A New Beginning (DH -COMPLIANT)

Chapter 26 ~ Another Change in Circumstances


“No! It’s too soon. You can’t mean that, Harry! She hasn’t even gone through a proper mourning period. It would be like she’s cast Ron aside!” Molly Weasley yelled at Harry. “What do you think Ron would say if he knew Hermione was . . . was dating?”

Harry wanted to say that Ron wouldn’t say anything because he was dead, but he knew that would just set Molly off. Ginny looked from Harry to her mother silently. She had told him this wouldn’t be a good idea.

Harry looked at Mrs. Weasley and drew in a deep breath. He had to tell her about the Resurrection Stone.

”Mum, it’s Ron’s idea,” the wizard said to his angry mother-in-law.

”What? What are you talking about Harry?” Molly demanded.

Harry explained to Molly about the Resurrection Stone, and how he had given it to Hermione, leaving anything about Snape out of it. In order to do that, he had to pretend it had been in his possession since the death of Voldemort. The witch listened, her face paling.

”You . . . you have a stone that can bring back the dead, Harry?” Molly said in a low voice, sitting down at the table now and staring at her son-in-law. “You have a stone that can bring back Fred and Ron and you never told me?”

Ginny dropped her head. She knew her mother was going to immediately think about Fred. She had never stopped mourning him.

“It didn’t really bring people back to life, mum. Only brought their spirits back so you can talk to them,” he said to her.

”Still . . . still I could see Fred and Ron again. They could be here with us again . . . even in spirit form,” the witch said longingly.

Harry shook his head.

“The dead are happy being dead, mum. Fred and Ron wouldn’t want to stay here,” he said to her softly.

”Of course they would want to be with their family that loves them!” Molly snapped, “I can’t believe you were so selfish to keep something like this from me … from us! And think about Remus, Tonks . . . even Dumbledore!”

“Mum, they don’t come back in the body. They are better off where they are, now stop it!” Ginny said to her mother, her eyes filled with tears as Molly rattled off the names of the dead. “They are gone. Let them rest!”

”Where is the stone, Harry? Go get it!” Molly demanded, her brown eyes flashing.

”I’ve gotten rid of it. It’s where no one can reach it, mum. It’s too dangerous. Too tempting. The dead could be made prisoners here if it fell into the wrong hands,” Harry said to her evenly.

“Gotten rid of it? Where?” Molly cried, her eyes getting a bit wild, “You know where you put it. You can go get it! I want to see my Fred! I want to see my Ron!”

Harry now realized Ginny had been right when she said she thought they shouldn’t tell Molly. The witch was the kind of person who would selfishly trap the spirits of her loved ones here on earth just to be close to them. He hadn’t meant this to happen. He just wanted to let her know Ron wanted Hermione to move on and find love.

“You can’t mum. It’s gone, believe me,” Harry said, feeling horrible as tears streamed down Molly’s face.

She stared at him, her face suddenly contorting.

”I can’t believe you had the means of bringing people back all this time and never let anyone know. You are a cruel, selfish wizard, Harry Potter, just plain cruel and selfish!” Molly hissed at him, rising and exiting the house, the sound of apparition closely following.

Harry looked at Ginny.

“I should have listened to you,” he said softly.

“Mum can’t seem to let anyone go, Harry. She still cries about Fred and Ron as if they just passed yesterday. It’s just the way she is. She didn’t get closure at their deaths, and if she could bring them back, she’d be just like the brother in the story who kept his love with him, despite how miserable she was. She’ll come around after a while,” Ginny said softly, placing her hand on that of her husband’s.

“I hope so,” Harry replied, his green eyes sad.

**********************************

Hermione and Snape spent their week involved in their usual pursuits, not seeing each other at all, although Hermione sent Severus a container of chicken stew for lunch via Eli on Wednesday, think the wizard might enjoy it. He might have if Eli had actually delivered it, which he didn’t.

”This is for your master,” Hermione said to the elf, handing Eli the container.

Frowning, Eli winked out and returned to the house, promptly dumping the entire container into the trash bin.

”She says it is for the master, but not to delivers it,” the elf muttered, fixing Snape his usual sandwich and pumpkin juice.

That Friday when Snape came to visit, Hermione asked him if he enjoyed the stew she’d sent.

”Stew? What stew?” the wizard inquired as he removed his cloak and handed it to Hermione.

“I sent you a container of chicken stew for lunch on Wednesday,” the witch said, “You seemed to like it so much last week and I had made a bit for my dinner Tuesday night. You didn’t get it?”

Snape scowled.

“No, I didn’t,” the wizard said, then “Eli?”

The elf winked in and bowed.

“Yes master?” the elf responded.

“What happened to the chicken stew Mrs. Weasley sent over to me on Wednesday?” the Potions master asked the elf, whose ears flattened. He’d been caught.

”Eli always fixes the master’s lunch,” the elf said sullenly, “Is my service.”

Snape’s eyebrows lifted before he frowned at the elf.

”Eli, I happen to enjoy Mrs. Weasley’s stew. From now on if she sends something to me, I expect you to deliver it. You don’t have a monopoly on what I eat,” he said to the elf severely, “And no punishing yourself. Just deliver what you are given to deliver.”

”Yes sir,” Eli said, giving Hermione a dirty look before winking out.

”He’s certainly territorial,” Hermione said to Snape, who nodded.

”He was my sole companion outside of Bartleby for a good many years. I imagine he feels a bit of jealousy toward you,” the wizard said, leveling his eyes on Hermione, who blushed slightly.

”He has no reason to be jealous. I’m not going to steal you away from him for goodness sakes,” the witch murmured.

Snape arched an eyebrow at her, then reached into his pocket and pulled out an issue of Potions Today, handing it to her.

“Look at the article on page forty-three,” he said to the witch, who opened the magazine, read the title and gasped.

“This is ridiculous! The study of Charms is just as much if not more challenging than that of Potions!” she exclaimed, not realizing Snape had chosen that article to encourage the continuance of last week’s argument.

”The author makes several good points,” he said, pissing the witch off even more as her nostrils flared. She dropped down into an armchair and angrily read the article, mentally building up her arguments.

The Potions master swore he could see her swell.

Snape didn’t make it out of Hermione’s domain until one-thirty that night, lucky to get his magazine back in one piece. Hermione had flung it about roughly as she gesticulated and raged against the idiot statements made in the article.

“How could they even publish such an idiot? I have half a mind to write a rebuttal, though I doubt a Potions periodical would publish anything that challenged their one-sided and erroneous views!” she raged.

Snape thought Hermione was magnificent and let her curse and browbeat the author for more than half an hour before letting her target him as he agreed with several points made. Gods, she was a little spitfire, and passionate about her field. He thought she’d start a full-fledged war in defense of Charms if she had to. He could easily see her going to blows over it.

It was quite an enjoyable evening, though Hermione was worn out by the end of it. The Professor left with a small smile on his face. Tomorrow she was going with him to his greenhouse, again to work. He looked forward to it.

*********************************

On Sunday, Hermione went to the Burrow and found a very agitated Molly Weasley waiting for her. Molly wasted no time.

“You spoke to Ron?” the witch asked her jealously.

Hermione looked at Molly wide-eyed, realizing Harry must have told her.

”Yes, I did,” the witch said carefully.

”Did you know Harry had a stone that could bring him back?” Molly demanded of her.

”No, I didn’t Molly,” she said.

”Why did he give you the stone and not me? I’d love to see my boys again,” Molly said miserably, “They could be with us always.”

Hermione stared at her mother-in-law.

”I think that’s why, Molly. The dead belong where they are. Not among the living. They have their own place to be and are content there. They have to be let go. Molly, be honest . . . if you had Fred and Ron here now, would you be able to let them go back?”

Molly blinked at Hermione with tears in her eyes.

”I just miss them so much, Hermione,” the witch said, beginning to sob.

”I know. I know you do. I miss Ron every day,” Hermione said softly.

Molly looked up at Hermione and wiped her eyes.

“Harry said Ron told you to start dating,” the matriarch said.

Hermione scowled.

“No. He didn’t say that. He said he wanted me to find love though. That he didn’t want me to spend the rest of my life alone,” the witch said.

“Now?” Molly asked her.

”No. Just if the opportunity presents itself,” Hermione said soothingly.

”It’s . . . it’s too soon, Hermione. Ron is barely cold yet,” Molly said, “It would be terrible of you to start going out with other wizards. You’re my son’s wife.”

Hermione nodded.

“I agree it’s too early, Molly, but you’ve got to recognize something for what it is. I’m no longer your son’s wife. I’m his widow,” Hermione said softly.

Molly looked at her then let out a sob as if her heart was breaking. Hermione slid closer and wrapped her arms around the witch’s quaking shoulders and held her, tears of her own sliding from her eyes.

***********************************

Rod returned to his room, Voldemort walking beside him. The young wizard discovered shortly after the first time his roommates appeared in his room, that they couldn’t see his friend. What had happened were the boys crept quietly up to the room and listened, hearing Rod talking then threw open the door. They saw Rod but not Voldemort sitting on the bed.

”Talking to yourself, Odd?” one of the boys asked him.

”Thinking out loud,” the young wizard replied, standing up and leaving the room as he always did when they appeared. Voldemort followed him.

His appearance was more like he was as Tom Riddle, the spirit realizing that appearing as he died might have a negative effect on Rod, who wasn’t as dark as the despot hoped, though very sympathetic to him, keeping him strong. Voldemort convinced him to keep him with him for much of the time, because when he wasn’t with Rod, he wandered through utter darkness. There was nothing for him on the other side. Nothing at all but his consciousness. It was worse than Hell. It was what he’d always imagined Death to be. Utter darkness and solitude.

He wandered the familiar ground with Rod and accompanied him to Ollivander’s wand shop where Rod met the proprietor. Mary Ellen Ollivander, who was indeed sympathetic to Rod’s situation. Rod chose a wand, or a wand chose him rather. It was made of birch, 11 and ½ inches long with a core of dragon heartstring. The reaction was quite strong. Rod was ecstatic, though it was another three weeks of hard work before he actually acquired it. Finally he brought it back to the school, hidden under his robes and quickly headed for his room. After making sure no one was about, he pulled it out.

Tom, who was sitting on the bed, watched Rod caress the wand lovingly.

”I can’t believe it. My own wand,” the boy breathed, then looked at Tom excitedly. “What should I do with it first?”

Tom eyed the wardrobe.

”Fix your robes. Transfigure them into something suitable to a Slytherin in good standing,” the spirit told him, lisping slightly despite his human appearance.

Tom looked doubtful.

”I was never good in Transfiguration,” he said slowly as he opened the door and looked at the threadbare robes hanging there.

“You have your own wand now, and you still managed to do some small changes with that old one. You have excellent concentration. You have to. Now try it,” Tom urged.

Rod pointed his wand at the first set of robes, imagining a set of decent black ones. He flicked his wand in the proper manner and felt power fly out of him. The robes became black and lush, the fabric repairing itself, silver and green buttons appearing down the front. They were beautiful.

”Wow!” Rod said, pulling them out and swinging them back and forth, holding them against his body, “These are great!”

”Yessss,” Tom agreed, his eyes glittering. They still had a bit of reddish cast to them. “Now do the rest of your robes, your shirts, ties and especially your shoes. But keep one set of ragged robes for this weekend. Let them see your new look come Monday.”

”Yeah,” Rod said, imagining how startled everyone would be to see him dressed nicely.

Monday morning at breakfast, Rod made quite an entrance in his new robes and bright shoes. His hair was neatly combed and his face looked a bit clearer. He felt a bit out of sorts however with the way everyone was looking at him as he took up his usual seat at the very end of the Slytherin table away from everyone else. Self-consciously he began to draw the food toward him. He didn’t have Tom with him, though the spirit protested. He had wanted to see the reaction of everyone, but Rod felt he’d be under enough stress.

“Where’d you steal the robes, Odd,” one Slytherin sneered at him.

”I didn’t steal them. I transfigured them,” the wizard replied. His housemates looked at him disbelievingly.

”You suck at transfiguration. Anything you do doesn’t last more than five seconds,” one girl said, frowning at him.

”Maybe I’ve gotten better at it,” Rod replied.

He didn’t tell them he had a new wand. They’d see soon enough.

And they did that afternoon in the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Professor Artemis Flubbergone was the teacher for the past five years. The gray-haired, steely eyed wizard announced that there would be dueling practice and for everyone to pair off. As usual, Rod was left without a partner. He wasn’t very challenging after all. Any spell he cast felt like a mere push, and anyone could blast him off his feet, despite him being very fast at blocking.

“I guess it’s you and me as usual, Mr. Dormers,” Professor Flubbergone said with a sigh. “Today we are practicing “Expelliarmus.”

”Er, Professor, I need to let you know…” Rod began.

Flubbergone waved a hand at him.

”I already am aware of how deplorable your wand work is, Mr. Dormers. That will not excuse you from making the attempt. No protesting,” the wizard said sharply.

”But . . . but I,” Rod pressed.

”Five points from Slytherin, Mr. Dormers,” Flubbergone hissed, taking up a position across from the wizard, his arms down at his sides, “If you keep protesting you will lose another ten points.”

”Shut up, Dormers,” several of his housemates hissed at him angrily.

“Fine,” Rod said.

Professor Flubbergone wore a bored expression on his face. He didn’t even put his wand hand up in a defensive position, he was so used to Rod’s spells feeling little more like a passing breeze.

“When you’re ready, Mr. Dormers, do the spell,” he said tiredly.

Rod looked at the teacher a bit apprehensively. Tom was with him now, a broad smile on the spirit’s face. This was going to be quite good.

”The spell, Mr. Dormers,” the Professor insisted.

Rod sighed and concentrated.

”Expelliarmus!” he cried, throwing the spell.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was blown back through several desks and chairs and ended up wedged between some shelving at the back of the class, His upper body flopped between his lower legs, completely unconscious as Rod stared at him.

The class fell silent.

”Oh my gods, Rod, you’ve killed him!” one of the students cried as they all ran toward the teacher. One of the students cast an Ennervate spell and brought him around. They helped the dazed wizard out of his predicament, and he half walked half staggered toward Rod, who looked at him with wide eyes.

“I tried to tell you sir, that I got a new wand,” the young wizard said apologetically, showing it to him.

The other students stared at the wand, then at Rod, their eyes round as they looked at him. He was very powerful. No one realized that all those years working with an inferior wand and having to focus with all his might to make anything happen at all had strengthened the wizard. Any spell he cast with a proper wand had very, very powerful intent behind it as a result of all that focus.

Professor Flubbergone straightened his robes and looked at Rod, his eyes glinting.

”Very well, Mr. Dormers. Now it is your turn to block my spell,” he said as the students cleared away. No one was working with a partner now, all eyes on Rod and the teacher.

“Reducto!” the DADA teacher cried as the students gasped. The Reducto spell was very dangerous to use on another living person. No doubt Professor Flubbergone wanted to make Rod pay for making him look so bad in front of his students.

Rod blocked the spell with such power that everyone hit the floor as it ricocheted away from him, sparks of power flying. Even Flubbergone ducked, then rose quickly and cast another hex at him, which Rod also blocked. Then another and another, the spells becoming stronger and stronger as the class turned over desks and hid behind them as Rod blocked hex after hex, his confidence growing until finally Flubbergone was hit with a rebounding spell and petrified in place.

Rod lowered his wand and stared at the stiff teacher.

Slowly his classmates eased out from behind the overturned desks and walked up to the Professor, studying him before turning to Rod, every one of them silent and staring. Some of the eyes were a bit fearful.

Tom eased up to the young wizard and whispered into his ear, an evil grin on his face.

”You see that look, Rod? That, my friend is what you've always longed for. That, my friend . . . is respect,” the wizard purred.

*********************************
A/N: Thanks for reading.