Chapter 3
Moving On
Hermione was in good form the following morning everything she saw when she awoke was familiar to her now, which for the first time, as far as she was concerned, gave her a feeling of belonging. She wondered what Harry was going to try today, he had mentioned a spell perhaps that was the way he was going to lead her or maybe something else. Although Harry had told her that instinct was not enough for her, there was one thing that instinct had led her to believe and that was that Harry would be trying his best. She knew deep down that he would not fail her where that feeling came from she didn't know but it was there all the same.
"Morning sleepy head," Harry greeted her as she pushed open the bedroom door. He was already tucking into an enormous breakfast piled high on the table in front of him.
"That bed is too warm and comfy," Hermione explained, "and if I eat half of that," she pointed at the table, "I will probably drop off again."
He smiled at her impersonation of a bloated Hermione. "I think we're the only ones eating in the castle at the moment, the castle elves are just getting a little carried away,"
"You going to try that spell today?" she asked, as she spread some marmalade on some buttered toast.
"Spell?" Harry pretended not to remember, but he was wasting his time if he thought he could deflect Hermione's conversation.
"You mentioned it the other day, come on Harry, I may not be working with all my faculties but my recent memory is really good."
"Ok yes ...well it's a spell that will let me into your mind, but there are a couple of problems with it. First off, I don't know if it is suitable to use and secondly I'm not very good at performing it. Actually I'm rubbish and I'd rather not try."
"Oh," Harry could hear the disappointment in her voice and anxious not to let her become despondent leapt up and crossed over to the desk.
"So," he said, "I think we should try this first," and he picked up a flat stone dish that rested on a small pedestal. "This is a pensive, I can put my memories in it and then we can look at them together, perhaps it will help."
"You can put all your memories in that little thing?"
"Well no ...not all together, just one at a time." He gazed at her as she examined the pensive. The same inquiring mind that she had always had was at work but there were so many little details missing from it, it broke Harry's heart yet again as she looked up and smiled that oh so familiar smile.
"It's going to take us a while for us to look at all of them isn't it?"
"If we go through all the ones I have of you, could be months," said Harry seriously, getting a grip on his emotions again.
Hermione however appeared quite unconcerned at the size of the task they were setting themselves and keeping the same heart wrenching little smile, said, "Could be fun, let's try."
Harry took his wand and touched it to his temple. He knew from watching Dumbledore the principles of extracting memories but he had never done it before. He could feel the tip of his wand tugging on his consciousness and then as he concentrated on his first memory of Hermione he drew the silver strand away from his head. It was a most unusual feeling, like being unravelled, individual frames, flashes of memory, passed by his conscious mind, details that he didn't even know he had stored away lined up to take their place in the silver strand. He shuddered slightly with the feeling, moved the tip of his wand to the pensive and allowed the memory to flow into it. Hermione was watching in wonder, she had no idea how Harry was doing but it looked both amazing and a little bit scary.
"There," he said, a little woozy with the effort, as the last of the memory joined the swirling contents of the pensive. He knew the next bit was relatively easy. "Now all we have to do is read it. Bend down and touch your face to the surface, and hang on to my hand. Hermione did as she was asked and suddenly she was falling but then she realised she wasn't, it just felt like it. Harry's hand was still clasped in hers and to make sure he was there she risked a look in his direction. He in turn was watching her ready to act if Hermione couldn't cope, but although looking a little wild eyed she appeared fine, he squeezed her hand when she turned to him and encouraged her with a smile.
They landed in a compartment on a train where two young boys sat surrounded by a pile of sweets. They were talking over the sleeping form of a fat grey rat. "That's me and that's Ron said the real Harry," pointing in turn at the boys in the memory who completely ignored them. Hermione waved her hand in front of Ron's face.
"They can't see or hear us can they?" she said as Ron continued talking unaffected by Hermione's furiously waving hand.
"No they can't, you have to remember this is just a memory, it's fixed you can't change it and it can't hurt you."
Ron lifted his wand to cast a spell on the dozy rat, when the compartment door slid open. Two children stood in the opening, a round faced boy and a girl wearing school robes. "Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one." Hermione thought the girl sounded rather bossy and it was only as she compared the youngster's bushy brown hair and overlarge front teeth with the face she had seen in the bathroom mirror that morning that she realised she was looking at a younger version of herself. "Oh my!" and she unconsciously put her hand to her mouth to feel her own teeth.
"It's ok," said the real Harry, "they get taken care of later on, you look fine now."
"Thanks," Hermione responded shyly, moving closer to Harry in an unnecessary attempt to get out of her own way, and staying there.
They watched the memory play itself out, Ron's unsuccessful spell and Hermione's breathless riposte finishing with"-I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you."
"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.
"Harry Potter," said Harry.
"Are you really?" The young Hermione had asked, "I know all about you," and it appeared that she did, for she told them.
Then as she and Neville stood to leave, the real Harry suddenly remembered that Ron had made some rather uncomplimentary remarks about Hermione once she was out of earshot, and so he pulled at Hermione's hand to encourage her to leave the memory, but he was too late. As the words "Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," floated out of Ron's mouth.
The study reappeared around them; they were standing together in front of the pensive. Harry returned the memory to his head and then dared to look at Hermione. There was an expression of intense concentration on her face then she relaxed. "No, there is nothing I can remember but he didn't like me very much, that Ron Weasley, did he?"
"No not then, but that all changed, I think that first time you were a bit of a shock to both of us. Then later you did turn out to be disgustingly clever, and that never goes down well with boys of a certain age. But all three of us became the best of friends, though it took a mountain troll to do it."
"Oooh! when do we get to see that?" asked Hermione in anticipation.
"All in good time," said Harry with a smile.
Hermione was in the bathroom when there was a knock on the study door, "Come in," Harry called out, and with a click the door opened revealing a rather odd-looking wizard.
"Professor Cervelet," the wizard announced introducing himself with a florid bow, "I have the honour of meeting Monsieur Harry Potter? -Yes? -No?" he spoke with a heavy French accent.
"Err... yes," Harry replied.
"And the Mademoiselle?"
"Umm... in the bathroom."
"Ahh, c'est bien!"
"Pardon?" said Harry.
"It is how you say ...good." The professor smiled and walked into the room. He presented a strange sight, he was of average height but his neck was unexpectedly long as were the fingers of his hands, one of which he was holding out for Harry to shake. The oddest thing however was the size of his head, it was far too big and wobbled about most alarmingly on his long neck.
"Your Madam Pomfrey will have told you that for any treatment to be effective the Mademoiselle must converse with no one but yourself, yes?" Harry nodded. "So, when she returns I will send her to sleep."
"Hang on, just a minute." Harry interrupted crossly.
"No minutes to spare, 'Endormir'" the wand that had suddenly appeared in the professor's hand spat blue sparks across the room and hit Hermione who had just emerged from her bedroom, Harry rushed over and reached her before she hit the floor. Cradling her in his arms Harry carried a deeply asleep Hermione over to his camp bed and laid her on it. Then he turned in anger to the professor, who was watching him intently.
"Poppy was correct," Cervelet murmured to himself his head nodding in satisfaction.
"Was that really necessary?" said Harry trying to control his temper, reminding himself that this professor was supposed to be helping.
"Of course, or I would not have done it," he said simply. "Now Harry," he pronounced it Harrree, rolling his r's and drawing the y to a long e. "I may call you Harry," Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I must examine this young lady's mind and see what can be done."
"We've already tried the Sorting Hat and it said that Hermione's memories are all there but hidden behind a barrier," said Harry wanting to make it clear they had not been idle. "I did think of Legilimency but I am not very good at it. So we used the pensive and I was going to expose her to my memories of her, in the hopes it might spark something off."
"I see," the professor scratched his head while he thought. "It was as well you did not try Legilimency you could have destroyed whatever it is in there holding her memories. In most cases, the mind is a total blank but if the famous Hogwarts Sorting Hat says there is something there then I must make sure. As for your memories Harry they will cause no harm and they may yet help."
The professor held his wand over Hermione's sleeping form and moved it in a circular motion around her head. Harry had seen Madam Pomfrey do much the same when she was searching for a broken bone or a nasty strain. It was, however, unusual for him to hear a healer muttering to themselves in French and Harry found it rather frustrating because he didn't speak the language. Professor Cervelet continued his examination for the next half an hour and by the time he finished Harry was champing at the bit to know what he had found.
"Well?" was the not too diplomatic enquiry Harry uttered.
"It is most interesting; I have not encountered a case like this before. As I said the mind is usually blank just occasionally there is a wisp of memory but your Sorting Hat is correct. Something protected Mademoiselle Granger's mind before she was hit with the Obliviation spell, there is a hint as to the magic responsible but I cannot be sure." Cervelet paced backward and forward deep in thought. "You were with her Harry?"
"No, I arrived just too late, but I stopped the Death Eater that did it."
"And where is he?"
"Azkaban, I should think by now," said Harry darkly. "The Aurors took him away."
"His wand?"
"Sorry I don't know but the Auror in charge of the detail was Barton Ash, I'm sure he would be able to help you."
"Very good, it will take me some time to sort all this out but I am hopeful, I will send you an owl before I come next time," he indicated the sleeping Hermione, "you can be prepared."
"Thank-you," said Harry simply, "I couldn't bear the thought of losing her."
"Quite so," Professor Cervelet tried hard to hide a knowing smile. "You may continue to use the pensive your memory sits in her head quite well, and now my boy you can awaken her."
Harry touched his wand to the back of Hermione's hand 'Enervate' he whispered, Hermione stirred and he heard a snort of disgust from the professor.
"You are truly an Englishman, Harry," he said, shaking his head in disappointment. "You have a pretty girl to awaken from a deep sleep and you use Enervate, a Frenchman, he would have used a kiss." And with that, he disappeared through the doorway and down the spiral stairs, his cloak billowing out behind him.
Harry stared open mouthed at the departing professor. "I didn't know a kiss would do," he said lamely in his defence.
* * *
Ronald Bilius Weasley was down in the dumps and he felt he had a right to be. He had lost his brother and his girlfriend in a period of twenty-four hours. His brother was gone forever, and, if everyone who had talked to him so far were to be believed, his girlfriend was as good as dead as well. His own ingrained wizarding sense told him that was true but there was a nagging uncertainty, so many unusual things had happened over the last few years, he needed to speak to someone to help clarify his thoughts. Harry was unavailable to ask; his best friend would have tried or at least have been honest enough to say he didn't know; Ron needed someone he could trust as much, so in this instance Ron turned to Bill. Ron apparated to Shell Cottage late one morning and sought out his oldest brother.
"Ron, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?" said Bill, his good spirits were almost as forced as the smile Ron sent in return.
"Feel a bit bummed actually Bill, wanted to talk," he said. "I tried Mum and Dad but ...well, they're busy with the Burrow..."
"Ok little brother what's the problem?"
"Hermione."
"Ah! and I take it Mum and Dad don't think Hermione will get better again?" suggested Bill.
"Yeh, that's right, no one does, well only Harry, Madam Pomfrey and some french bloke and McGonagall says Harry is disillusioned too over stressed by the Voldemort thing to see sense," said Ron despondently.
"I'm sorry Ron but I have to say I agree with the majority here." Ron scowled at his brother. "The obliviation spell is very complex, applied lightly and with care you can remove a memory that lasts only seconds, or if you need to you can remove minutes or hours, days or weeks. It's all down to the skill of the wizard." Bill produced a bottle and two glasses and poured Ron a drink. "The thing is that those obliviated in that way put the gaps in their memories down to natural forgetfulness, muggle or wizard it doesn't matter, it's an easy thing to get over. But you saw what happened to that Lockhart bloke, that was an unrestrained curse, all be it not very powerful because of the state of your wand; that was five years ago and he is still in St.Mungo's. Hermione was hit by an unrestrained curse from a desperate Death Eater, can you imagine the power he used. I am afraid that even with this treatment that Poppy Pomfrey has instigated the Hermione that you knew and fell in love with is gone. She may look the same but that's all; you will chew yourself up inside if you imagine it can be any different. No one, not even Harry, can change the facts of magic." Bill downed his firewhisky in one and coughed as the raw spirit burned his throat. Ron stared deeply into the glass he held in his hand and at the amber liquid it contained. He lifted the glass to his lips and tipped it back, he swallowed the firewhisky; it might just as well have been water, for he didn't feel a thing.
Ron returned to the Burrow and an uncertain future, sure the dispensation from Hogwarts for his part in the defeat of Voldemort, a fine piece of parchment heavily decorated and important looking, would guarantee him serious consideration for any job he cared to apply for. But it didn't fill the gap in his life left by his best friends. He reasoned that some day he would meet Harry again but he had finally accepted what they had all tried to tell him and that if he was honest with himself, what he had believed from the start, that Hermione, his Hermione, was gone forever. He had no choice; he would have to move on.
He busied himself to block out any thoughts of his best friends by helping his parents return their home to the same wonderful muddle that Harry had so admired the first time he had seen it. Fortunately the damage was mainly superficial but even when the repairs were completed there was still something missing, the soul of his family was badly bruised and only time would heal that particular injury.
As the days turned into weeks and the weeks became a month or more, Ron found that he was spending a lot of his time with his sister and Luna. This trio was a strange reversal of the threesome he'd had with Harry and Hermione, but it kept him occupied and his mind off other things. The whole Voldemort episode had changed Ginny, there was nothing left of the little girl he remembered so well, she had developed into a strong-minded young woman with a wicked wand arm. Luna, Ron reckoned, was unchangeable. The imprisonment she had suffered, would have badly affected even the most level headed and perhaps that was her secret, Luna's unique outlook on life may well have been the thing that saved her. Ron found himself drawn to this odd girl, Harry had told him on several occasions that there was more to Luna than met the eye and now Ron was starting to see this for himself.
Ginny had grown in ways that her brother would never imagine. She could see the beginnings of the attraction between her brother and her friend and was pleased for them both. As time went by, she found more and more excuses to be somewhere else leaving them alone together, assuming correctly that nature would take its course. Ginny herself was marking time, perhaps as Ron had initially done, she still held hopes that she would see Harry again and they would rekindle their relationship. But she had to remind herself that it was now well over a year since Harry had said 'thanks but no more' and now with his preoccupation with Hermione, even if the real Hermione never resurfaced... well, she could see only one outcome to that. Ginny too, knew it was time for her to move on.
* * *
Harry and Hermione were moving on as well but at a nice comfortable pace. Harry had gently led Hermione through his memories of their first year together and was now well into their second. He glossed over the holiday periods when Hermione had returned to her parents' home, he couldn't find a way to tell her about them and he really knew very little about them to tell her anyway. There was only one fact he was sure of and how could he say that she had, in a way, done to them what Larrick Cade had done to her, all be it with the best intentions. It was a subject best avoided and strangely, Hermione never asked.
Some of the memories Harry recalled shocked her, some made her cry with sadness, others were down right scary. She had cried at the vision of Harry sitting next to her petrified person holding her hand and whispering to her un-responding self that he needed her. She was petrified in another way as she watched Harry battle with the Basilisk and so nearly die but had cheered out loud when he had destroyed the diary and defeated that awful boy the book had conjured. There were a few memories that made her laugh, but as time passed she came to understand the life Harry had led up to now, the struggle he endured to stay alive and keep his friends safe and that very little of his life had been fun.
He enjoyed Quidditch that was obvious, his memories of the games were very clear in his mind and Hermione experienced the thrill Harry felt climbing on a broom almost at first hand. It was real enough for her to tell Harry she didn't really like flying and he had the grace to tell her that she hadn't liked it the first time around either.
By the beginning of August, they had worked their way through their third year and relived the happiness of helping Sirius and Buckbeak and their shock and anger over the betrayal of Peter Pettigrew. Hermione marvelled at the strength of the young wizard that Harry was growing into and the contentment that he gained from having even the most tenuous connections to family. She also began to see something she knew must be coming; she had not forgotten Harry's conversation with the girl called Luna that day on the lawns. True, she had never broached the subject since but she had not forgotten. Hermione could not help but tell that her younger self was seeing past all the arguments she had with Ron; her younger self was beginning to consider the ginger- haired lad in a different light.
To her now it didn't make sense she had arrived at her own initial impression of Ron. She thought that at times he was a prat, definitely annoying, incredibly lazy and in all that, Hermione mark one appeared to agree with her. So, there must be something else going on for her younger self think more of this boy; but what?
Hermione felt she needed to place herself with these two boys that were the mainstay of her former life. She needed to see if the impressions she was making now were the same as those she had originally formed. Harry, so far, had appeared like a comet, streaking in and out of danger, surviving by the skin of his teeth but always trying to make sure his friends were out of the main threat to life and limb. But that threat was always there following him like a tail follows a dog and Hermione knew that the Hermione of the memories was frightened by that, and it had stopped her taking her love for Harry into the realms of romance. Ron on the other hand, annoying as he was at times, was as she had been, one-step removed from the centre of the storm. He also had deep anchors in a secure family group; Harry was very much the free radical with nothing to tie him down. Ron was security a place to run to when the weather became too bad, a shelter from the lightening that Harry always carried with him.
And yet she knew that both the young and the grown up Harrys were in love with her. She remembered his conversation with Dumbledore, it was clear that he loved her now and had done so before and yet in his memories or in real time actions he never demonstrated that love. Rather he had kept it concealed, almost as if he was ashamed that his love might spoil something else.
Now she understood as Harry had all those years ago. Expecting his life to be forfeit, in their quest to destroy Voldemort, Harry had hidden his love under a platonic attachment and watched Hermione and Ron's rocky relationship slowly develop into something that eventually must have been more than affection. How that ever happened Hermione was unsure, as Harry's memories up to now had shown that Ron was blissfully ignorant of the fact that his counterpart Hermione had any feelings at all.
However, armed with this information Hermione now watched Harry's memories from a slightly different perspective. She was not so much trying to fill the spaces left by her missing memories anymore but watching the interaction between the three of them, seeing the subtle dance of teenage feelings that could soar one minute in wild hope and then as suddenly plummet into the depths of desperation and loneliness. This Harry's eye view taught Hermione something of herself but so much more about the boy and his feelings for her. She was touched by the sad look in his eyes when the girl in his memories turned her attention to another and something deep inside her warmed when he showed pride in the young girl's achievements, but he always kept himself at a distance and that was the saddest thing of all.
* * *