It\'s All Done With Mirrors

Chapter Four
Anon, of course.


The Kitchen, Chez Nous, August 2010

My robes had got pretty dusty in Diagon Alley. I decided to clean them along with Ron\'s sweaty clothes. As usual, Ron had all sorts of junk in his pockets - a few Sickles and Knuts, articles clipped from the Daily Prophet, the usual sweets (Every Flavour Beans being the favourite, but I often spotted a Muggle Snickers wrapper in amongst the scraps of parchment). Dumping it all, inexplicable fluff balls included, on the kitchen table, I made a perfunctory check through the pockets of my own robes.

Usually I find nothing, as all my junk ends up in my satchel. However, as I checked the last pocket my hand closed over a cylindrical object.

\"What\'s this?\" I muttered, completely puzzled.

It was a small scroll of parchment, sealed anonymously with purple wax. A little frightened, I cracked the seal with my thuml anl and cautiously opened it. You should never do anything like this - an anonymous parchment could contain anything from a mild itching hex to a death threat. And I really should have known better, because I\'ve received more than my fair share of nasty letters - \"Those were always sealed with green wax, though,\" I mumbled to myself.

But this was just a letter. Sort of.

\"Dear Hermione,

\"If you do not wish to apply for the position of Potions apprentice, perhaps you could pass the enclosed application form on to Carol Jones.

\"Yours,

\"Anon, of course.\"


My blood ran cold, and felt suddenly too thick to pass through my veins. I reeled from the shock. Who knew about Carol Jones? Besides me, and a Muggle in Wiltshire?

And what application form? Suddenly, another line of script magically added itself to the writing already on the parchment:


\"PS - I\'d say it would be in your best interests to examine the back of this parchment.\"


I turned the parchment slowly over, and the official Hogwarts letterhead mialiialised, followed by line after line of neat black calligraphy. Confused, I turned the parchment back, but the original message was gone. I stared at the blank expanse dumbly for a couple of seconds. And then I watched as seven more words formed on the parchment:


\"Well? What are you waiting for, Granger?\"


Weird. \'And that\'s Mrs. Weasley to you, whoever you are\' I thought tetchily. When I turned the roll over yet again, the Hogwarts application form was still there. Turned it back, black space again.

\'Lots to think about tonight,\' I decided, as my weary bones began to ache with tiredness. As usual, I sifted through the pile of fluff and bits of parchment and sweets on the kitchen table, my last duty before making the dinner. I discarded the Every Flavour Beans, as they were a little battered-looking. Balls of fluff (Why? Where do they come from?) were disposed of also. I placed all the parchment scraps in a neat heap, and it was in doing this that I discovered the photograph.

\'Another one, eh, Ron.\' With a sigh, I picked it up to place it on the pile of scrap parchments, but a movement in the image caught my eye.

She was blonde, as usual. When I picked it up, the woman started to blow a kiss, but then her eyes narrowed. I examined the face, recognised the piggy nose, the sarcastic mouth.

\'Oh, Ron. That\'s disgusting. How could you?\' I thought, my hand flying to my mouth.

It was Pansy Malfoy, nee Parkinson.

I slapped the photo down in the middle of the table, and feeling filthy, headed - yet again - for the bathroom.


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A Ford Escort, Muggle Wiltshire, July 1998

In the back seat of the car, the girl slept, her mouth open, snoring slightly. The woman who had picked her up had intended merely to scold the girl for hitch hiking, and then drive away. But just one look in the pain-filled eyes had given her pause. She\'d looked totally exhausted.

Her leather satchel had little inside it, just a couple of pairs of clean panties and socks, plus an unlabeled, wrapped parcel of some kind. No money. No Identification. Curious. She\'s too old to be a runaway from school, although the satchel reminded the woman of the sort of thing she\'d used to take to school herself.

\'By and by, we will find out. Or we won\'t,\' thought Emily Pewsey, as she pulled the car into a passing place to wait while a herd of Friesian cattle took their time wandering along.


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The Bathroom, Chez Nous, August 2010

I took up my quill, and I pushed the nib into the inkwell. The oft-repeated action calmed me, and as I sat on the edge of the bath, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. I looked - different.

~ Calmer. More focused. More open, ~ approved the sumptuous voice.

\'That is as maybe,\' I sniffed, turning my attentions back to the matter in hand. I wrote my name in purple ink in the space provided. I did feel calmer. My husband was having an affair with Pansy Malfoy, and yet I felt more inclined to ignore that fact for the present, and instead began to fill in the spaces allotted for Qualifications with my neat, looping script.

NEWT: Transfiguration 310%, Arithmancy 394%, Charms 312%, DADA 296%, and Potions...

I smiled proudly. 402%. The best Potions grade in Hogwarts history, bar one.

My eyes pricked with emotion, and I was sure I could see - although it must have been my teary vision playing tricks - the shape of...someone...standing behind me. Reflected in the mirror.


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Front Hallway, Chez Nous, August 2010

I decided not to send the parchment via Pig, who invariably collapses at least twice en route. It was only 6 o\'clock, but Ron was already fast asleep on the sofa, having decided to watch muggle television instead of reading the paper. He must have exhausted himself trying to find the Daily Prophet, and I was not surprised he hadn\'t asked me to cast a simple locator charm. Ron didn\'t like to see me using my wand.

~ He\'s an arsehole ~ spat the voice in my head. That made me giggle, and I paused by the hallway mirror, adjusting my Witch\'s hat to a jaunty angle. A truer word was never spoke, oh silky one.

\'Anyway, I can now go out - \'

~ Sneak ~ T ~ The velvet tones interrupting my train of thought sounded almost approving.

\'I shall sneak out to the Leaky Cauldron and ask Tom to owl or Floo the application to Hogwarts.\' Adopting my bravest smile, I practised it in the glass before tugging my woollen robes around me and opening the door as quietly as possible.

It was a pleasant late Summer\'s evening outside and the breeze cooled my exposed skin deliciously. Deciding to cut through to Diagon Alley via the park, whose wrought iron gates directly faced our shabby Victorian town house, I walked along the flowerbeds, drinking in the scent of them. A beautiful crescent moon shone in the air, the tall and spindly trees silhouetted against the sky. As I walked, experiencing the delight of moonlight on my face, a white shape on the manicured lawn caught my eye.

Hedwig. Good Gods.

I whispered her name, and ran to her. \'Why didn\'t she come to the house?\' I wondered, bending down. She had a note attached to her leg, and as I detached it a small key ring, with a trinket shaped like a thistle, falls into my hand. I put it in my pocket, and then opened the parchment roll and, with a pleased smile attempted to read the untidy (and in some places totally illegible) scrawl of the Boy Who Lived:

\"Dearest Hermione,

\"I know I have not written for a long time, [unintelligible] finds you well.\"


\'One of these days,\' I decided, \'I am going to send Harry on a handwriting course.\'


\"I have something [unintelligible] and I really don\'t know how to put this, but you do need to know, so I will just come right out and say it. [unintelligible] Malfoy is out to get Ron. You\'re both in terrible danger.

\"Please owl me back to let me know if [unintelligible] and can we do anything [unintelligible] to come and stay? Ginny is expecting Potter number 4, any day now, but we\'ve more than enough room. If you feel you need it, please hold this portkey and say \'Harry\'s Home\'.

\"Love, Harry.\"


As I folded the letter, there was a deafening noise behind me, and a deathly cold penetrated my entire body. I dared not look. I could sense what had just happened, and it filled me with equal parts of rage and sorrow.

\"Oh, Ron. You absolute idiot. What did you think you were doing?\" I whimpered.

Slowly, I forced myself to turn around and watch my house as it burst into flames and then disintegrated. Green light shimmered in the night sky for a second, and then it was gone, leaving a calligraphic letter M, green against black, plainly visible on that moonlit night.

It was the Malfoy insignia. Draco.

It was not safe to stand there and cry. As if in a dream, I placed my wand and the rolls of parchment into my pockets. My fingers touched the silver thistle, and curled around it. My voice trembled, but I managed to stammer:

\"H- Harry\'s Home\"


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Hogsmeade, July 1998

He ran as fast as he could, cursing. It had not taken him long to disarm his assailant, but the resulting explosion had both blocked the doorway and broken his wand. He was very late.

He pushed open the door of The Three Broomsticks, and stepped inside, eyes darting this way and that, trying to locate her. The warm and slightly damp atmosphere made his head spin, but he forced himself to concentrate. Where was she?

After ten minutes of searching the pub, both inside and out, he realised he wasn\'t just very late.

He was too late.


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En Route by Portkey, London, August 2010

Travelling by portkey always makes my belly button feel like it\'s being unravelled with a knitting needle. Not my favourite mode of transportation, really. Especially when travelling to a place I had never been to before. I arrived - where? - with aching legs and my vision blurred with both tears and magical peregrination, and leaned against a wall.

\"Hermione, darling!\" I felt a pair of soft hands slip into mine, and I dimly recognised the voice of Ginny Potter before the world seemed to skid sideways as I fell to the ground.


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Stanton Mill Farm, Wiltshire, July 1998

So the girl had a name, Carol Jones. Emily Pewsey regarded the young woman, who was eating porridge like it was going out of fashion.

\'Good,\' she thought. \'She\'s a funny-looking lass, all that hair and huge brown eyes. She reminds me of one of those mountain dogs. I wonder where she comes from? There are heavy secrets behind those eyes. She hasn\'t offered any further information about herself, but I am sure she will, in time. I\'ll just let her eat, and then...\' The sound of the spoon clattering against china halted Emily\'s train of thought.

Carol looked up from her empty bowl and whispered \"Thanks, Mrs. Pewsey\"

Emily chuckled, and poured Carol another cup of tea.


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Harry\'s Home, August 2010

I sat in an armchair, a big squashy, velvet-covered armchair that felt like heaven after my journey to Harry\'s home. I opened my eyes. Ginny knelt before me, holding out a green china mug.

I swallowed. The mug was pressed into my hands. Ginny smiled, but then the smile wobbled as she saw the pain in my eyes. My voice cracking, mouth dry, I told her what had happened and her mouth went all square and in an instant she was sobbing, loudly and uncontrollably. Strong arms wrapped themselves around her big belly, and I realised that Harry was here.

And from the look on his face, I saw that he knew Ron was dead. Oh, gods! I felt the mug drop out of my hand as I slid off the chair.

*

We all knelt together on the carpeted floor, Harry, Ginny and me, holding each other, receiving and offering comfort with one another. I don\'t know how long we stayed there, tears dripping onto our robes, but the moment was abruptly broken by a gushing sound and suddenly the carpet was soaking wet.

Ginny squawked, and clutched at her abdomen and then looked at Harry in alarm. We both helped her as she struggled to get up. The baby was ready to be born, and there would be time later for shared grief.


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Hogsmeade, July, 1998

\'I don\'t believe it,\' he thought bitterly. Appalling timing had never been a Slytherin trait.

Someone would pay for this. He thought of the punishments he could easily mete out - if it would ever be legal to do so - and smiled grimly.


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Harry\'s Home, August 2010

Harry was panicking, which I found surprising, since he should have been used to this procedure, really.

\"Stop that,\" I hissed at him. He blinked with surprise. \"Ginny needs you now.\" He nodded, and relieved, I turned to Ginny, who was calmly instructing Winky to bring hot water and towels.

\"Ginny, darling, what can I do?\" She looked...amazing. Powerful. Scary.

\"Hermione, get Poppy, please! I think this one wants to come out right - ouch - now.\"

I didn\'t question her, but took a pinch of Floo powder and summoned the Hogwarts Infirmary. \"Madame Pomfrey?\" I called into the flames. Poppy\'s head appeared in the fireplace.

\"What is it?\" she asked, looking at me as if she has no idea who I am, which was probably the case.

\"I\'m at Harry\'s, Madame Pomfrey. Ginny\'s in labour, and she needs you here as soon as possible!\"

\"You\'re in Harry\'s rooms? Child, I will be there directly, but you could have just opened the door and shouted. What a waste of Floo powder! We\'re right next door after all!\" She clucked disapprovingly, and her head vanished from the fireplace.

Just next door? But that would mean -

Oh, gods.

I was at Hogwarts.