LeoLupin's challenge: Hermione is the daughter of two famous wealthy Archeologist. Hermione travels with them as they move from ancient tomb to tomb only ever returning to England every once and a while, thus never receiving a Hogwarts letter.
So years later while exploring a newly found temple in Egypt, (this temple was a Egyptian Wizard King's tomb) and runs into none other then Harry Potter, (Who has become this sort of Wizarding Indiana Jones Adventurer/Tomb Raider/Curse Braker/Archeologist).
So Harry is searching for a obscure relic with untold power that Voldemort also wants. Harry, Hermione, and Harry's faithful side-kick Ron team up to find the Relic. At first Harry and Ron don't tell Hermione about magic, but she figures it out after their attacked by Deatheaters.
The innards of the tombs have to be booby trapped as all good tombs are.
Bonus points if Harry wares a Fedora and carries a bull-whip/Hermione having Lora Croft like acrobatic skills.
I do not own Harry Potter, or anything of the sort blah blah blah you get the idea.
Chapter 1
Hermione Granger, eighteen, was wary for traps as she navigated the ancient tomb. Diggers in Egypt had recently uncovered the lost tomb of Prince Neferkaptah, believed to be the resting place of the infamous Book of Thoth. The Egyptian government had contacted her parents, Jonathan and Alexandra Granger, to enter the tomb and recover the artefact. The Granger's had been recognized as the world authority on archaeology for many years now, though some of their detractors called them little more than grave robbers. Their daughter had been raised moving from one tomb to the next, and never had a real home though she claimed British citizenship.
When they had arrived at the tomb, they had found that it split into three channels. Jonathan took one, Alexandra took another, and they decided that Hermione was capable enough to take the third on her own. And so, here she was. The average-height woman had her long brown hair pulled back to keep it out of her equally brown eyes. She wore a dark polo shirt, tight-fitting (but not to the point of suggestive) brown pants, black boots and a black vest that hung open. She clambered warily from the large tunnel she had been crawling through, into a small antechamber with another three possible paths. Weary, Hermione stopped for a drink.
While she rehydrated herself, she couldn't help but reflect on her life. She had been born in England, but since that time she had only been back to her native soil three times. Though abnormally intelligent, her education had mostly occurred in the backs of trucks and airplanes. Her parents had all but forced her into a life of treasure hunting. Not that she resented them for it, she loved the life and the trade, but sometimes she had to wonder what life would have been like if she hadn't been moving around the globe for most of the past two decades. Her wishful thinking was interrupted by a loud crashing sound from deep in one of the tunnels before her. Curiously she peeked her head in, only to whip it out of the way as a human figure streaked past. It had been moving so fast Hermione hadn't managed to get more than a glimpse of it, but she saw it was carrying a shotgun and had red hair under its hat.
A rhythmic crunching, and then another figure. This one was undoubtedly a man, but again Hermione could catch little of him. As he passed her, he heard him shout out a single word. "RUN!" Her interest piqued, Hermione glanced back into the darkness for a fraction of a moment, and then she too began to run. The sight she had seen terrified her beyond all belief: an enormous stone sphere, rolling down the passageway of its own accord. She quickly caught up with the second man, the first being too far ahead. She could see that this one was about her age, though he looked much older. His emerald green eyes had a haunted look about them, and his face was much more heavily lined than it had any right to be. Round glasses and several days' worth of unshaved beard completed the package. He was wearing what could most readily be described as dirt. His shirt had the impression that it was once starched and white, but had become encrusted with grime and wrinkles. He had a leather jacket on, which was also heavily worn and beginning to fray at the seams. The only other thing Hermione was able to notice was the brown fedora perched precariously on the man's messy black hair.
"I hope you don't mind me asking, but why the hell are you here?" she asked the interloper, understandably angry. It was little short of a miracle that her voice was so even, considering that she was running flat out.
Her new friend was not so fortunate. "I would…be delight…ed to…tell you…when we are…'nt in…danger of being crushed!" he shouted back at her, voice broken by heavy pants.
Up ahead, the other man called out an instruction. "Hard right!" Hermione vaguely remembered that that was the tunnel her mother had taken. But she had little more time to think, as they made a sharp turn down the middle of the three original passageways. Unfortunately the tomb seemed to have been designed in such a way, and the ball continued to follow them. In the distant gloom Hermione could just barely make out the glow of the other man's red hair vanish.
"RON!" the man running beside her bellowed, then sped up and cut in front of her. Had he not be a very fast runner she would have been highly irritated with him. "Woah!" Hermione heard him cry out in surprise, and then she discovered why. The wide path turned into an immensely thin beam, which was slicked with an unknown substance. Hermione tried her best to stop, but the force of her momentum carried her forward. The only good thing that came of the change in events was that the ball fell into the chasm beneath their feet, taking some of the pathway with it. Fortunately it operated like a cantilever, and no one was launched off. A foot or so ahead of her she heard thinly veiled profanity, followed by an instruction to "Jump!" she did so, and was glad she did when a thin ledge passed under her feet.
For a minute or two the duo sped along with relative ease, which afforded Hermione a chance to finish her examination of the man in front of her. A leather bag was slung over one shoulder, hanging at his hip next to a coiled bullwhip. On his other hip the butt of a revolver was visible from a buttoned holster. The overall effect was rather striking. Dimly she heard him gasp in shock, and his hand strayed to the catch holding the whip to his belt. "Grab my shoulders, and hold on." He called back to her over his shoulder. Not figuring she had anything to lose by doing so, she complied. A crack, a flick of his wrist, and they were sailing through the air. Hermione looked up to see the end of the whip coiled around an outcropping. She looked down to see a bottomless pool of black.
They were only airborne for a moment, but it felt like an age. After a fleeting eternity they burst through a hole in the wall of the tomb, which just so happened to lead to the bottom of a sand dune. The red headed man was already present, splayed out on the sand. The dark-haired one followed suit, and they both promptly ignored Hermione.
"Well, did you get it Harry?" the redhead, whose name was apparently Ron, asked his partner. Harry opened his bag, and removed a tightly wrapped scroll. He clutched it like it was his anchor to the mortal plane as he looked at it. Hermione reached to take it, but it vanished from her view.
"Sorry, can't let you have that." Harry told her. Though his tone was condescending, his voice was pleasant enough. "We got here first, so it's ours."
Hermione was less than pleased. "I am Hermione Granger, my family is under contract by the Egyptian government to retrieve that scroll." She spat angrily at the insolent man, and made a grab towards his bag.
Harry rolled out of her reach. "Did you say Granger?" he asked, sharing a look with Ron. "As in Jonathan and Alexandra Granger?" Hermione nodded, Harry seemed impressed. "Maybe I underestimated you. Harry Potter, freelance treasure hunter." He extended his hand, which she gave a cursory shake. "And my partner, Ron Weasley." The redhead extended his own hand. He had ice blue eyes, and his fiery red hair was mostly covered by a Tilley hat. He wore tan coveralls and black jump boots. A Winchester 1897 model shotgun lay on the sand next to him. His own chin was equally hairy as his friend's. Hermione took the proffered hand even more briefly.
"Charmed." She was nothing of the sort. The two men were odorous, filthy, and generally gave no care to personal hygiene. "Are you aware that I could easily obtain a court order demanding that you give me that scroll?" she inquired in a sickly sweet voice that never led to anything good.
Harry and Ron shared another look, and Harry sighed. "Frankly, me dear, I don't give a damn." he shot back. Hermione had no response for that, which Harry seemed to have been expecting. He rose to his feet and coiled up his whip. "A pleasure to meet you Ms Granger." Maybe she had misjudged him; he could certainly be polite when the situation called for it. Ron followed him as he trudged up the dune, and when he spun around and dropped. "Shit. Death Eaters." She could hear him curse. He looked down towards her, and motioned for her to join them. She climbed tentatively. "Take a look, but don't make a noise unless you really don't want to live anymore." He didn't say it as a threat, he simply said it.
She peeked over, and was hard-pressed not to scream and leap out from behind cover. Her parents were kneeling in the sand, surrounded by a circle of black-robed figures. They were all pointing wooden sticks of varying lengths and materials at their captives. Hermione could see several bloody wounds on her parents' faces and bodies. She had to strain to make out the leader, but she could.
"Where is it? Where is the Book of Thoth?" the leader asked angrily. It was a male, even though Hermione could see long blond hair peeking from the man's hood. She couldn't hear her parents' replies, but it obviously wasn't what the man wanted to hear. "Lies!" he swept his stick at her father, who screamed in pain. The robed man turned his back towards the captives for a moment, seemingly contemplating. Then he turned back, brandishing the stick again. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" he screeched. A green light, and her parents were dead. This time only Harry's entire strength on her body kept her from running out and attacking the men who had murdered her parents. She only vaguely heard the leader giving the order for the bodies to be burnt, and barely smelt the stench of burning flesh as she wept into the sand, and then into Harry's chest when he finally released her.
"Sssshh, it's going to be okay." He soothed, rubbing the back of her head instinctively in the awkward embrace they found themselves in. They held each other gingerly until Hermione finally composed herself.
She pulled back and turned away, hiding her read tear-streaked face. "I'm an orphan." Her voice was no longer sad; it was dead. It was the voice of someone whose life has lost all meaning. "And I have no where to go."
Harry was shocked by that. "You don't have a home?" he asked incredulously.
Hermione shook her head violently, the sadness creeping back in. "We never stayed in one place very long." The tears were coming back, and she found herself with a red silk handkerchief held out to her. She took it gratefully, and didn't see the momentary glance that passed between two old friends.
"Well I don't know about the first one, but I think we can fix the second." Harry told her, his voice tinged with warmth. Ron let out a low string of obscenities. Hermione turned to look at Harry. She saw nothing but honesty in his emerald eyes, and for the first time in a long time she felt safe. She nodded slowly, still too far gone for words. Harry cracked a smile. It made him look almost a decade younger. "Excellent. I hope you like England Ms Granger."
***
Harry Potter watched with dry amusement as his new friend and roommate, Hermione Granger, buried her nose into a thick book that had come from the duffel bag containing all her worldly belongings, and a few mementos of her parents. Ron was currently up front, flying the small cargo plane, which left him free to examine their passenger without fear of Ron going on and on about it. She was quite pretty, in a business-like sort of way. If she let her hair down, he noted, she would look even better. He shook himself before he could analyze any further; he did not need that sort of awkwardness. "You should get some sleep." He told her, noting the nice colour of her eyes when they flicked upwards to meet his. "We're a long way from home." She turned back to her book, seemingly ignoring him. Considering it safe enough anyway, Harry got up and slowly walked to the door separating the cockpit from the cabin. A minute flick of his wrist shot a stick of holly, slightly less than a foot long, into his wand. An imperceptible wave and the door latch gave. Another flick of the wrist and it was gone. Harry entered the cockpit and closed the door behind him.
Ron was sitting in the pilot's seat, but he wasn't flying the plane. His legs were propped up on the dashboard and he was perusing a newspaper called the Daily Prophet. The only things unusual about this scenario: (1) The pictures on the front page of the newspaper were moving, and (2) the plane was flying itself. The redhead looked up to regard his friend. "So, how is she?" he asked, a rare note of concern in his voice.
Harry shrugged. "As well as can be expected, really." His hand reached up to absently trace the jagged scar above his eyebrow, which had been mostly covered by his hair until now. "She's hiding her emotions behind a wall, which isn't good. Hopefully we'll be able to open her up." Harry's experience with hiding emotions was all too personal. He had done exactly the same thing when his godfather died, two years ago, and again when his mentor had followed, a year later. He was only now repairing the damage from the first emotional blow.
Ron's eyebrows flitted up. He knew exactly what his oldest friend was talking about. "What about the…other thing we noticed?" he subconsciously lowered his voice, as though afraid that their passenger could hear them. She couldn't, of course, but these two had learned the hard way the cost of not practicing constant vigilance.
Harry didn't answer for a while. He was debating the ethics of answering the question. Ultimately he decided that the decision was not his to make. "She has the talent. It's untrained, but she's managed to keep it under control somehow. But I don't want to train her before we give her an option."
Ron was flabbergasted. He never had understood people all that well. "What do you mean, give her the option? Who wouldn't want unlimited power? It's an offer she couldn't possibly refuse." Harry gave him a tense glance.
"Careful Ron, that's the kind of thing that keeps us from becoming like Tom." He sighed, and Ron nodded in acquiescence. "But, who wouldn't want to be able to use this gift? Someone who was scared of the unexpected, who has settled comfortably into a life and doesn't want to leave it."
"You think Granger is one of these people?" Ron seemed truly flummoxed that such a person would be in their trade. Then again, Ron was flummoxed about an exorbitantly large number of things.
Harry had to think, which was appropriate since all his evidence was based on defending a person he had known for less than two hours. "I think she tries not to be, she tries to be brave, but in her heart she is." The conversation was closed, and Harry left Ron to his 'piloting.' On the other side of the door he saw that Hermione had fallen asleep reading. Her book was lying open on what Harry suddenly noticed was an ample bosom. He picked it up tenderly, careful not to lose her page, and marked it with a bookmark he found next to her. She fidgeted slightly, but stayed asleep. Slowly, doing his utmost not to make a sound, Harry removed his jacket and draped it over her sleeping form. The added weight caused her brow to furrow, but she just rolled onto her side and drew up the makeshift covering.
Harry lay down on a stack of crates across the cabin and adjusted his fedora so it blocked the lights. Home was a long way from Cairo, and Harry needed his rest for the challenges to come.