Author's Note: This is a pseudo-sequel to a previous story I wrote and finished rather abruptly. But in truth, I am exploring the simply fact that magic is a lot more than just what the wizarding world offers. It has to be. Its the same understanding that various religions can come to the same result through different methods, or that science has countless ways of analyzing a problem in different fields that often look to produce the same thing. Magic is. This is undeniable. So the story then comes to how does a person respond to the world of magic as it is, now, constantly in flux.
I start with Hermione and her view in the fact that she is the most logic and in a way accepting of change than anyone
else. Harry is the catalyst so to start with him is a bit awkward but nevertheless this is a story about Harry and his
trials and tribulations.
I will also explore various "holy" ideas of fanfiction, things that we accept to be true without question, one of which is prophecy and how the characters respond. I will also be looking at how various characters respond to others, how people grow in a natural and fluid manner, including all pitfalls and faults. I want this to be as real as possible, so please give feedback on how a character is acting.
Standard disclaimer applied, please enjoy.
It's hard, sometimes, to think about others before we think about ourselves. It's hard to differentiate between the now and the future, before the now has left and past us behind. What's harder is to do the right thing for the other person, no matter how hard it is on us now and then. The point of all of this -
"Mum," his daughter screamed and Dan Granger's hands shook from the keyboard, his body cringing in recoil from the angry and frustration within that voice. Hermione had been home for three days and that was all it took for his wife and daughter to be on each others nerves. Like mother, like daughter. He saved his file and turned off the computer, stepping away for a moment until the chaos and the yelling ended.
The study was his Fortress of Solitude, where he keep all his little memories from a previous life. Where he stored his books, his ideas, himself, away from his family, so when he left his study, he could be the father he was, not the man he used to be. Turning off the only light in the room, an oil lamp, he walked away from the black oak desk, runes covered almost every inch of it. His feet flowed across the ground, and as he left, a point on the floor glowed briefly, so much so that he didn't even notice.
"Daddy!" A bushy-haired bullet shot down the hallway and hugged him as closed the door. Despite having finished her third year at her school, Hermione still was enamored with her father, though the shine was disappearing. He was a knight after all... when she wasn't thinking of her other knight and worrying about him. Her hugs weren't as tight anymore, and often she would disappear into her room to write a letter for her other knight, letters that she would rarely send. Though, Emma was more upset about their daughter's crush than he was. Maybe because he had accepted a long time ago that one could not help who they loved. His eyes meet his wife's and knew that this was one fight that his daughter was going to lose, as he could not fight her wishes.
"What seems to be the problem, pumpkin?" He stepped back from her and looked down at the tears that had stained his daughter's face. She had started to try make-up last year, nothing extravagant but enough that he could see the lines where the tears were falling. Emma was so proud when Hermione wanted to go buy make-up last year. It wasn't that they weren't proud before, hallway was filled with awards that she had won: music, spelling bees, dance, even an odd art one every once in a while. Hermione's greatest power was her focus. He had seen her sit and read entire collection of books simply because she was focused enough to sit and read and memorize.
"I want her to see our doctor." Emma spoke, pleading with her eyes. Dan nodded and looked back at Hermione.Â
"I don't need to go," Hermione pleaded. "I'm perfectly fine. Madam Pomfrey gives the Muggle-Born-"
"You know I dislike that term, pumpkin," Dan said. Hermione just shrugged and continued.
"An exam each year we come back. I don't see the point-"
"Are wizards always healthy?" Emma asked.
"No, but-"
"Do they have to deal with the same illnesses as we do?"
"No, though-"
"Then what is the argument? Our doctor will give you just a basic exam. No worries."
"I talked with Madame Pomfrey, she said everything was alright, no worries-"
"Well, just to be on the safe side, I'm sure it won't be trouble to-"
"I'm fine. I'm healthy, there is nothing wrong with me." The Granger stubborn gene came from Emma, he swore. He wanted to glare at her, his daughter or his wife, but that would only make the situation worse.Â
"We're not saying that there is anything wrong with you, but rather its just a precautionary move." Emma said, though repeated would make more sense. Dan could tell that this was the exact same argument they were having in the hallway. "I'm sure we could find a doctor to go to in the magical world as well if that is your worry. Its important to cover your bases Hermione. And you haven't had a physical in quite some time."
"Three years." Hermione didn't look up when she added the information.
"Three years it is then; so you can see why this is important." It had been four years since Hermione had entered the wizarding world, and the past three had really changed their little girl. Something dreadful occurred last year, and if was obvious for Dan to notice, then something was terrible wrong.
"Okay, well, Mum has presented her points, so what is your argument?" Dan asked. He stood up and looked down at Hermione. She was slowly growing up, standing at a five feet six inches. At his full height, he stood well above her, and his wife. Hermione remained quiet, and shuffled her feet, her eyes staring at the biege carpet of their second floor. "Do you have an argument? Anything to say against it?"
"I don't want to?" she said. Emma smirked at Dan and Hermione, enjoying her victory, it seemed. But no one ever said Hermione was anything but stubborn. "Please don't make me go." Dan was shocked to hear the voice of his daughter, a voice he had not heard in three years. The quiet scared little girl he knew for most of her life until she left for that godawful school, away from him and her mother. Emma walked to her daughter and knelt down, taking the place of Dan. She wrapped Hermione in a hug and held her tight.  Dan took a step back. Consoling his daughter when she was angry was one thing, when she was about to cry, completely different and a topic to be feared. "Please, mum."
"I don't understand." Dan looked at his daughter as though he would a book, something to be read and analyzed. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. His daughter was brave and brazen almost, willing to charge into anything.  The last doctor's appointment three years ago led to the most questions about health he had ever heard, cumulative, and he was dentist for Christs' sake. They had a shelf filled with medical books, some journals even from Hermione' curiosity. No something had changed, and he would figure it out, quickly and effectively for the sake of his family.
"Just please, please don't make me go."Â A flash of dark light and he knew that there was a problem, one that stemmed from a spell cast upon his daughter.
"Honey your health is very impor-"
"Please?!" Hermione practically screamed into her mother's shoulder and a vase exploded down the hall. "please, don't make me go, I'm begging you. I-I-I-" A wave of his hand and Hermione feel asleep. Â
"Daniel, you swore-" She was shocked at her husbands blatant disregard for his own rules.  Even he was acting in the best interests of his daughter.
"I swore first and foremost that I would protect my family." He said as he rushed to his daughter, who was limp in Emma's arms. "Even if that means from themselves." His hand glowed, or more specifically the pentagram that was burned into his palm glowed bright purple, as he whispered in a forgotten tongue. Emma smiled despite her worries, and even Hermione's face slowly turned into a smile as peaceful dreams danced in her head. "No, someone has infected our daughter."
"Infected?" He recognized the spell work from years ago, a spell that removed or altered a part of the mind for the betterment of the caster. It was a wand spell. If he could spit he would.
"For lack of a better term, honey" The colors changed form purple to white, and he lowered his hand onto Hermione's forehead. "Her mind was being altered, by a wanded-one. I don't know who, but it was powerful, and advanced. This was no minor spell, but strong one connected to her cognitive skills, designed to make her fear or distrust, or maybe even the opposite, I don't know who-"
"Doctors?" Emma added and petted back Hermione's hair. The static in the air was making her daughter's hair frizz up, as was hers.Â
"No, not doctors. Something else. I can't figure it out from the spell, but something is missing, something that was important to pumpkin." The pentagram changed from white to blue, and Dan's hand started to shake. He was worried as he read over the spell that had been cast. It had been years since he even tried something like this, and he was never a healer, certainly not a mind one. His power was in destruction, or more precisely, removal of obstacles in his way.  Could he convince his magic that this was simply that, an obstacle in this argument?
"Do we need my floor?" Emma was worried and rightfully so. Between them, he was unsure if he could help his daughter. This was needed to be done now, the repair might take his wife's powers, but not now. Now was simply a battle of wills. Dan's versus his magic.
"No, here should be fine." His eyes flared blue and his entire hand glowed. If he was paying attention to anything other than his daughter, he would have seen Emma's hair floating up. He would have a red spark jump across the room from outlet to outlet.  His chanted his mantra over and over. begone... begone... begone... begone... begone... begone... as his hand remained millimeters from Hermione's forehead. He didn't hear his wife softly speak, her words, well word, was long and fast, perfect in every syllable and pronunciation. He didn't see her eyes change into gold, and light erupt from her mouth. Dan Granger didn't see any of this. He was simply focused on helping his daughter.Â
begone, begone, begone, begone begone begone begone begonebegonebegonebegonebegonebeg-
A shadow stretched out from Hermione's mouth, grasping at the air. Emma jerked back, dropping her daughter into Dan's arms. This was not the world she knew, and it frightened her. Rightfully so.  The world was dark. Much darker than Hermione knew, than Emma realized, than Dan faced. The shadow formed into a hand and pulled itself out of the open mouth, gripping her lower jaw and pressing down. Dan prayed he didn't hear popping or the breaking of bone as the hand pulled a shoulder out and then another shoulder and finally with both out, wiggled a smaller arm of his daughter. No head was visible. As the shadow pulled its chest out, two faint outlines of eyelids of a single large eye was center on the shadow. With a sloppy plop, two stubby feet appeared and standing on his daughter's face was this creature of darkness.
And it opened its eye.Â
Dan stared at the creature with equal fervor and power, his eyes returning the empty glare the shadow gave him out of single bloodshot eye.  A staring contest of masters. and all Dan could do was chant under his breath: begonebegonebegonebegonebegonebegoNEBEGONE BEGONE! the final word was followed by an explosion of the creature, the shadow covering the walls and disappearing into the air.
For a moment, all Dan and Emma could do was breathe. The problem was Hermione wasn't.
******
"You're daughter breathing on her own now," the doctor said. "Her heart rate is stable and everything else seems to be in order." A glance over his shoulder to the bushy-haired girl lying on the hospital bed showed his lack of concern. "She's a very lucky girl." The doctor was short, and the balding head reflected the light well, probably shined with shoe polish. His white medical coat was spotless but his shirt beneath it was smeared with what looked like mustard.
"Clearly," Emma replied, her eyes not moving from her daughter. They brought her quickly to hospital, one where a doctor was an old colleague of Dan's. Sadly, he wasn't on duty to play deus ex machina at the moment, so a random pediatrician took over their semi-catatonic daughter. "Can we go in?"
"Certainly," the man continued, looking down at his watch. "Shall I assume that you will be staying with her?"
"Of Course," Dan said as he walked right past the man, leaving Emma to deal with the fool. The only reason why they had brought Hermione to this hospital was Dr. Stephens, a...man from the Old Days. And the old bastard wasn't available, whatever that meant. He didn't care about these useless doctors who believed they understood what had happen to his daughter, who said that it was simply a nervous breakdown from something. Dan and Emma did nothing to alleviate that thought, simply because it was easier to explain the danger that had finally past. There would be answers to come, he was sure of it, by his hand or someone else's. His left hand glowed slightly before he hid it within his jacket.
His daughter was not dead, and it wasn't the machines that told him this, the quiet beeping of the heart and the silent sizzle of a monitor. It wasn't the slow and methodical up and down motion of her chest, the deep breathes his daughter gave to the world and took away. No, the color of her cheeks, the soft rose that was never there before, the smoothness that he could see him here, the color, the life, that was within his daughter that was not within her for the past three years. She was alive and well, but was she the Hermione who learned the magic. Would she be happy? Normal? Safe? He couldn't protect his family all that well against a wanded-one, whose flexibility was the greatest advantage. And the power.... the power that this one specific wanded-one-
"Dan?" His wife's voice and gentle hand on his shoulder awoke him from his revelry.Â
"You've never seen anything like this?" It wasn't an accusation, but Dan needed to know. the Warrior within him, the one he quieted for the past thirteen years, needed to know.
"There is a sect that summons and binds..." she started. "But no, in all my research, I have yet to see anything like this. Whatever happened to Hermione....what did happen?"
Dan shrugged. "You know how strange the wanded magic can be, not straight forward like your words or my spells. No... what happened tonight is something new and as dark-"
"As the day is long?" A low and dull voice said behind them. If Dan wasn't paying attention, he probably would have forgotten that something had even been said. Emma would never forget though.
"Geoff..." The venom was strong in her voice. Dan knew his wife was pronouncing the name of his old colleague correctly, unlike most of them who simply just called the man Geoff because it was as close as they could to pronounce the name. Standing behind them in a black medical coat, button tightly and a stethoscope hanging from his neck, was an unsupposing...man. He held only a black cane, with a silver curved hook at the top, one he did not use for support. Dan never remember what Dr. Stephens looked like, only that it was average. He felt the air drop around him, not temperature, but become harder, his breathes became labored but nevertheless his eyes did not turn away from Dr. Geoff Stephens. One who did rarely was better for it.
"Emmanis-"
"I no longer go by that name!" She shouted and a breathe of light sparked for a moment from her mouth. "I will not tarnish myself with that name."
"Easy, Em's." Dan's turn to calm down his partner. Years had past since they had seen the old...man, but time hadn't affected him at all. "Dr. Stephens is here for Hermione."
"Yes, I remember..." He walked into the room right past the parents, and straight over the to the sleeping girl. "You're excuse for leaving."Â He placed his bag that wasn't there before down and took a seat next to Hermione, and proceeded to give her a routine check: temperature, blood pressure, heart rate, magic levels, divinity rating, Spes Ferre Test, etc. Routine.
"My reason, Dr." Dan replied. Emma remained rooted in her spot in the doorway, while Dan ventured into the room. He stood as far away from the man as possible, yet still near his daughter.
"That is what I said, no?" Dr. Stephens listened to her heart for a moment. "Up on the sixth floor, laying in room 652, and hopefully still breathing, is a..." Dr. Stephens shuffled his instruments in his bag, which was probably why there was a pause, Dan hoped. "Child whom I believe would interest you."
"The only child whom interests me-"Â Emma started, but a hand from the doctor silenced her.
"Not you, woman. Dan'el. He would be the one who should take a look-"
"I stand by my wife's statement."Â Prior to leaving the Order, Dan was part of the many people who sought out and dealt with new recruits, both for their side and others. That was only thing that Stephens would believe would interest him, especially since his daughter had become his purpose in his new life.
"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted," Dr. Stephens paused again, but his eyes stayed on Hermione. "He would be the one who takes a look as payment."
Dan sighed. This was not going to be fun, pretty, or even prosperous in the least.  The last time Dr. Stephens had requested payment for something, Dan left without the use of his right arm for almost six months and barely walking. Probably was the reason why it was also the last time they had seen the old...man. "Fine."
"Dan?!"
"I have no real choice," Dan replied, looking at his stationary wife. "Not if we want answers for what happened to our daughter." Emma glared at her husband but a brief and almost non-existent look toward her daughter was all he needed to know that she had accepted. he would in be trouble later with her, but she had accepted it.
"652, you said, correct?"Â No response from the doctor so Dan assumed that the number was correct.
The journey to the room was worthless and quiet, and Dan preferred not to dwell on it.  Just as his thoughts preferred not to dwell on the task at hand. The doctor mentioned nothing more than to check on the boy, one who would interest him. Sadly, given Dan's focus on his daughter, there wasn't much that interested him at ...the...moment.
He halted about three doors down from 652. The floor was empty, the air stale and dry, the lights flickering. Thunder cracked outside, and for a moment, Dan was sure he was alone as the darkness left the hallway.  A nurse bustled in and out of rooms, fast paced, focused on their tasks. So some other patients were here. Then why the - Another crack and the lightning appeared to shatter the glass of the window far down the hall. The room was the only one lit at this hour, and no nurse entered the room, and no one exited.  As all the other lights drifted from on off, on off, on off, that remained constant. Dan walked down the hall, gliding around a nurse who rushed past him, and stood in the door way, trying to understand why he was sent here.Â
Lying on the bed, with a large gauze covering his bare chest, a tube coming out of his throat, and the soft gentle beating of a machine signifying the heart was still working, was a boy no older than Hermione, he hoped. The cast on the arm and the multiple bruises across his body were not good signs. He grabbed the chart on the end of the bed and pulled the curtain around them, leaving the boy and Dan alone in solitude as he over looked the chart.Â
Harry Potter? he read. The boy who Hermione is always on about? What is he- his eyes scanning the rest of the medical chart, every drug given and every choice made, every cut. There was a chart even with a scale of Harry's body that showed all the scars, and Dear God! He closed the page and turned away, throwing it away to a spare chair.
"Dear boy, what did they do to you?" He stood next to Harry's bed and placed a hand on the child's forehead. He was too thin for a boy his age and much too short. His hair was shaggy and wild, though that might be from the surgery and moving him around. Just as Dan went to move, to figure out why Dr. Stephens had sent him here, Harry's hand shot out and grabbed hands holding him still. His eyelids burst open and powerful green eyes stared at the older man. "I understand." He barely spoke, as if the words refused to leave his throat.
When a child is born, for a single moment before the child opens its eyes, sometimes there is a chance for the divinity of good and evil to take possession of said child and curse or bless, depending on who took possession. After that brief possession, the child is destined for very great things. Very great. This was not the case with Harry. Sometimes, a child is born with the heritage of the divinity, back to the first. That child is destined for very great things. That was not the case with Harry, either. Neither he subject standard possession nor selling of his soul. No, with Harry, the problem came from the simple fact that sometimes, when woman is tired and angry and frustrated, and her husband, or wife in the stranger cases, was something....more, that something more grew up, and was for lack of a better term, human, though divine in the same moment. Harry wasn't normal that was for certain, but his curse and his blessing Dan had seen enough in the bodies of other men and women, other children, to know how strange and wonderful and terrifying it was.
Especially since what he was seeing was impossible. Hidden beneath the emerald gaze of this boy, behind the eyes and skin, was the darkest power he knew. There was no real gift that allowed a person to see what was there, only an understanding and the knowledge that if you look in the right way through the right mindset at the right time, you could tell. This child may human, but he shouldn't be. Not by the level of power he was producing.
"Do you know his parentage?" he asked to the...man who appeared in thin air behind him. Dr. Stephens took a step forward into the room, across from Dan, next to Harry. Harry shifted closer to Dan, away from the other...man. Dan took Harry's hand and held it tightly, trying to give strength to the frightened boy. Whatever brought Harry here, the horror would not end tonight.
"Pity, he is still breathing," Dr. Stephen said. He put his bag upon the ground and hung his cane on a machine next to him, balancing the straight hook to hold it up. The silver reflected the light well from the room. "I have figured out that his father is not a full devil. However, even you who has lost your touch can see what I see. See what he is, is he not?"
"A Hell's child?" Dan asked, but looked at Harry. "But he hasn't the marking of-" This boy should be one of the few who were born from a family of power, of great, terrible power. There was nothing, however, to support that statement. Harry's parents were normal, wanders for sure, but normal, weren't they? None of his research indicated that James or Lily Potter were anything but human.
"A half, I know. This is a lineage thing, not a parentage, though from those I met before," Dr. Stephens reached into his coat for something. "they would called the first Father." He removed a scalpel and Harry was helpless to watch what would follow, at least his body was. His eyes glared, no longer afraid, though, daring the man to try.
He didn't think, he didn't even realize what he had done until it was over. Dan reached across the bed and pulled Dr. Stephens by his lapels, throwing him against the outer wall, placing himself between the kind doctor and the wounded boy. "You will not harm him." He swore an oath after Hermione's birth, after the birth of his angel, to never allow that decision to occur again. Never to prejudge them again. Harry Potter was a good kid from Hermione's stories, if they were true. And if not, Dan prayed he had enough power to stop the child should he ever cross that line. But he was a child nevertheless and no child deserved that fate because of some bigoted fool.
"He is a devil," Dr. Stephens said, fixing his coat, and brushing himself off. "You know the law."
"I left, Geoff. I left because of that law."
"Yes, I know of your sympathies."
"I will not kill an innocent child."
"There is nothing innocent about them."
"Good or evil is not decided at birth. There is no such thing as Fate, as Destiny."
"You're words, not mine, Dan'el." Dan growled, and picked the old...man up again, holding him off the ground and leaving his feet the dangle beneath him. Harry watched helpless as the light vanished from the room, sinking into Dan as he summoned the energy to do what he had to. "If you continue this... fight, Dan'el, you're family will die."
"You stay the fuck away from my family, you f'-" Dan was thrown across the room, shattering the outer wall. Thankfully, his momentum died just after hitting the wall, landing on the inside of the room, rather than outside with the rubble six floors down.
"Dan'el, Dan'el, Dan'el." Dr. Stephens glided across the floor, grabbing his cane, his staff, his scythe before reaching the fallen man. "You seem to believe that this is a simple fight that you could win. I am the oldest because I have survived. This child should die because that is the way, not because it is good or evil. When will you see that? These concepts you humans like: Good, Evil, right, wrong. They don't exist. They are all just figments of your imagination. In the end, there is only what needs to be done to maintain the balance. The more of his kind that finds their way into the world, the more danger the world is in. You saw that once. What happened? When did you get soft?"
"I will not...murder... children, Stephens..." Dan was breathing hard. Dr. Stephens was doing something, hardening the air. He had seen it once before during an interrogation, and the man's lungs collapsed on themselves, crushed by a boulder the mortician said. Between the throw and now the deadening air, he was in trouble. He tried mutter his mantra, but words would not come out. His mind, unfocused. begon...e, beg....one, b...ego...ne....
"It isn't murder if they aren't human." He leaned forward and stared through his black glasses, for which Dan was grateful the...man never took them off. There were so many stories, no facts, for a reason. Dr. Geoff Stephens, a pseudonym of the nth degree, had lived a long and blood-filled life. He was always part of the Order, from the beginning until the end. And there was a reason for his survival: he was the strongest of them. "I hoped that you would see that, Dan'el. You were one of the best and brightest. What happened?" Dan stuttered, trying to fight back, but his arms were tired, his legs refused to move. "Shhh, don't speak." be....gon...e, be....go...ne.....b...e...gon...e " It'll be over soon. Then, after I clean up this little.... accident.... I will attend to your family down stairs. Pity to kill a daughter of Eve." b...e...g...ooooooo "You will be with them shor-" A metal bar was sticking of the Stephens' chest, along with various pieces of meaty flesh and bone, and well... something else that Dan could see.Â
He gasped as his lungs started to work again.  "Oi, wanker." A voice said, and Dr. Stephens stared at the broken metal jutting from him. "Over my dead body." Dan could see, he could barely move, but he heard a boy's voice, a kid no older than his daughter. Where did he come from, how was he not effective against-
Dr. Stephens' laughter interrupted the thought. "You really think that a silly metal bar would kill me."
The kid snorted. "No," he replied. "But it was enough for you to stop paying attention to where I was." Dr. Stephen twisted around to see a fist coming toward him. Dan watched as Harry Potter, the boy who had just came out of major surgery from a knife wound nicking his right ventricle along with countless other injuries, punched an immortal man hard enough to go through the wall and out into the rain below.Â
For a moment, Dan couldn't believe his eyes. It wasn't his magic that saved him; he couldn't even summon the words to control his magic. The lack of oxygen left his brain all confused and muddled, and here Harry stood up from his wound and went toe-to-toe with one of the Dominions in the world.  Harry stood probably shy of five eight, and was incredibly thin, emaciated almost. Yet he stood as though he were the caped crusader himself, threatening a villain with a mere glance. Which was interesting because he was wearing a hospital gown. His eyes, bright green, shown and almost glowed with a terrible power threatening to break out. "You need to go, Mr. Granger."
"Harry, I don't know-" No halfie, no Hell's Child could have done what Harry did. A full demon or devil would have been hard pressed. It was impossible. In all his years as an Order member, it was strictly impossible for a halfie do to that.
"Dan!" Emma's voice broke what ever held him down. She rushed over and hugged him tightly. "Dear God, what happened here."
"Mum? Dad?" Hermione's voice came from the hallway. It would be moments before she entered the room and saw the aftermath. Then the questions would start. Dan hurried to his feet and practically ran to the door, hoping to stop Hermione from entering. A vice-like grip on his arm stopped him.
"Mr. Granger," Harry said, staring into his eyes.  The depths of the green sun were amazing, blinding even. Harry's eyes no longer had pupils, iris, or anything, there were just green orbs of power. Bright. Alive. Green. Good. "Dan, you need to go."
"Harry, I-I-I" he stammered, and Harry just smirked. The room was calm again, silent. Had the rain stopped, why wasn't his wife asking questions-
"You can preform a summoning ritual, right?"
"Emma can."
"What do I need to summon part of me that has died?" An odd question, but answerable. Heard stranger from back home.
"A holy relic, or part of one. Any religion, though preferable one that the deceased was part of."
"My parents were Catholic. Any suggestions?"Â Hermione would be coming in here any moment and Harry was asking these pointless questions.
"Shroud of Turin would work."
"All of it."
"No, well, maybe, in theory just a square inch would work. We have the rest at my home." This was a casual conversation on a Sunday. Harry nodded.Â
"Thank you." With another smirk, Harry turned and started at a run and followed Dr. Stephens out into the pouring rain. Rain? Hadn't it stopped?
"Dan!" Emma hugged him tightly just as his daughter, dressed and ready to go, entered the room.
"You're alright." Thunder sounded outside, and the lights within the room flickered like the rest.
Â
"Dad?" Hermione asked, standing in the door way. "What happened here?" She took in the room, the
chaos, the destruction, and her father standing confused.
"I honestly," Dan replied. "don't know." He looked out the hole in the wall where Harry had left. The hole that was gone, and all the damage oblivated from the room. Only thing of Harry's that remained was the medical chart on the chair he discarded. "I honestly don't have the slightest clue what just happened." He looked at Emma and frowned. "And that frightens me."
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