondered whether she did indeed manage to scare Draco with the threat of arrest. He did, after all, spend a year in Azkaban. Perhaps he thought the experience so horrible that he wouldn't want to risk incarceration again.
Though still highly uncertain of what was going on, she couldn't help but start gathering the fallen manuscript. No matter who the author of it was she couldn't just leave a book at the mercy of the elements.
She put them on a neat, though unorganized pile.
She grabbed a page and felt a wetness on her fingers.
The spot of red on her hand seemed to glow under the light of the moon. She saw the edge of her porch railing, slick with a small splatter of blood.
Her heart rate accelerated, and the hair on the back of her neck rose with a horrible chill.
That odd feeling of being watched returned once more. It was a powerful wave of paranoia and she sat there, forcing herself to think rationally, but she saw that strange flash of white from the corner of her eye and heard the piercing squawk of crows.
That was it. She wasn't imagining things anymore.
She scrambled back into the house with a yelp, slamming the front door and pulling the locks and bolts.
Visions of escaped Death Eaters peppered her fear before she forced herself to take deep, calming breaths.
"There has to be a perfectly good explanation for all this," Hermione muttered. She looked at her fingers.
It's blood. I can smell it…
"Oh, God."
Angelica rushed out of the kitchen looking terribly surprised. "Mum, what are you-"
Hermione took her by the arm as she shut the lights, telling her to be quiet. She rushed both of them to the kitchen and Hermione grabbed a small wooden box from one of the higher shelves before she enveloped them in complete darkness.
With a dim Lumos, Hermione guided them around the house.
She gave the box to Angelica. "Inside this box is a Portkey, so whatever you do, don't you ever let go of this box until I tell you to. Understand?"
Angelica was beginning to look frightened. "Portkey? To where, mum?"
"Just keep it handy for a while. I'm not very sure about what's going on." Hermione tried to sound calm and in control, but it was difficult. She'd felt it all day-being followed, and she could feel the blood crusting on her fingers already. The blood was real, and Draco disappearing very oddly was real.
Had someone attacked him…?
"Mum, you're really scaring me…"
"It's going to be alright, baby. We're safe, alright? Just do as I say." She led them to the cupboard under the stair and she reached inside, pulling out a cloak that Angelica had never seen.
Angelica's eyes bugged out. "Mum, that's a-"
"It's an invisibility cloak. It was your father's. Here. Put this on, but keep the hood off for the meantime. I'd like to be able to see my little girl… there now, you look like a floating head."
Angelica giggled, and Hermione was glad she was able to put Angelica at ease, even for a bit.
Creeping to the Floo, she crouched over it and Flooed Grimmauld Place for Tonks.
Tonks looked immediately worried, probably sensing that something was wrong. "Is everything all right?"
"No. I think I've got a stalker outside my house, Tonks. And I think Draco Malfoy's been attacked. I found blood-"
"H-Hold on, blood? I won't even ask what Draco Malfoy's doing there-"
"He's not here. He's gone. I think someone took him, and he's possibly hurt. I didn't want to be a bother to you and your department, Tonks, but it's different now. I've been feeling followed all day and now-"
"We'll be there in a few minutes," said Tonks. As calm as Tonks seemed, Hermione could see the glint of anxiety in Tonks's eyes. "Stay put. Don't try to do anything-"
"Just get here as soon as you can," Hermione said distractedly, shutting off the Floo.
She led Angelica to the cupboard under the stairs. They would hide there until the Aurors came.
Hermione swung the door open when she saw something move outside the large bay windows.
Pursing her lips to stifle her scream, she shoved Angelica into the closet and pulled the hood of the cloak over her head. She began to close Angelica in.
Angelica gave a cry of protest. "But Aunt Tonks said not to-"
"No. Listen to your mother!" Her tone was so authoritative that Angelica's protests died to a whimper. Hermione used the same tone to tell her to use the Portkey only when necessary.
Without waiting for a response, Hermione shut Angelica in.
There were only two known Death Eaters that haven't yet been caught: Bellatrix and Snape. Whoever it was, she wasn't going to risk Angelica, and she wasn't going to risk letting either get away.
Instincts she thought had gone away with the dangers of war surfaced back up.
Creeping out through the back door, she circled the house, peeking from the corner so she could get a good look at who it was.
The figure was too tall and broad to belong to a woman, though she could be completely mistaken. It looked like a man, standing on her walkway in a hooded black robe. He stood there, staring at her door, as if he hadn't yet quite decided what to do.
The crows were nowhere to be found, but their annoying, disembodied cries caught his attention for a bit before it went back to her front door.
His arm rose and the sleeve of his robe fell away from his hand. He pushed back his hood but she lost her view of his face as he proceeded to walk up her steps. He stood on her porch, once again unmoving.
Creeping along the perimeter gates of her front lawn, she crouched low to get around him. From the edge of her walkway, she could see his back and his hair. His hair was a mess, like someone who didn't know how cut it.
She lifted her wand and she accidentally pushed her gate slightly open. The hinges shrieked and the man's shoulders stiffened.
There was no help for it. She pointed her wand purposefully and spoke. "Turn around nice and slow, and identify yourself."
He didn't move for a moment then slowly, he began to raise his hands. "H-Hermione?"
His voice struck her. She would know that voice anywhere, yet it wasn't in the realm of possibility. In the last seven years, she had thought she heard his voice here and there, only to find someone else, and that it hadn't really resembled his voice at all. Yet, this voice was shockingly real. Shockingly his.
It angered her-that this stranger would be so cruel as to pretend he was Harry Potter.
Her hand shook, but she steadied herself. "I said turn around and identify yourself. Are you a stalker? You wouldn't be the first, you know. I've called the authorities, and they'll be here in a few minutes, so you might as well surrender-"
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, turning his head slightly to look over his shoulder. "I promise…"
It was the tone, and the words-and the sentiment of his words.
"I'm not going to hurt you. I promise…"
Hermione swore that if it wasn't for Angelica's safety, she could have very well burst into tears from sheer fury.
"Turn around!" she shrieked angrily.
Carefully, he turned, and the light fell upon his features.
Even under the dim light of the moon and streetlamps, she could tell that he looked somewhat mangy. The front of his robes were open, and she could see that his clothes looked a bit worn, especially with his jeans torn at the knees. She noticed that he carried a travel pack, and that it was mended within every stitch. Overall, he seemed nondescript. Ordinary, but when her gaze fell upon his face, Hermione felt her heart stop and her jaw drop. Completely shocked, her wand arm slackened and she stared, stupefied by the image and likeness of Harry James Potter.
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It couldn't be him, of course. Harry was dead, and gone. She saw him die, held his body in her arms. And then Ron watched him burn to ashes.
This was not Harry. This was not her Harry.
Polyjuiced.
The moment she thought this, her wand arm snapped back up.
She scowled fiercely, more angered than ever. To her utter dismay, her rage made her eyes water with tears. "How dare you? Whoever you are, coming here Polyjuiced as Harry… it's sick! It's a twisted, sick joke and it's not funny!"
His eyes widened behind all-too-familiar glasses. "Hermione… no. I'm not… Hermione, lower the wand…"
She gripped her wand, her knuckles whitening at the outrageous way this doppelganger was imitating the very vulnerable look in his eyes, or the way he spoke to her with such gentleness. He even looked aged-not at all like the seventeen year old she remembered. He looked perhaps even a bit older. This imposter looked like the years had affected him.
He stepped towards her, his worn trainers soundless and painfully familiar.
"Don't come any closer!" she shouted. Her hand was trembling now, and it hurt to watch this man impersonating Harry so well. "Just don't!"
Her tears spilled, and she was infuriated with herself for showing such emotion in the face of this stranger. "Please don't. Just stop. Just stop! Do you even know what you're doing?" The emotions kept rolling off her tongue, and she had to struggle to keep herself steady on her feet.
His hands lowered, and he looked at her with such warm apology. "Oh, Hermione… don't cry. It's me. It's really-" He began to walk towards her.
She couldn't think. Her emotions were too powerful, and Angelica's face came to the forefront of her mind. Her daughter's safety was paramount. She would do anything for Angelica.
Her face hardened. "I said stop."
He shook his head, openly unheeding, and he left her with no choice.
"Stupefy!"
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She wouldn't touch him, not even with him absolutely unconscious on her front steps. She could only stare at the unmoving body as she shook with a thousand emotions.
It was how the Aurors found her, and him.
Stupefying him had taken more from her than she realized. She had felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, that she could raise her wand to Harry's likeness and image.
But he's an imposter, she told herself over and over.
Ron had arrived with the Aurors, and it was he who shook her gently out of her stupor.
His strong hands were upon her shoulders, squeezing gently. And as if they'd never had that bitter row a few nights ago, she sank into his embrace, still shaking. Just like that, they'd made up. It was always like that when they'd had a fight. They wouldn't speak to one another for days then they'd slip back into their friendship as if nothing happened.
"Angelica's inside the house," she managed to say. "Someone please get her… someone she knows, or else she'll Portkey to Grimmauld-"
"I'll go," said Ron. "You going to be okay?"
Hermione nodded, bidding him go.
The lights in the house came on, and soon enough, Angelica, with Ron behind her, was pressing her face against the glass windows, watching everything with unveiled awe.
"Found Malfoy yet?" Tonks asked.
Hermione shook her head. "I haven't the slightest clue where he is."
"How long between his disappearance and this bloke showing up at your doorstep?"
"Couldn't have been very long. A few minutes."
Tonks nodded. "I'll have my team search the area for Malfoy. He couldn't be far, then. I hope he's still alive… never thought I'd ever say that about a Malfoy." She began to bark orders to her team and several of them began to spread out in different directions.
The front door opened and Ron stepped out, staring at the slouched over body of her intruder, half covered in robes.
"Now, what have we here?" Tonks said, gesturing for more of her team to assist her. "We have to get this pack off. Can someone please take this? Hello! Evidence needs gathering!"
Hermione let the bustling Aurors pass.
Tonks turned over their perpetrator and stepped back with a gasp.
A hush fell on everyone as they stared, open-mouthed at the face of the stalker. Everyone knew what Harry looked like, be it friend, acquaintance, or stranger.
It was Angelica, popping out of the front door, which broke the tension.
"What's happening, mum?" she asked.
It was Ron who spoke first. "Bloody hell!"
"Uncle Ron!" gasped Angelica.
Ron, unlike Hermione, paid her no heed. "He looks exactly like Harry!"
Hermione couldn't help but think that that was the least of it.
"Merlin, no wonder Hermione's so shaken," Tonks said, crouching to straighten the impersonator's slumped form on level ground. Her subordinates helped her, and soon, they were levitating the unconscious man on his back.
Tonks said they were ready to bring the perpetrator to the Ministry, and that the Obliviators would be hard at work most of the night in the neighborhood.
"I'll get word to you if we find Malfoy, alright?" Tonks said.
Ron looked utterly surprised. "Malfoy? What's he got to do with this?"
Tonks waved off his question, knowing Hermione would explain.
Hermione then herded Ron and Angelica back into the house as the Aurors left. She gathered Draco's manuscript again, no longer caring about how neatly she did it. She dumped the manuscript on her table and left it there for the meantime,
"What's this about Malfoy?" Ron demanded as she entered the kitchen.
"He arrived this evening insisting that I read his manuscript," Hermione said tiredly. "I didn't want to, and we had a rather interesting scuffle. He didn't want to go away, but he wasn't really threatening, just annoying."
"Well, why didn't you Floo me? I would've gotten rid of him for you!"
"Mum could've done that by herself if she wanted to," Angelica chimed.
This was why Hermione loved her daughter dearly. She was a very loyal child.
"So now Tonks is looking for him," Ron said. "Why? Did he do anything-"
Hermione tsked impatiently, wondering why she had to explain herself to Ron. She took out some pie and ice-cream from the refrigerator and began to fix Angelica a snack.
"No, he didn't," she began patiently. "He disappeared all of a sudden, and I found his blood all over my front porch. It's why I called Tonks."
"Humph. Good riddance, if you ask me," Ron muttered.
Hermione pursed her lips. "Does it work like a light switch, Ron? You can just turn your intelligence on and off? Because it's like it's there one minute then gone the next!"
Angelica made a face, like she'd rather not be where the adults were fighting. She took her plate of pie and ice cream and ran out of the kitchen to hide out in the living room.
Ron watched her go and sighed. He shook his head and sat on one of the kitchen counter stools. "Take it easy, alright? I just want to make sure you're okay. I couldn't-I couldn't imagine how you feel looking at that stalker and seeing… it must have been horrible."
Hermione tried to settle the emotions Ron's words had set to roiling, but no matter how hard she tried, she kept remembering the look on the stranger's face, the look in his eyes, and the tone of his voice. If she hadn't seen Harry killed with her own eyes, it most definitely could have been him.
But that can't be him… could it?
"It was a nightmare," she said hastily. "How did you know? About this?"
He shrugged. "I was at Grimmauld Place. Visiting Remus…"
"Ah."
"I was really afraid it was Bellatrix, or some unknown Death Eater they forgot to catch back then…"
Hermione nodded, expelling a breath. "I was afraid of that, too. I don't know… I don't know if this isn't worse, though. God, Ron. When I saw that face… I couldn't hex him at first. I just froze and all I kept thinking was that if I hurt him, I would be hurting Harry. He's still…" She groped for a word.
"There?" suggested Ron quietly.
Hermione sighed and looked away. "Fleur's right. I've a death-grip on his memory. It's like I'm afraid I'd stop loving him if I find someone else, and that it'll kill me. He was everything I lived for back then and I couldn't seem to let go of that."
Ron fidgeted uncomfortably on his seat, unable to meet her eyes, as well.
She felt that she had to start making a conscious effort to let go. She had let her misery and longing for Harry hold sway for too long, thinking that it was the only way she could live.
No more.
Fleur was right. It wasn't healthy.
She stalked over to her refrigerator. "Ron, look at this. Look."
He stared for a moment, more perplexed than he ever had been. "At the egg rack?"
"Can you just please come closer?"
Ron dragged himself off his seat and stood beside her.
She held him in place as she began to manipulate the flap on the egg rack. "Watch closely."
It was a crude charm she fashioned out of a standard cloaking spell. A cloaking spell would prevent her from seeing Harry's picture if she didn't end the spell, so she would have to cast the spell over and over again, not to mention the fact that she was likely to get caught every time she undid the spell, so this spell, while not as undetectable as a cloaking spell, did cast a rather effective optical illusion.
One would be able to see the picture if the flap was flipped slowly enough, and if you held it at a certain angle, the picture could be seen plain as day.
Hermione waited until Ron saw it, and when he did, she could see the look of sheer exasperation on his face.
"Oh, Hermione, you didn't!" he cried.
She nodded, embarrassed. "It's been there for seven years. No one but Angelica has noticed. It's one of many I have around the house… and in the car… and in my purse… it's a security blanket of sorts. It's pathetic. It's crazy, but I don't think I could've survived my misery without it. Do you think I've gone mad?"
"Completely."
She rolled her eyes and closed the refrigerator door. "Starting tonight, I'm going to take all of it down and… and… d'you think I should burn them?"
"Well, there's no need for that melodrama. Just store them some place. Keep `em in a box in the attic."
"Will you help me?"
"Absolutely. Come on, then. Let's start with the refrigerator."
Taking a deep breath, Hermione nodded.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It became a game for Angelica-finding the pictures. They were everywhere in the house, and they filled up a hatbox really quickly. The only pictures they left were the ones in Angelica's room and the one Hermione secretly had kept between the mattresses of her bed, which she would put away when she was all by herself. It was her favorite one of him and her in sixth year, taken by Creevey while they were giggling over gossip about Madame Pince and Filch. It was special, and setting it aside would be hardest for her, so it would require some quiet time by herself.
Hermione and Ron trudged up the dusty, but orderly attic, and set the box in one of the more inconspicuous corners.
"Blimey, Hermione, I didn't know you had all this junk," Ron grumbled.
Hermione shrugged. "Most of them were gifts from people I don't know. I still get the sort from time to time, don't you?"
"Yeah, I guess… this a good place for the box?"
She nodded. "That'll do. Listen, Ron… I'm-I'm really sorry when I get on your case about-about Angelica. I know… I know you just care, and that you love her very much."
He began to look uncomfortable again, and his face had gone really, really red. "Yes, well… she's not the only reason why I'm sticking around, if you know what I mean."
She shouldn't really resent him for it. Men have done worse things to get her attention, and at least with Ron, she knew he was sincere about his affection for her daughter.
She wondered if…
No. Don't go there. Harry would want me to be happy, but he'd want me to be with someone I truly thought of as a lover, and not just as a best friend…
Another mental picture of the stranger standing on her front walkway surfaced. She couldn't get over how like Harry the stranger was. It was almost as if she was ready to believe that it really was Harry-that she'd imagined his death, and that somehow, he had returned after seven years of absence.
Who was he? Why would he do this? Why?
Was he really a stalker? It seemed like an awful lot of trouble to get into her life, Polyjuicing himself as and acting exactly like Harry…
Where would he even get the tissue samples to turn into Harry?
It seemed so impossible, yet it was the only logical explanation for now…
That's not true, and you've thought about it on other nights.
Yes, when my brain is on Depression Crack-
You didn't see him burn. You didn't see his body disappear. Perhaps he hadn't really been burning. Perhaps he…
"Goodness, I have to talk to Tonks," Hermione grumbled, pushing herself to her feet.
Ron seemed surprised. "What? Why?"
"I have to talk to her about Ha-the suspect. I'm going to drive myself insane thinking. I just-I'm going to the Ministry."
"Mum!" Angelica shrieked from beneath the attic door. "Auntie Tonks is here!"
"Perfect timing!" Hermione said resolutely-a woman on a mission.
Hastily, she scurried down the attic steps and Tonks met them, looking absolutely confused.
"I think perhaps you two have to come to the Ministry right now," said Tonks. She looked horribly distracted, her hair was rapidly changing color, and she was tripping over floor rugs again. "Go play in the living room, dear," she hastily told Angelica.
Angelica pouted and rolled her eyes, but she did as she was told, sitting on the bay window seat.
Hermione nodded. "Yes, I was just going to Floo you about it."
Tonks shook her head, then nodded, then shook her head. "Alright, you have to calm down."
Ron looked at her uncertainly. "Erm, we are calm, Tonks. You're the one who needs to breathe."
Tonks waved his words away. "It's about that stalker. Okay, first and foremost, he managed to stand up to all those Polyjuice tests. Whatever potion he used, it's not responding to any of the antidotes we have in our cupboards."
Hermione could feel her eyes bugging out as Tonks's words began to register.
Tonks went on. "So we revived him, and first thing he asks for is you, Hermione. He's said very little at first. He just kept saying he wanted to talk to you, but then he began to talk crazy."
"Crazy?" asked Ron.
Tonks nodded. "He began… he began to spout stuff off. At first they were sthings about the Order-you know, during that time. Most of them were Order secrets, but since a lot of those secrets have been revealed, I kept second-guessing myself. Then he began talking about Avalon, and King Arthur's sword, and… and… he said you two would know…"
Hermione had stepped back. She had lost feeling from the neck down. She struggled against passing out.
"I don't know what it all means," Tonks said. "But he did have a sword with him. In his pack. Nutters as all-"
"He what!" Ron cried.
"Really plain, though. I don't think King Arthur would've carried a sword as plain as that…"
Hermione felt herself pale.
"It's all very weird," said Tonks. "He kept babbling, and he said that Zack-no, Zeke. Zeke's turtles, or something. I don't know what the bloody hell he's talking about… erm, Hermione, please tell me this is not making sense to you, because if it is…"
She was cold. Very cold. Yet this strange sweat had broken out of her forehead.
She couldn't move. Not yet. It was all so very strange.
Angelica gave a delighted yell, giggling and pointing at something outside the window. "Oh, mum, look! Come see! The prettiest owl's sitting on our porch railing! Oh, mum, it's so beautiful! It's all white and-"
Hermione didn't wait to hear anymore. She bounded to the door and swung it open.
Sitting just where Angelica said it would be was Hedwig, and tied to her claw was a wand. Harry's wand.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As soon as Fleur arrived with Julien to baby sit Angelica, Hermione, Ron, and Tonks left for the Ministry.
They trailed Tonks at a fast pace.
"I don't even know why we're so freaked out about this," Hermione grumbled as they speed-walked through the halls of the ministry, Tonks's boots clacking noisily as they went. "He could just be a really, really clever imposter."
Just keep telling yourself that, Hermione, and you'll be fine.
Tonks said nothing as they continued to lead the way to the Auror department.
They were led to a room where the perpetrator's backpack and its contents were laid out on a table. Most of the things were quite standard for camping. He had a few Galleons, and pounds as well. The only thing that really stood out was the sword, and Hermione went straight to it.
She picked it up, and instantly, she felt that strange vibration-heard the melodious hum. She dropped the sword, stepping away. She read the runes, and it said, "Live for justice and courage, and you shall be immortal."
"Hermione?" came Ron's voice. "Is it-"
"It's the sword," she said.
"Bloody hell…"
Hermione turned to Tonks. "I want to talk to him. Alone."
Tonks and Ron began to protest at the same time, but Tonks silenced Ron with a glare.
"I didn't say you can talk to him alone," Tonks pointed out. "He can be dangerous. We don't know who this person is. All he keeps saying is that he's Harry, he's Harry-"
Hermione stood to full height and summoned her haughtiest expression. There was no denying the reality of the situation anymore. With everything she had seen, she finally had to face the possibility she had been denying since she found him standing on her porch.
"What if he is?"
Tonks and Ron stared at her.
"You can't be serious!" Tonks cried. "Hermione-"
"I spoke to this person, Tonks. Every word he said, and every look in his eyes-" Hermione paused, clenching her fists as she fought to find the words. "He was perfect. I don't even know if it's in the realm of possibility that someone can successfully imitate anyone so closely that you'd-you'd be shaking to your very bones at the sheer there-ness of the impersonation…"
"But Hermione," Ron said, the disbelief in his gaze palpable. "You can't seriously-all of it could be faked! You know this, don't you?"
"But the sword is real. Only five people knew about it, Ron. You, me, Harry, Snape, and Malfoy. We know Malfoy never got his hands on it. They found him unconscious in a storage room after the battle, remember? They brought him straight to the Ministry!"
Ron kept shaking his head. "Harry's-I saw him burn! I saw-"
"Did you watch every second of it, Ron? Did you see flesh burning from bone?"
Ron looked revolted. "What are you-I couldn't! I couldn't stand there and keep watching! You know that. Nobody could! And it took only a few seconds. The next time anybody looked, it was just ash, and-and nothing. There was nothing left! And we had to take you to St. Mungo's!"
"And I was the one who was Muggle-raised," Hermione hissed at the sheer irony-that she, Muggle-born, would be the only one in the room thinking that magic could make anyone believe anything. "I need to talk to him. I need to see this person and decide for myself-"
"That's not Harry!" yelled Ron.
"Nobody knows that! Look around you! There are pieces of him everywhere! Hedwig! His wand! The sword! Did you see what that bloke was wearing? He even dresses the same way as Harry!"
Ron's eyes widened. "So what are you saying? That his burning was all an illusion?"
"Maybe. I don't know! Which is why I have to speak to this person. I need to figure it out for myself."
Ron looked to Tonks, and Tonks looked quite tired.
"Have you asked him where Malfoy is?" Hermione asked.
Tonks nodded. "He put Malfoy on the Knight Bus. Sent him home unconscious. I've sent a detail to fetch him…"
"Well, that actually does sound a bit like Harry, doesn't it?" Ron remarked sardonically.
"Tonks, please," Hermione said. "It's not like I'd be completely alone. You and Ron will be here. And you've got other Aurors on back-up. You'll have everything said in there on record…"
Sighing, Tonks nodded to one of the Aurors who immediately left the room.
"Alright," said Tonks. "But give me your wand."
Hermione did.
"Follow me."
Tonks led the way, following the path the Auror had taken. They walked through two doors and found themselves in a room with a one-way wall.
In it, the Auror was telling the imposter, "I don't want any funny business when she's in here, understand?"
The stranger stared at the Auror for a moment, and Hermione could have sworn she could detect indignation, like the Auror's suggestion that he would ever hurt her angered him. It sent her heart thumping wildly, and she had to tell herself to calm down.
"I understand," the stranger said, hands balling to fists on the tabletop.
"Hold out your hands," the Auror said.
The stranger did as he was told, and the Auror bound them with shackles.
"And your feet?"
The stranger turned on his seat and his ankles were bound in the same manner.
As the Auror made sure that the shackles were secured, the stranger spoke.
"I can remove them if I wanted to, you know."
Hermione didn't know why, but that sent quite an unpleasant chill through her. That hadn't sounded like the Harry she knew. Oh, there was no doubt that Harry would have said something like that to their enemies, but if this was really Harry, he would not have considered the Auror an enemy, and he would not have spoken such a chilling warning.
For a moment, the Auror seemed uncertain in the stranger's gaze, but the Auror's facial expression hardened and he shook his head.
The Auror stepped out, meeting them as he closed the door behind him. "He's ready. Ms. Granger, if we feel you're being threatened in any way, we're going in there whether you like it or not, so keep the conversation nice and easy. Understand?"
Hermione nodded, taking a deep breath as she readied herself to enter the interrogation room.
Bracing herself, she finally pushed the door open.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They could only stare at one another once she stepped into the room.
She couldn't find the words, and it looked as if neither could he.
It was because of his eyes. So many times she had dreamed of him looking at her just like this, and now that she wasn't dreaming-knew that she was awake and that it was all real, she couldn't bear it. She had to tell herself: You don't know if it's him. It couldn't be him. It's not him!
She closed the door firmly behind him and slowly sat herself down across him on the table. She glanced briefly at the wall, where she should've been seeing Tonks and Ron, but the wall was blank, like it was solid. It was hard to feel that she was being watched over.
But for the presence of the stranger, she felt true isolation.
"I won't hurt you, so you don't have to worry if they can see you," he said quietly.
She didn't quite know what to say, or where to begin. On the one hand, it seemed silly to demand from him who he was, since he was probably just going to say that he was Harry, and yet, she had to ask, and she had to hear it from him.
"Who are you?" she asked.
He took a deep breath, like she had struck him, and she felt so guilty, but she hardened her heart, watching for how he was going to answer.
"It's me," he said, meeting her gaze without the slightest waver. "It's Harry, and you know I'm telling the truth. You would know I'm telling the truth."
Her fingers curled into fists, willing herself not to get lost in the tide of his oh-so-familiar voice, and the warmth in his eyes. "Why are you doing this?"
He didn't seem discouraged by her frosty tone. "I wanted to see you. Talk to you."
"Why did you have to hurt Malfoy? Harry would've never-"
His gaze hardened. "Never? He was harassing you. He took out his wand. I thought he was going to hurt you. And since when were you concerned about what happens to Malfoy?"
She refused to be baited. "You were following me all day, weren't you? I felt it, you know."
He paused a moment and smiled ever so slightly. "It wasn't me. I wasn't following you, but there were… creatures that were. They told me about Malfoy, and so I came, and I got rid of him for you."
She could only stare at him in disbelief. "I got rid of him for you," he had said. Just like that, he had disposed of Malfoy because he thought Malfoy was threatening her.
Ron had said the exact same thing…
Hermione glared at the stranger-at this impostor. "Then why did you have to be so secretive about it? Why did you have to spirit him away and-and act like it was so mysterious and-"
"I have my reasons," he said, somewhat gruffly. "One of which, I didn't want our first meeting in seven years to be you watching me clobber Malfoy."
"Oh, well, our meeting, without Malfoy, turned out much better, didn't it?" she said sardonically.
He actually smirked. "Could've been better, yes."
She refused to get sidetracked by that grin.
"There were crows," she said. "And Hedwig was there, too. What are they, your familiars?"
"Crows…" The stranger shrugged. "Only one of them is mine. I suppose Imogen likes the company of her kind."
He had evaded her real question.
"And Hedwig… she's usually better at hiding herself," he continued. "You saw her?"
She pursed her lips momentarily. "I wasn't sure at first, but she's at my house right now…"
"With my wand. Yeah, I asked her to do that. You know… just in case none of you believed me."
Hermione felt her hands growing cold. "It doesn't prove anything."
He finally turned his gaze away. He looked tired. After a bit, he looked up at her again, the intensity of his gaze taking her breath away. "Ask me something only the two of us would know."
A hot flush rose from her chest, up her neck, and then her face. The countless things only she and Harry would know was not for everyone to hear, and it irked her that she could think such unholy thoughts in such an un-private setting-and in the presence of this stranger, too. But the look his eyes, so deeply green, was so involving. It could make her think of nothing else.
Frantically, she tried to think of something less intimate, something that could be said out loud without scandalizing anyone.
"Stick figures," she began. "You once drew them on my notepad seven years ago. What did they look like?"
His eyebrow arched, and for a moment, she didn't think he would bite, but he smiled, and he began to chuckle softly. "They were of you, me, and Ron. My stick figure had a scar and a snitch. Ron had a broken wand and a dun's-ahem, wizard's hat-"
Hermione felt herself begin to shake.
"And you," he continued with a knowing smirk. "You had a book and spew buttons. Two of them. Evenly round."
His descriptions were perfect, and yet, for some reason, she refused to believe. It was too great, the surrender. Letting herself believe that this was Harry could lead to a world of pain if it turned out it wasn't.
And maybe worse if it was…
"Anything else?" he asked gently when she said nothing for a good while.
She just sat there, telling herself that this wasn't happening. It couldn't possibly be real.
"In Avalon," he began without prompting. "We were sitting by the lake, and we talked about us. You told me why you acted the way you did in sixth year, and I told you how much you meant to me. You remember, don't you?"
Every word. She didn't say it out loud, and she showed no outer reaction, but she kept staring at him, waiting for him to falter, make some kind of mistake. That conversation had meant the world to her. It had healed so many wounds, and it was the reason she named her daughter-their daughter Angelica. If he made the slightest indication that he was faking it, she would possibly spit on his face and leave that room forever.
He went on. "I told you that I thought of you-I thought of you as my guardian angel. I still do. I couldn't have-I couldn't have survived these last few years without remembering you like that. You wouldn't believe what I had to go through to get here, and yet still… you have to believe it's me, because if you don't, then no one will. Nobody knows me better than you do."
"Nobody knows me better than you do."
Hermione shook and she pulled away as he reached for her. She stood so quickly that her chair toppled back on its legs.
He seemed alarmed. "I-I'm sorry."
She realized she was crying, and at first she didn't know why, but in another heartbeat, she realized that if she had to accept that this person was Harry, that Harry hadn't died, and that he had been alive all these years, she'd have to ask the questions "Where have you been?" and "Why did you keep away from us?"
Because that was the reality of it, wasn't it? He hadn't been there when he needed her, and that she had been crying herself to sleep and waking these last seven years for the wrong reasons.
Stop it, Hermione! You can't go down that road yet! You don't know what's going on!
She needed to think. Turning, she stormed out of the room and slammed the door close behind her. She pressed her hands to her face and she felt Ron's arms enfold her. She wasn't in the mood to be comforted.
She pushed him away. "Not now, Ron! Did you hear what he said in there?"
Ron scowled, and he looked like he was ready to argue, but Tonks cut in.
"Were all of those things he said true?" Tonks demanded.
"Yes. Everything," Hermione replied. She began to take deep breaths to try and calm herself. "And nobody else could've known about it. No one!"
Tonks paled. "W-Well, what does that mean? Hermione-"
"I don't know what that means!" Hermione yelled, yet she was lying, because she knew what it meant. She just couldn't say it just yet. "I mean-Lord, Tonks, Harry's dead, isn't he? He's gone and he's-"
Sharp raps on the door interrupted her and an Auror came in holding up a sealed envelope.
"There's a letter for Ms. Granger. It's spelled as important and it's from Gringotts. The owl kicked up a fantastic fuss when we told it to wait until Ms. Granger was done-"
Hermione didn't even wait for him to finish. She had a strong feeling she knew what would be in the Gringotts correspondence. She snatched the envelope, broke the seal and read its contents.
~~
Ms. Hermione Granger,
This letter purports to inform you that your Guardianship of the contents of Vault No. 687, with respect to its owner, Ms. Angelica Grace Granger, heir of Mr. Harry James Potter, has been rescinded. We were recently informed by the Hall of Records that as of half past the nineteenth hour of the 15th of May, Mr. Harry James Potter regained corporeal existence, and therefore all estate transactions resulting from his previously reported death will thus be ratified. In this vein, ownership of the same vault shall, at present, be held in trust for Ms. Angelica Grace Granger by Mr. Harry James Potter. He may then file for a request in person thereof, that ownership be reverted back to him, upon which case Ms. Angelica Grace Granger must submit her confirmation of that ownership with the signature of her legal guardian, or parent, as defined by the Wizarding Family Laws of the Kingdom of Britain.
Please surrender the key of Vault No. 687 to Gringotts within fifteen (15) days of receipt of this letter.
Yours, in service,
Sk.
Mr. Safekeep
Vaults Manager
Gringotts Bank
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TBC
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