Brian Hendrickson Normal Brian Hendrickson 9 92 2002-11-06T21:05:00Z 2003-09-05T05:20:00Z 12 7491 42700 355 85 52438 9.3821
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter takes place a little over a year after Chapter One. At the time I was anxious to get on with my plot. Only later did readers ask me what happened during that time. I am currently working on a sequel, which covers that gap in the story. Also, one of the reviews pointed out that I goofed on the number of Weasley brothers. This was a typo, which I THOUGHT I had corrected before I uploaded the chapter. (Sorry continuity fans!)
"CHILD'S PLAY"
(Chapter Two)
"Unless you see signs and wonders, you will not believe."
-John 4:48
****
"Does anyone here believe in magic?" Harry asked, as the crowd of four, five and six year-olds sat mesmerized on the grass before him. After the amazing things they had just witnessed, most of the children's hands went up, although a few skeptics still remained, particularly among the parents who stood at the back, arms folded upon their chests, radiating cynicism. "Well, I'll bet some of you are magical! Shall we find out?" Harry removed the conical wizard's hat covered with moons and stars that perched precariously on his shaggy mane of jet-black hair. He pulled back one of the oversized sleeves of his matching velvet wizard's robes. (The deliberately ill-fitting robes always reminded Hermione of Mickey Mouse playing The Sorcerer's Apprentice.) Harry reached into his hat and produced a brand new magic wand. "Now I want all of you to concentrate on this magic wand and see if you can make it rise into the air." He set the wand down on the table. "Now, everybody concentrate!"
The children squinted their eyes, clenched their fists, furrowed their little foreheads and leaned forward to show that they were really concentrating. The wand slowly began to rise off the table and floated over the heads of the astonished audience. While the kids fixated on the wand itself, the parents looked into the trees and on the roofs of adjacent houses to see how Harry did it. Harry was positive that the tall man in the dark glasses and the cheesy fake beard was David Copperfield and the gentleman in the bad wig was Lance Burton. He was half-tempted to levitate the wand over to them and keep it just out of their reach-but the wand was on a much more important mission. It settled just above the head of a dark haired six-year-old girl in a Paddington Bear T-Shirt.
I don't know how she does it, thought Harry. Earlier in the afternoon Hermione had said that the little girl looked "promising." Harry was still learning about the magical objects Hermione had used in the games in which she'd led the children before the performance, but he knew that in this area Hermione's instincts were right more often than not.
"You see? The magic wand is always right! What's your name, luv?"
"Alice. Alice Higgins."
"Well, Alice Higgins, the wand seems to think that you might have some magic in you. Would you like to find out?"
"Yes, please!"
"Then take the wand and bring it up here to me."
Little Alice seemed to hesitate at first, then reached up and snatched the wand out of the air. Harry couldn't help but smile as she took a moment to examine it for wires or other obvious gimmicks. Cheesy-Beard and Bad-Wig appeared to watch with particular interest. Satisfied that she wasn't being conned, but still skeptical, little Alice ran up to the stage to join Harry.
Harry then pulled a large white feather from his robes and set it on the table.
"Now when I tell you, I want you see if you can make the feather fly." Harry demonstrated how to swish and flick the wand. "And then you say the magic words, 'Wingardium Leviosa'."
It took little Alice a few tries to wrap her tongue around the words, but eventually…
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
The feather began to rise.
Alice's eyes grew wide with wonder.
"Now concentrate!" Harry knelt down and placed his hands on her shoulders. "What do you want the feather to do, Alice?" Oftentimes, for the sake of the performance, Harry had to help things along, but not this time. Little Alice was levitating it all by herself. She grinned from ear to ear. As the feather did loop-the-loops over the heads of the other children, Harry surreptitiously nodded to Hermione, who placed a check mark on the mailing list before Alice's name and address.
From the back of the crowd, an unseen observer frowned. Things were even worse than she had feared.
"…and just remember," Harry reminded his audience as he brought the performance to a close, "that the most powerful magic in the whole world…," his eyes met Hermione's and they shared a secret smile, "…is love." Harry extended his arms and bowed as the audience went wild.
After the show, little Alice just had to talk to Harry one more time.
Harry was cheerfully waving to Cheesy Beard and Bad Wig as they passed by. "'Bye David! 'Bye Lance!" The men muttered something unintelligible and kept walking.
Alice's mother timidly shook Harry's hand.
"You're very talented, Mr. Potter." Harry's smile dimmed a little. Even with the oversized sunglasses and the extra make up, the black eye was all too obvious. Harry was about to say something when little Alice tugged at his robes.
"Did I really make the feather fly, Mr. Potter?"
"Yes, Alice." Harry knelt down. "And that means you're a very special little girl. One day you're going to find out just how special you really are." Harry reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a silver chain. On it was hung a silver amulet about the size of an American dime engraved with a diminutive figure of a lion rampant. He slipped it around the little girl's neck. "Until that day, this will watch over and protect you-" Harry looked directly into her eyes; there was a question that she didn't dare speak aloud. "-even from him." He looked up at Alice's mother. "I promise."
Alice threw her arms around Harry's neck.
"I promise…"
*****
"Mum! Tommy hit me!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
Hermione paused from loading Harry's things into the van for a moment and focused her second-sight inward. The newest member of the Potter clan snoozed serenely inside his mother's womb in spite of the chaos that surrounded them. The image of her unborn child sleeping so peacefully made everything else around her pale into insignificance. She smiled to herself. The baby looked more like Harry with each passing day.
Because of all the noise, Hermione didn't hear her husband as he drew up behind her, but she recognized his touch immediately. Harry put his arms around her waist and gently caressed her swollen belly. Just as he brushed back her hair and kissed her on the neck, one of the little girls let out an ear-piercing screech that threatened to shatter every eardrum in the neighborhood. A little boy was pulling her pigtails.
"A small sample of what we have to look forward to in a few years," Harry said into his wife's ear.
"If your son ever misbehaves like that, his mother will hex him from here to Bristol."
"My son? What happened to our son?"
"If he acts that way, he's your son."
"How is the heir to the Potter dynasty, by the way?"
"See for yourself," She covered his hands with hers. Harry closed his eyes and for a moment they shared her vision of the tiny miracle they had made.
Harry Potter couldn't help but marvel at the way his life had been so totally transformed ever since Hermione had appeared on his doorstep a little over a year ago. At first he thought her mad with her tales of alternate realities and her strange alma mater, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Now she completely filled his life-no, she had become his life. Because of her, he had found the strength to walk away from Privet Drive and the Dursleys once and for all. By day, with the limitless patience of a born teacher, she had revealed to him the world of magic and sorcery; by night, still a teacher, but no longer patient, she had introduced him to an entirely different, but no less wondrous form of magic. As a result, in a few months she would present him with the most precious gift he could ever receive. On top of all that, she had proved to be a highly astute business manager for Harry's burgeoning career as a stage magician. Harry wondered if it was possible to be any happier than he was at that moment.
Hermione's thoughts also were about the day she had found Harry. It was almost as if she had been reborn that day. Everything before-the war with Lord Voldemort, the destruction of Hogwarts, the deaths of her friends-had begun to feel like nothing more than a horrible nightmare, fading away in the reassuring light of morning and the comforting warmth of Harry's arms. After all that she'd been through, her new life seemed almost ridiculously normal-or at least as normal as life can be for a newlywed witch and wizard with a baby on the way. There were times when she almost felt guilty for being so happy.
Harry had become her life as well: husband, lover, best friend, protector, provider and very soon he would add the title of "father". Perhaps more important, he was her star pupil, to whom she patiently imparted all the magical knowledge she had learned in her previous life as a student witch. The journal that she had begun that first day in a simple spiral notebook was now in its third volume. It would serve not only as a textbook for Harry's continuing education, but Hermione also hoped it would eventually form the beginnings of a future curriculum for a new Hogwarts-but with a difference. Instead of simply recreating the wizarding world as it was, this new Hogwarts would be a place where their son and others like him could learn to use their gifts for the benefit of all mankind. That last part would be Harry's legacy.
"His Majesty is having a little nap," Hermione said with a weary but contented smile. "His Mum could sure use a break though."
Harry began gently rubbing her shoulders.
"You didn't have to come today. Ron and I could've handled this show." Like most expectant fathers, Harry had become very protective of both his wife and his unborn son. "Dr. Pomfrey said you really need to start taking it easy from now on." From almost anyone else, such a suggestion would have been like waving a red flag at a bull. Hermione's independent streak and natural contrariness would have kicked in and she would have informed the person in no uncertain terms that she could take care of herself and that she didn't need to be fussed over. When it was Harry, her reaction was a bit more subdued.
"You ought to know by now, Harry Potter, that I'm just not a 'sit at home and put your feet up' kind of a girl. Besides, I just get a kick out of watching you work with the kids…" She gave him a sheepish grin that told him there was another reason…
"And…?
"Ron and Victoria have been married only a few weeks. They need some time to themselves."
"I've always suspected that under that 'Type-A' personality, you were really a hopeless romantic at heart."
"I must be hopeless," she grinned, "I married you, didn't I?"
Harry gave his wife a playful smack on the bottom, then turned her around and gave her a warm, affectionate kiss.
"I love you, Mrs. Potter," he whispered.
"And I love you-"
"Mr. Potter?" interrupted an old woman's voice with a slight Scottish burr to it. Minerva Smith peered at him over the granny glasses perched on her long, thin nose. Hermione gave Harry a look that said, "You're on your own, kiddo!" and returned to loading the van.
"Mrs. Smith! What a pleasant surprise." Harry's most charming boyish smile did nothing to alter the old woman's dour expression.
"Your charms are very effective on six year-olds, Mr. Potter, but you needn't waste them on me."
Harry pretended to be hurt. He took her hand and pressed it between his.
"Then I suppose running away with me to the Bahamas is out of the question?"
"The farthest he ever wanted to run away with me was Houndslow," Hermione sighed. "Some girls have all the luck!"
Mrs. Smith jerked her hand away.
"I saw the look that passed between you and your wife, Mr. Potter. I don't know exactly what you're up to, but I'm convinced that Alice Higgins was singled out for a reason."
"Just what is it that you think we're doing, Mrs. Smith?"
"You're searching for something…" she was groping for the right words. "There is something… different about those children. Some hidden talent, perhaps…"
From the back of the van, Hermione gave Harry a, "See what I mean?" look.
"It's a 'fair cop', Mrs. Smith." Harry held up his hand, producing a deck of cards and spreading them out like a Japanese fan. "We planned to kidnap the girl and sell her into prestidigitation." A second fan of cards appeared in his other hand.
Mrs. Smith's eyes narrowed. Clearly she was not amused. Harry merged the two decks into one, passed his hand over the combined deck and it disappeared.
"You may find this all very amusing, Mr. Potter, but I do not! It seems that whenever you single out a child at one of your performances, strange things begin to happen. The girl in Esher for instance! Or the boy in Rottingdeans whose long lost father suddenly turns up out of nowhere!"
"Oh, how horrible!" Harry gasped.
"You know very well what I mean. It's not so much what happens, as the way it happens. Almost as if-"
"-by magic?
"You are already something of a minor celebrity hereabouts, Mr. Potter. I understand that the BBC is talking to you about hosting a children's television series, and that the American networks are interested as well. I wonder if you truly understand the effect you are having on your audiences. Have you never stopped to consider the powerful impact someone like you can have on impressionable young minds?"
"I'm not sure I follow you, Mrs. Smith," Harry said innocently. She turned and indicated a small group of children who were taking turns using, twigs, drinking straws and other handy objects as "magic wands" to "zap" each other.
"Wingardium Leviosa," a little girl yelled at the top of her lungs.
Harry could only grin sheepishly.
"Whether you realize it or not, you are having a decidedly un-Christian influence on these children!"
"Un-Christian?"
"Instead of putting their faith in the Almighty, they think their problems can be solved with the wave of a wand! You make them want to believe that magic and sorcery are real!"
"And was there never a time," he said, gently mimicking her Scottish accent, "when you were a lass back in Glasgow that wee Minerva McGonagall believed in magic?"
She raised an eyebrow. How did he know her maiden name?
"I was a child, Mr. Potter," she said in a slightly defensive tone, "As I grew older, I put away childish things."
"And do you never get the urge to take them out and play with them occasionally?" Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a yo-yo, which he bounced a couple of times then offered to Mrs. Smith to try. When she showed no interest, he put it back in his pocket. "Children are a lot smarter than you give them credit for, Mrs. Smith. I think they can tell the difference between fantasy and reality."
"It's not the fantasy part that worries me," she said cryptically.
"Mrs. Smith," Harry said, changing the subject, "I had a rather," he searched for the right word, "unpleasant childhood."
"Yes, I've met the Dursleys. Horrible people."
"Then is it really so hard to understand why I would want to help children in any way that I can?"
Mrs. Smith looked at him in deadly earnest.
"But are you really helping them, Mr. Potter?"
"'Oy! Potter! Mr. Magician!" The great bear of a man looked as if he could crush both of them with one hand, but Harry never flinched. "Where's my wife?"
"Mr. Higgins, I presume?" Harry maneuvered himself between Mr. Higgins and Mrs. Smith, who seemed somewhat taken aback by Harry's concern for her. "On her way to a women's shelter, with your daughter."
"Is that so? I suppose the little bitch told you I was a nasty old wife beater, eh?"
As if the black eye and the bruises didn't speak for themselves, Harry thought.
"Now see here, young man!" Mrs. Smith began scolding him.
"You stay out of this, Granny!" Higgins growled.
"No, Mr. Higgins." Harry deliberately raised his voice to distract Higgins's attention. "You're wife didn't betray you."
"Some dirty little squealer in the neighborhood ratted me out, then? Was it you, old woman?" Again, he looked right at Mrs. Smith. He seemed determined to attach at least some of the blame for his troubles to her.
"I have my own sources, Mr. Higgins," Harry shrugged, "The neighbor's cat, the budgie across the street, the badgers that live in your back garden…"
"So, you've been chattin' up the badgers then, 'ave you?"
"Enthralling conversationalists, Mr. Higgins. It's really a shame so few people speak the language."
"Well, the next time you and Mr. Badger get together for tea, you can tell 'im to mind 'is own business if he doesn't want a fist through 'is teeth-and that goes for 'is snoopin' friends as well!" Once again, Higgins seemed ready to take his anger out on Mrs. Smith. Harry put his arm around Mr. Higgins and steered him away from her. Mrs. Smith looked over at Hermione, who was watching the two men carefully.
"I wonder if we should fetch someone-the other fathers?" Mrs. Smith was clearly frightened for Harry's safety. "I know this man. He has a horrible temper."
"Harry knows what he's doing." Hermione tried to sound calm. All the same, she reached into the pocket of her jumper. Her fingers tightened around the handle of her wand.
In principle, Harry and Hermione both agreed it best to avoid using too much "real" magic in front of Muggles for fear of giving away their secret, even if it meant standing by and allowing something unpleasant to happen. In practice, Harry knew that if Mr. Higgins had laid so much as a finger on him, Hermione would have gladly turned him into a toad right in front of Mrs. Smith and the entire neighborhood.
Hermione and Mrs. Smith couldn't hear what Harry and Mr. Higgins were saying, which did nothing to assuage their fears. After a moment, the two men turned around. Harry seemed to be chatting pleasantly. Mr. Higgins seemed docile enough-in fact, he looked a little bit dazed. Almost as if on cue, a taxi drove up and stopped right in front of them. Harry maneuvered Mr. Higgins into the cab, had a quick word with the driver and then sent it on its way.
Mrs. Smith's mouth hung open in astonishment. Hermione wasn't all that surprised, but did seem duly impressed.
"Mr. Higgins wanted me to tell everyone 'goodbye' for him." Harry said.
"Where is he going?" The smug look on Harry's face made Mrs. Smith even more suspicious.
"Canada. Somewhere in the North Woods, I expect."
"The North Woods?" Hermione was doing her best to keep a straight face.
"It'll be difficult on his wife for a while, raising their little girl alone, but we both agreed that in the long run it was for the best. The man just wasn't cut out to be a father."
Mrs. Smith was almost quaking with outrage.
"There is something very wrong here, Mr. Potter! I don't know what demons you are consorting with, but never doubt that this will all end in eternal damnation, for you-" she was choking back her tears, "-and for that sweet innocent child of yours!" She turned and stumbled off. Harry started to go after her, but Hermione stopped him.
"It's no good, Harry," she sighed. "If she's anything like her counterpart in my universe, she's intelligent, insightful and very resourceful-and once she gets an idea into her head…" Hermione watched as Mrs. Smith recovered her composure and headed for her car. "We're going to have to be very careful not to underestimate her."
That evening, in their tiny but comfortable flat in Shepherd's Bush, Hermione was going over the list of children with latent magical abilities they had found since Harry had started performing.
"Checking to see who's naughty or nice?" Harry asked as he headed for the shower. "Are those the boys or the girls?"
"The girls. Why?"
Harry pulled a yellow highlight marker from the desk drawer and tossed it to her.
"What's this for?"
"Be sure and highlight the really naughty ones, so we can give the list to Junior when he gets older. The boy's got to start somewhere." Harry's train of thought was cut off when a pillow from the sofa struck him in the face.
A little while later, Harry heard a wail from Hermione that penetrated even the noise of the shower. Wrapping himself in a towel, he poked his head out the bathroom door. The normally fastidious Hermione was tearing through the sitting room like a cyclone, digging through books, papers and Harry's magical paraphernalia.
"What's the matter?"
"It's gone!" she moaned. "I can't find it anywhere!"
"What's gone?"
"My journal! The first notebook! Everything I learned at Hogwarts my first year!" In desperation she had even pulled up the sofa cushions. "I was doing some corrections on it while you were doing your shows today." As good as her memory was, there were still many gaps in her magical knowledge, which she slowly filled in as she gained real life experience teaching Harry and Ron, and they were able to put the theories into actual practice.
"Did you leave it out in the van?"
"No!" she said miserably, "I just looked there!"
"Now just calm down! We'll find it."
Harry got dressed and searched the van once more. They spent the rest of the evening telephoning the homes where Harry had performed that day. None of the homeowners had found a spiral notebook. Most of them were too exhausted from clearing up after their parties to care.
"I can rewrite the whole thing from memory," Hermione insisted, "But that isn't what worries me!" Suppose the person who found it has latent magical abilities? If they were to attempt some of those spells without proper supervision, Merlin only knows what kind of mischief they could do!"
Harry eventually calmed Hermione down. Mercifully they were able to forget their trouble for a while as they made love that night, but Harry and Hermione held onto each other just a little bit tighter than usual.
After nearly a week of retracing their steps, they finally resigned themselves to the idea that the notebook was gone for good. All they could do was pray that it didn't fall into the wrong hands.
*****
"'Ello, luvs! C'mon in!" Molly Weasley-Lupin beamed at Harry and Hermione from behind the counter of The Griffin's Door Natural Remedy Emporium and Tea Room. To Harry, the place always seemed to be suffering from an extreme case of split personality. Parts of it looked like an ordinary little "greasy spoon" diner, complete with Coca-Cola ads on the wall menus and a bill-of-fare that included fish & chips, sausage rolls and bacon sandwiches. Against a far wall was a long wooden counter flanked by half a dozen barstools and topped off by an old fashioned soda fountain. The rest was an odd cornucopia of bric-a-brac straight out of a medieval apothecary. Behind the counter were shelves stacked with bottles and jars of all shapes and sizes, containing all manner of liquids and powders-and a few substances that were not readily identifiable-in every color of the rainbow. The only think brighter was the flaming red hair of Molly, who sat next to the antique cash register dealing herself a hand of tarot cards. She was dressed in a simple blue waitress uniform with a big white apron tied around her ample middle.
"That's it!" Hermione groaned as she waddled over to their favorite table by the window. "Tell them to stencil 'Goodyear' on me and get it over with! I'm now officially a blimp!"
"True." Harry kissed her hand. "But you're still the prettiest blimp I know."
"Don't you try and sweet talk me, Harry Potter," Hermione grumbled as she carefully lowered herself into a chair, "This is all your fault, you know."
"I don't seem to recall you complaining the night it happened," Harry grinned as he brought her hand up and rubbed it against his cheek. Hermione tried to keep her mad face on but there was something about that grin of his that always got to her. Grudgingly, she smiled back.
"We girls never do complain then, do we, dear?" Molly smirked. "If we only knew what we were lettin' ourselves in for! 'Course I'm a fine one to talk, eh?" Molly brought over a footstool and a pillow and placed them in front of Hermione's chair. "There you go, dear. You just put your feet up for a bit and we'll get you a nice hot cup o' tea. GINNY!"
For Hermione, just knowing that the Weasleys existed in this universe was heartening. The gregarious family of redheads, with their almost unconditional love and acceptance, had been a great source of strength and support while Harry and Hermione struggled to establish themselves.
Just like her counterpart, Molly had immediately appointed herself surrogate "mum" to the newlyweds. With her own mother gone, Hermione was grateful to have someone there to share the joys and anxieties of pregnancy-even if Molly did fuss over her even more than Harry. Still, what Molly Weasley-Lupin didn't know about having babies just wasn't worth knowing. And even though in this dimension she had no formal training, Molly had already taught herself enough magic to be very helpful filling in some of the gaps in Hermione's journals.
Things were quiet in the shop that afternoon, so Molly pulled up a chair next to Hermione and the two of them began comparing aches and pains and their most memorable bouts of morning sickness. Hermione knew her stories could never compete just because of the sheer number of offspring Molly had produced, but she seemed determined at least to keep pace.
Harry's eyes were beginning to glaze over when the shop bell rang.
"Mornin' dear!" Molly called
"Mornin' Molly," came a voice that always reminded Harry of Betty Boop. When the former Victoria Plotkin married Molly's youngest son, Ron, she joked that Victoria Weasley was at least a marginal improvement over her maiden name. Ron had first met the model/actress when she auditioned to replace Hermione as Harry's on-stage assistant. (Hermione never really felt comfortable in the spotlight and preferred to work behind the scenes.)
Victoria hung her hat and coat on a peg by the door. She sat down beside Harry and pulled a pack of cigarettes from her purse. "Finally managed to find one that Ron hasn't hexed!" She looked up at the disapproving stares she was getting. "Have a heart! I haven't had a fag for nearly two whole days!" she pleaded. Finding no sympathy forthcoming, she grudgingly tossed the pack back into her purse. "You win-but I could murder a cup of coffee, Molly!"
"GINNY!"
"Coming, Mum!"
"Where's your 'other half', then?" Harry asked.
"Fiddling with the car as usual. It broke down three times between here and Acton."
"I know 'ow much Ron loves that old MG," Molly sighed, "But don't you think it's about time to put the poor thing out to pasture?"
"Out of its misery, you mean!" She patted Harry's arm. "You've just got to get us that television series, Harry! It'd be ever so nice to have a car where you can use the radio and the heater at the same time!"
"We've been looking for a house," Hermione sighed. "I really don't want to raise a baby in that tiny little flat!" She looked over at Harry. "Especially not now," she said softly.
Harry put his arm around her and gave her a hug. "The head of Children's Programming seemed pretty impressed by our presentation. All we can do is cross our fingers and wait."
"You'll do fine, dear!" Molly assured him. "' Arry's a natural with kids, aren't you?" She patted Hermione's tummy. "This little one don't know 'ow lucky 'e is to 'ave you for a dad!"
"I trust you'll remind him of that when he's a teenager," Harry sighed.
"Once they turn thirteen, dearie, all bets are off!" Mollie craned her neck to call into the back room. "GINNY!"
"Keep your hair on, Mum! I've only got two hands!"
"See what I mean," she snorted, "Kids!"
Harry and Hermione both suppressed a smile at the word "kids". In order to survive in this strange new world, they had been forced to fudge their ages a little and pretend to be "adults" even though they weren't that much older than Ginny. (Hermione had conjured up the documentation they needed to get married.) Harry was quite proud of the way Hermione had met the challenge of "adult" responsibilities like paying rent, taxes, etc. even before his career had really begun to take off. If he achieved any success at all, it would be in no small part due to her steadfast support.
Young Ginny Weasley finally appeared from the back of the shop, wiping her hands on her big frilly apron. Her eyes lit up at the sight of the new customers.
"Hermione!" Ginny picked up a tray, loaded it with cups and biscuits and hurried over to their table. In the few months that they had known her, young Ginny had begun to blossom into a lovely young woman and was beginning to attract some attention among the local teenage males. She and Hermione had become fast friends, though Hermione suspected that Ginny shared the same not-so-secret crush on Harry that her counterpart had.
"I was so worried about you!" Harry and Hermione did their best to signal with their expressions for Ginny to keep quiet, but by the time she got the message, she'd already blurted out; "I heard all about the break-in-!"
"Break- in?" Molly's face went white as a sheet. "What break-in?"
"Somebody burglarized our flat last night," Harry confessed as if he had broken his mother's favorite vase.
"Nobody was hurt," Hermione tried to reassure her, "And they didn't take anything."
"Hermione was there all alone!"
Thank you, Ginny! Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. You're mum's already having a heart attack! Let's just give her a stroke as well!
"I was asleep in the next room," Hermione told them, "I didn't even know they'd been there until the next morning." Harry and Hermione hoped they didn't look as guilty as they felt for lying to their friends. The truth was that Hermione woke up just in time to see the three miscreants leave. She had managed to catch a glimpse of one of them as they were climbing out the window-and had seen a face she thought she would never see again. Harry could feel Hermione trembling just a little even now as she remembered crouching in the darkness, wishing they still had Harry's invisibility cloak, and praying that no harm would come to their baby. She was searching for her wand to hex the intruders when the pains began.
"She almost went into labor!"
"It was false labor, Ginny. They're called Braxton-Hicks contractions."
Harry shook his head. Leave it to Hermione to know the technical term.
"Oooh!" Molly grabbed her belly in sympathy. "I 'ad those with Bill-and Charlie-and the twins-and Ginny…"
As Molly launched into another of her pregnancy horror stories, Victoria motioned to Harry.
"Hermione's obviously okay," she said softly. "How about you?"
"The usual self-recriminations," Harry shrugged. "'I should have been there.' 'I shouldn't have left her alone.'"
She patted his hand.
"You had to go, Harry. You couldn't afford to turn that job down."
"It's the whole 'cave man' thing. The male is supposed to keep the wild animals out."
A thought suddenly struck Victoria.
"You said the villains didn't take anything?"
"No…There was the TV, VCR, the DVD player-all there for the taking! They weren't 'top of the line' or anything, but a junkie could've gotten a few pounds if he'd fenced them." Harry looked around. Hermione and Molly were too wrapped up in their own conversation to pay attention. "The way they tore the place up, it was like they were looking for something…"
The shop bell rang again and in stepped three young men about Harry and Hermione's age. All three were dressed in very tasteful dress shirts, ties and slacks, though the heavy-set one with the bowl haircut and the one with the short, bristly hair and dull, deep-set eyes looked as though they'd been shoehorned into theirs. The lean one with the pointed face, cold gray eyes and the buzz cut white blonde hair wore his fairly well. Judging by his lordly demeanor toward the other two, he was the leader of the trio.
Harry couldn't put his finger on exactly why-Maybe it was his smug expression that said, "I'm better than all of you, why don't you just admit it?"-but for some reason Harry took an instant dislike to the fellow.
Harry felt Hermione's grip tighten on his arm. In fact it was so tight that Harry was beginning to lose the feeling in his hand. She was clearly upset about something but kept quiet.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Lupin?"
Ginny heaved a romantic sigh.
"Hello Draco…"
The young man looked over at her. Perhaps it was Harry's imagination, but the young man's smile almost seemed to say, "Of course you adore me, you ignorant peasant! What choice do you have?"
Molly's normally jovial smile faded slightly.
"'Ello, Dennis."
"Mother!" Ginny protested. "His name is Draco!"
"Oh! Well, it was Dennis when I picked 'im up and smacked 'is little bottom the day 'e was born! But I was just the midwife! What do I know? How is your Mum, by the way, Dennis?"
"She's fine." Judging by his expression, Dennis clearly felt that he was wasting his time with this riff-raff. "May I put one of our fliers up in your window, Mrs. Lupin? The church is having a Revival this weekend."
"Please yourself," Molly shrugged.
He handed the flier to Ginny, who dutifully taped it to the shop window.
Harry practically had to pry Hermione's hands off his forearm. He thought for a minute that her nails were going to draw blood.
"That's my wand-arm you know!" he whispered. "What's wrong?"
She looked to make sure Ginny and Molly were out of earshot, then motioned for Harry and Victoria to move in closer.
"He was the one I saw last night!"
"But I thought you said-?"
Hermione motioned for them to be quiet.
"I hope we'll see you there, Ginny." Dennis said, turning on the charm. "And the rest of you, of course!" he added quickly. "Everyone is welcome."
His eyes met Hermione's for one terrifying moment. Did he know that she had seen him? She tried to remain stoic but she was convinced that he could sense her fear. He turned away and bowed to Molly.
"May the Lord bless and keep you, Mrs. Lupin."
"I'm sure 'e will, Dennis." Once the door closed, Molly snorted disdainfully. "Revival meeting, my Aunt Fanny! A couple of months ago 'im and 'is skin 'ead mates was paradin' around in leather jackets with swastikas tattooed all over 'em!"
I'll believe a leopard can change 'is stripes before I believe Dennis Malfoy's found religion!" A customer got up to pay his bill so Molly headed for the cash register.
"People can change, Mother!" Ginny insisted. "I've heard a lot of good things about that church! They say the new pastor there is to die for!"
"Is that the church on the corner?" The customer asked as he pulled out his wallet. "'Amazing Grace' or something like that? Word down the pub is that their preacher can do miracles. He predicted that business of the Italians shooting down the American helicopter by mistake. He found that little girl that had gone missing in Sussex. Even cured Mrs. Axleby's arthritis, they say!"
"She wouldn't 'ave any if she'd taken the Peruvian Cat's Claw Bark I gave 'er!" Molly grumbled.
The customer thanked Molly for the meal and left.
"You're positive Malfoy is the one you saw?" Harry whispered.
"Believe me, you don't forget a face like that!" Hermione wasn't sure if she should mention that she knew Malfoy and his buddies from before- and that back at Hogwarts, he had been Harry's second-worst enemy. No sense upsetting Harry any more than he already was. "And I'll bet you anything his two henchmen were our other two late night visitors."
"If Mr. Malfoy has found religion," Harry mused, "Breaking and Entering is a strange way of expressing it…"
The matter was duly reported to the authorities, but to everyone's surprise, the prime suspects had an alibi for the night in question-the Pastor of their church.
"I didn't get to talk to him," Harry shrugged, "but he told the police that Malfoy and his two buddies were with him the entire evening,"
Apparently, that was good enough for the police and the matter was dropped.
It was not good enough for Hermione, but the next few weeks would keep her far too busy to do anything about it.
*****
"…and just remember," Harry reminded his television audience as he brought the program to a close, "that the most powerful magic in the whole world…" His eyes met Hermione's and they shared a secret smile, "…is love." Harry extended his arms and bowed as the studio audience went wild.
Harry had managed to deal with the last few remaining autograph seekers when Mr. Nibbler® The Magic Rabbit poked his fuzzy pink nose out from behind the curtains.
"I'll get you for this, Potter!" came Ron Weasley's voice from inside the costume. "Any 'rug rats' about?"
"The coast is clear."
Ron removed his great white furry head. "I think this getup's giving me a rash!" he said as he scratched himself. "And you don't want to know what the inside of this head smells like!"
"You could always quit and open that wizard's pub like you keep threatening to do."
"What?" Ron said with a self-mocking grin. "And give up show business?"
Hermione watched from the wings as the two best friends exchanged wisecracks. Even though Harry had no memory of Ron from before, as she had, the two had taken to each other almost immediately. Apocalyptic wars and parallel universes notwithstanding, it seemed as if The Fates had decreed that Harry, Hermione and Ron would forever remain "The Three Musketeers".
"At least you didn't have to play Auntie Oxidant ® this week," Harry shrugged.
"Her knickers would've been a lot more comfortable than this bloody rabbit skin!"
"I can see the headlines in the Sun now," Harry grinned, "CHILDREN'S SHOW ACTOR EXPRESSES PREFERENCE FOR WOMEN'S KNICKERS! Does your wife know about this peculiar predilection of yours?"
"Of course!" Victoria called as she walked out onto the stage still dressed as Princess Pandora® of the Mysterious East. "Luckily we're both a perfect size six."
Victoria's television character had been brought in shortly after the producers learned that Hermione was pregnant. Since this was a children's show, the BBC didn't want to have to explain to the little ones-and more importantly, to their parents-how Hermione's character, Ms. Information®, suddenly found herself with "a bun in the oven."
"She and Harry Potter® could always get married on the show and start raising little wizards," Victoria had suggested.
"You're missing a golden opportunity," Ron told them. "This show is supposed to be educational! Show 'em the real story! Ms. Information® goes to a party, has a little too much to drink, wakes up next to a total stranger-!"
"And they say romance is dead." Harry sighed.
"Sorry, luvs." The show's liaison with the BBC, Mr. Humphries, sounded even more effeminate than usual. "I'm afraid children's show characters just don't do that sort of thing-at least not on BBC. Fun as it might be for us grownups, the little tykes don't really need to know what Harry Potter® gets up to between the sheets."
"Poor dear," Hermione said, giving Harry a hug.
"Stuck at the 'self-service counter' again, eh Harry?" quipped Victoria.
*****
"Harry! I'd like you meet someone!" Mr. Humphries was escorting a small entourage on a tour of the studio. Harry noticed that among the guests were Dennis Malfoy and his two cohorts. Hermione noticed as well, but her attention was drawn to the man in the business suit chatting with Mr. Humphries
"Oh no!" she groaned. "Not him!"
"Harry, I'd like you to meet Reverend Gilderoy Lockhart."
"Mr. Potter! You have no idea what an honor it is to finally meet you and your charming wife!" He extended his hand and flashed a toothy grin that reminded Harry a little bit of the actor Hugh Grant-or maybe it was Kenneth Brannaugh. He was dressed in a flawlessly tailored brown suit and tie and a gold shirt. Judging by the patent leather shoes, the solid gold cufflinks and the diamond stickpin holding his tie, the good Reverend wasn't exactly laying up his treasures in Heaven.
"Reverend Lockhart has made quite a name for himself," Humphries told them. "In fact, the BBC is giving him his own series. He'll be using studio E next door."
"We've been hearing quite a bit about you, Reverend." As with Malfoy, there was something about Reverend Lockhart that Harry immediately disliked. "Healing, predicting the future-"
"I am merely God's instrument," the Reverend said with little or no real humility.
"I hear his act's almost as good as yours, Harry!" Ron's eyes never left Malfoy. "I didn't know he was an animal trainer as well."
There was an uncomfortable silence as Ron and Malfoy glared at each other.
"I don't understand," Lockhart looked back and forth between Draco and Ron, "Is there a problem?"
"Nothing really, Reverend," Draco said calmly, "It's about that little misunderstanding with the police a while back."
"Potter!" Lockhart slapped his forehead. "Of course! I don't know why I didn't put it together before! You were the couple who thought Draco had broken into their flat!" Lockhart pulled Harry and Hermione aside while Ron and Malfoy stared daggers at each other. "Look here, I was so sorry I couldn't be of more help with your little problem, but I had to tell the police what I knew."
"Of course, Reverend," said Hermione suspiciously, "but the man I saw certainly looked a lot like your Dennis."
"Precisely," Lockhart said in his smarmiest, most patronizing manner. "It was someone who looked like him! But since he, Vincent and Gregory were all with me the entire evening, obviously they couldn't have done it."
"Obviously." Hermione squeezed Harry's hand tighter, fighting the urge to knee the good Reverend in the groin.
"I can only imagine what it was like having the sanctity of one's home violated like that! It must have been a horrible experience!"
"Now that our series is a success, we'll be moving soon," Harry said as much to Hermione as Lockhart.
"That's the ticket!" Lockhart slapped them both on the back. "Nice little house in the country, eh? Plenty of room to raise a family!"
How did he know that, Harry and Hermione both wondered?
"Look, I know how easy it is to be distrustful of Draco, Mrs. Potter. To be fair, he has done some very foolish things in the past, but you must believe he really is a very different person now that he's come to know the Lord. I depend on him for everything. You might say he's my right hand."
"I guess that's why he didn't get fingered." Hermione quipped.
Lockhart chuckled politely and quickly changed the subject.
"Look here, Harry, I know we've only just met and I'm being terribly presumptuous, but you've done a lot of work for charities and that sort of thing-I don't suppose you could see your way clear to perform at our church sometime?"
"Well, I'd have to talk it over with my Business Manager…" He nodded toward Hermione.
"Of course we'll do it, Reverend." Hermione declared. She reached into her purse and handed Lockhart a Harry Potter® business card. "Give me a call in the morning and we'll set up the details."
Harry was dumbfounded but kept quiet.
"That's splendid, Mrs. Potter! Splendid! The congregation will be thrilled!"
Mr. Humphries took charge of the tour once more and led them into the adjacent studio.
*****
"A minister is lying to cover up a burglary?"
Victoria began applying cold cream to her face to remove her make up. Hermione was trying to plead her case to the others who had gathered in Victoria's dressing room.
"I know what I saw!" Hermione took a deep breath. She had no choice but to tell them everything. "You don't understand…I knew them-Malfoy and Lockhart-from before."
Ron let out an exasperated sigh.
"More fugitives from 'Dimension X'?"
"Darling," Harry said, choosing his words carefully, "Are you sure you're not letting your memories from 'before' affect your judgment? Remember that fellow we spent so much time tracking down-you said he was a classmate of ours at Hogwarts? What was his name? 'Longfellow'-?"
"Neville Longbottom."
"Overweight, clumsy, couldn't do anything right-and yet here he turns out to be a body builder! People in this dimension have had completely different experiences-led totally different lives."
Hermione was not going to concede anything.
"Not everybody, Harry! You were exactly the same-and thank Heaven you were! And body builder or not, Neville Longbottom was still basically decent person in both universes! Now you heard Molly! Malfoy is just a big a prick here as he was back at Hogwarts-and I'm betting, so is Lockhart! Why doesn't anyone believe me?"
Harry took her hand and pressed it between his.
"If you remember, Darling, I was the first person who did believe you, when you first turned up on my uncle's doorstep back on Privet Drive!" Hermione suddenly felt ashamed. From the beginning Harry was the one person who had always believed her-and believed in her.
"That was an awful lot to swallow all at once, wasn't it?" She sighed, and resting her forehead against his, she gently kissed him.
"She is right about Malfoy, Harry." Ron got up and helped himself to a beer from the fridge. "Religious conversion or not, he's been a trouble maker for as long as I've known him. And even if my Mum doesn't know her leopards from her tigers, she's always been a good judge of people."
"Okay," Harry sighed, "You've obviously wanted an excuse to visit the church and now you've got one. So…? What's the plan?"
*****
Julie London was playing on the radio as the Potter's van pulled into their driveway.
You'd be so nice to come home to,
You'd be so nice by the fire,
While the breeze, on high, sang a lullaby,
You'd be all that I could desire.
Under stars, chilled by the winter,
Under an August moon, burning above,
You'd be so nice, you'd be paradise
To come home to and love.[1]
Hermione rested her sleepy head on Harry's shoulder as they stood on the stoop and Harry fished for his keys.
"Hermione?"
"Hmmm?"
"Did you forget to lock the door on your way out?"
Hermione opened her eyes. The door was open just a crack. They both pulled out their wands. Harry motioned for Hermione to stay behind him. Harry pushed open the door and crept inside. All seemed quiet.
"Hit the lights!" Harry whispered.
The flat looked as if a bomb had hit it. All the drawers and cabinets and shelves had been emptied, their contents strewn across the sitting room floor. The walls were now covered in red spray-painted graffiti with such choice messages as "BURN WITCH!", "SATAN'S HANDMAIDEN" and "DEUT. 18:10-12".
The police dutifully came to the flat, took down Harry's and Hermione's statements and took dozens of pictures. Hermione conveyed her suspicions about Dennis Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle, but Harry suspected that they would once again have an alibi-and he doubted if the police would have believed the whole story, anyway.
"But why pick on Hermione?" Harry shook his head in disbelief. Ron and Victoria had rushed over as soon as they heard what had happened. A gentle rain had begun to fall on Shepherd's Bush. The police cars were beginning to pull away and the crowd that had gathered in front of the building had begun to break up. "I'm the one with his face on TV. I've been doing my best to keep my family out of the spotlight!"
"You got me, pal…" Ron put his arm around his friend. "So what does 'Deut. 18 whatever' mean?"
"It's Deuteronomy," said a familiar voice with a Scottish accent. Minerva Smith pulled back the hood of her raincoat. She looked almost as miserable as Harry felt at that moment. "Chapter 18, Verses 10-22. 'There shall not be found among you any one that ... uses divination, or an observer of times, or an enchanter…"
"… or a witch," Harry stood up slowly, his fists clenched, his rage barely contained. His anger growing with each word, " …or a charmer, or a consulter with familiar spirits, or a wizard, or a necromancer," Harry's voice dropped to a frightening whisper, "… for all that do these things are an abomination unto the Lord.'"
"I guess that about covers it," Ron muttered to himself. He'd never seen such rage in his friend's eyes before. He edged himself over toward Mrs. Smith, fearful of what Harry might be capable of doing to the old woman in his current state.
"You must believe me, Mr. Potter, I never intended for anything like this to happen…"
"Intended-?" She tried to turn away but he grabbed her by the arm "What do you know, Mrs. Smith?"
"Not as much as I once thought I did, Harry." With surprising strength, the old woman broke loose from Harry's grip and ran away.
"Let her go, Harry." Ron said, grabbing his arm. "She's not the enemy."
"I know." Harry watched her disappear into the night. "I just wish I could convince her of that."
"You're wife needs you."
Hermione sat on the front steps, weeping as Victoria tried to comfort her. Harry knelt down beside her.
"It doesn't make any sense, Harry."
"I know." Harry took his wife gently into his arms and softly began to sing to her.
Nothing's gonna harm you,
not while I'm around.
Nothing's gonna harm you,
not while I'm around.
Demons 'll charm you with a smile
for a while,
but in time
nothing can harm you,
not while I'm around.[2]
End Of Chapter Two
[1] Music and Lyrics by Cole Porter
[2] Music and Lyrics by Stephen Sondheim