Forsaken Kneazles
Chapter Seven: Forsaken Kneazles
"Harry - you're a great wizard, you know." "I'm not as good as you," said Harry, very embarrassed, as she let go of him. "Me!" said Hermione. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things - friendship and bravery and - oh Harry - be careful!"
- J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
Hermione Granger was absolutely beside herself with worry.
She had been so incredibly excited when Professor McGonagall had approved her request to use a time turner for the upcoming school year, and even more incredibly excited when her professor had personally submitted the application paperwork to the Department of Mysteries. Imagine it, the opportunity to take every elective! Oh, the things she could've learned! And she could've possibly earned more OWLS and NEWTS than anyone ever had before, which would have certainly given her an edge after graduation.
But her excitement had been for naught. A big fat rejection letter with the Ministry's seal landed on her desk, the owl looking rather apologetic as he delivered it. Hermione had bawled for hours, with Hedwig looking on in concern. She imagined that the poor owl had never been used to such drama in its life at Privet Drive. It made Hermione feel altogether silly, but she cried all the same.
This meant that Hermione would be forced to give up at least two electives. Muggle Studies had been the obvious first choice, although she had wanted the class for its insights into what wizards thought about the muggle world. Divination had been the reluctant second choice, and mostly because of rumors in the academic community that Professor Trelawney was a bit of a crackpot in her field.
Hermione had already bought the textbooks for the classes, much to her parents' chagrin, but this didn't bother her in the least. Ron was taking divination and Ernie Macmillan was taking muggle studies, she knew. Between the two of them, she could still follow along outside of class. She had already read the textbooks, after all, so most of the work was already done. But she would still miss out on class discussions, teacher insights, and so much more...
But academic worries aside, what bothered her most throughout the summer had been how isolated she felt. She was segregated from any wizarding news, with only the Daily Prophet and Ron's scarce letters to rely on. Certainly nothing that explained what had happened to 'Tom Riddle' after his escape from the Chamber of Secrets, or what exactly had happened at Godric's Hollow over the summer. If what the papers were saying were true...and Harry's parents were alive, it would be the first time in wizarding history of any confirmed resurrections. It would be groundbreaking.
The Auror Office was actually considering suing Rita Skeeter, much to Hermione's amusement. The reporter had broken the case wide open, claiming to have insider knowledge about the "Aztec curse that brought the Potters back to life". Rita's work had always been poorly sourced and outlandishly exaggerated in the past, so Hermione was rather surprised to find out from Ron that her claims were partially true. Bill had been consulted during the investigation, but he insisted that it was an Incan curse, not Aztec, and that while it killed Quirrell, it wasn't what resurrected the Potters. And the rubbish Rita was spewing about Lily Potter and the Fountain of Youth was completely unfounded.
But the question still remained. Why would Quirrell resurrect the Potters? How did he do it? Why would he do it now, nearly a year later? Where was Harry? And with Professor Quirrell dead, why wasn't he free? Hermione had the sinking feeling that she knew why. It was the very thing Dumbledore had indicated at the end of her first and second year. Voldemort was alive and gaining power, even if the rest of the wizarding world refused to see it. And Harry was with him.
"Oh, it's not so bad, 'Mione. You're still taking one more elective than everyone else." Ron assured her, kicking a rock as he walked alongside her. The Weasley's had been kind enough to invite her to do some last minute shopping in Hogsmede before they headed off to school the next day, and Hermione had been eager to take them up on their offer.
"Only the Gryffindors, Ron. Most of the Ravenclaws take three electives, too." She sulked, tempted to kick a rock alongside him. She had filled him in on the details of the sordid affair, needing someone to confide in after her attempt had flopped.
"I mean, it makes sense. They've never leased a time turner to students for classes before, have they? You were bloody crazy for trying, if you ask me."
"They have, actually." Hermione corrected. "They usually only make an exception for one Hogwarts student at a time, but they've recalled the leases this year. Professor McGonnogall said there was some sort of break-in at the Department of Mysteries over the summer."
"Really? I hadn't heard tha'. Dad hasn't said anything about it.."
"I think Harry's parents have been overshadowing it in the news." She admitted softly, comforting herself that she had been rejected due to rotten luck and not due to any lack of qualifications.
Ron grew sullen at the mention of Harry, much to Hermione's displeasure. She never knew what to say around the redhead anymore. The slightest thing would set him off, and without Harry to translate ... their friendship had been rocky, at best.
But Hermione had seen a side to Ron that no one else had. Only months ago, she had seen the same abrasive boy tenderly cradling his sister's body, rocking as he sobbed. Ron might be stubborn, and insufferable, and argumentative, and-well-just absolutely exasperating, but he was also good. And he was the only person in the world that understood what she was going through, at least when it came to Harry.
"Oi, do you mind if we stop by Diagon Alley? I've been needing some rat tonic for Scabbers. Magical Menagerie should have some." Ron blinked rapidly, the thought suddenly occurring to him. On queue, Scabbers peaked out of his pocket, sniffing the air in interest. A bakery was baking fresh bread nearby, she noted.
"That's fine. You really should take better care of him, Ronald. He could run off into the streets, you know." She scolded, watching as the rat strained towards the smell of rye.
"I do! I'm not mistreating 'im or nothin, he's just so old. He's been in the family since Percy started school, did you know tha'? He's been off-colour since our trip to Egypt, got me a bit worried to be right honest."
"He's always off-colour." Hermione smiled, following him knowingly as they walked. A good person, indeed.
Hermione couldn't say that she wasn't just as concerned about Hedwig. She had never had a pet before, and she wasn't even sure if her parents would let her keep the owl in the beginning. It didn't help that Hedwig had been utterly awful when she first arrived, destroying any blankets or clothes she could find, clawing desperately at the windows. It was obvious that she was confused and missed Harry, which had broken Hermione's heart even more. But Hedwig had slowly warmed up to her new owner, mostly due to a long 'talk' she had with the bird after she had kept Hermione up all night with her screeching. The logical part of Hermione knew that Hedwig couldn't possibly understand what the young witch was telling her, yet the snowy owl had somehow understood that Harry was missing, that Hermione was looking for him, and that Hermione intended to take care of her until her former master returned.
Giving Hedwig a job seemed to help, and with the Daily Prophet and her numerous letters, Hermione had more than enough work to give her. But one particular job seemed to affect the bird more than any other. The letter she had written to Harry.
It was a vain hope, Hermione knew, but owls were profound for their ability to deliver letters to undeliverable locations. She had plotted for hours on what to say, but in the end, it didn't matter.
A week after Hermione had sent it, Hedwig had returned with her feathers wilted, and absolutely depressed. The letter was still in her talons, crumpled and unopened. Feeling guilty for asking the owl of such a thing, Hermione had comforted Hedwig that night, as best as she knew how to comfort the owl, and Hedwig had been passive and obedient ever since.
As they reached their destination, Hermione eyed the numerous fancy owl cages in the store display. Perhaps she couldn't afford something that nice, but her parents had given her some birthday money to use. Something to cheer Hedwig up, at least.
Magical Menagerie wasn't a particularly inviting store. As she entered, Hermione felt rather cramped, the tiny space forcing her to press awkwardly against Ron. The cages were smelly and unkempt, and the organization rather cluttered. There were cats of every colour, a noisy cage of ravens, a basket of funny custard-coloured furballs that were humming loudly, and, on the counter, a vast cage of sleek black rats which were playing some sort of skipping game using their long bald tails. Below them, a series of potions and hamster wheels were cluttered about, and Ron nearly knocked her over as he reached for them.
In the corner, alone and scowling, a golden cat looked up at her, a strange expression in its eyes. He was a gorgeous beast, reminding her of a tiny bow-legged lion. The saleswoman noticed Hermione's interest almost immediately, offering her a crooked smile.
"Been 'ere for some time, that one has. Nobody's ever wanted him before."
Hermione wanted him. There was intelligence in his eyes. He wasn't conventionally beautiful or what the rest of the wizarding world expected of him, something Hermione could empathize with. Yet even locked in that cage, he was content with being whoever he wanted to be. But an owl screeched behind her, reminding Hermione that she already had other obligations. Students could only have one pet at Hogwarts, and there was no way Hermione's mum was going to agree to look after the creature.
Hermione put her hand on the cage, offering her fingers for the cat to smell as she looked at him longingly.
"I want you." She comforted the feline, hoping he could understand her. "If I could bring you with me, I would." The cat bowed its head, although whether out of boredom or respect, Hermione couldn't tell for sure.
Hermione was soon glad to be out of that place, with its claustrophobic atmosphere and that cat's sad eyes. She had bought some sort of owl toy instead, a colorful hanging contraption that she hoped would keep Hedwig busy. Ron's attempts to offer Scabbers the rat tonic went unrewarded, with him announcing he would just have to sneak it into the rat's food. Scabbers squeaked at this, seeming disgusted by the idea. To Scabbers' credit, the tonic didn't smell very nice, although Hermione had seen the rat eating nastier things.
Without any more books, clothes, or accessories to buy, but with time to spare before they were supposed to rejoin Mrs. Weasley, they decided to wait at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour across the street. Mr. Fortescue himself seemed very kind, with a friendly smile and a silly mustache. Ron immediately went for the new Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Ice Cream, while she had decided on the more sensible cherry and vanilla flavors. Her decision was rewarded when Ron's first bite was met with a foul, scrunched up face.
"Told you." She smirked, taking a scoop of her own.
Ron's ice cream was a rather clever idea, she supposed. Topped with crushed jelly beans, the ice cream itself was charmed like the infamous beans, so that every bite was different no matter where you scooped it from. He had offered to let her try his, but she politely declined. She never liked playing the odds.
"I wish I could buy Hedwig a proper cage." Hermione murmured, eyeing her surroundings. The parlour wasn't particularly busy, with only two other people seated a couple booths down. "She's calmed down over the summer, but I still hate to keep her cooped up in that tiny contraption.
Ron blinked, confused.
"Most owl cages are that size. What's wrong with it?"
"Even canaries get bigger cages than that in the muggle world, Ron." She murmured, thinking wistfully back to the cages in the windowsill. They had seemed so...pureblood in design, with gilded trims and roses or snakes wrapped around their corners. Pureblood seemed to mean the same thing as old money here, although Ron was certainly an exception to that rule.
"Well, this isn't the muggle world." Ron grumbled, wincing as he took another bite of his ice cream. "Owls 'ere are used to it. And they get plenty of exercise sending letters!"
"I suppose." Hermione bit her lip, watching Ron cross his arms. She had more to say on the subject, but he had been so defensive lately that she decided to let the matter go, instead letting her eyes wander. There was something awfully familiar about the man in that booth, although she couldn't quite place what.
And then it hit her. She widened her eyes, elbowing Ron.
"That's Professor Lupin!" She whispered excitedly, Ron seeming rather nonplussed as he took another bite of his ice cream.
"Who?"
"The new DADA professor. I knew I recognized him from somewhere. His picture was in the paper. He was friends with Sirius Black."
"They're letting that nutter's friend teach us?" Ron blinked worriedly, beginning to turn around. Hermione reached out quickly, stopping him.
"Don't! It's rude to stare, Ron."
"You're the one starin', not me." Ron rolled his eyes, straining once more. Scabbers, who had previously been picking at a bit of ice cream Ron had left out for him, let out a distressed squeak, burying himself in Ron's pocket as the redhead moved. Hermione rolled her eyes, taking a bite of her ice cream and ducking her head, hoping Ron wasn't noticed. He might be loyal and brave and good, but he was certainly not stealthy. Ron let out a huff and returned to his nearly finished dessert.
"Doesn't look tha' impressive to me. But anything's better than Lockhart."
"We shouldn't speak ill of the dead." She murmured, looking away.
"We shouldn't speak ill of people you had bloody crushes on, you mean. He was a ruddy fraud and I'm glad he died.. He tried to obliviate me. And he would have, too, if it weren't for you." Ron retorted.
Hermione closed her eyes at the thought of it. She had tried to put that day behind her, to not hear the pipes hissing or that terrible boy's voice every time she went to use the bathroom. But Ron had been the opposite, always wanting to talk about it, never wanting to let his anger go.
"He's dead because of me." She whispered, not able to look him in the eye.
"He's dead because of that Tom guy. And you know what? He bloody deserved it!" Ron had raised his voice, catching Professor Lupin's attention. Across from the professor, a woman peered over her shoulder, nearly as obvious in her staring as Ron had been just moments before. Her hair was an unnatural shade of blonde, and the witch seemed unusually uncomfortable in her outfit. But her eyes….they were familiar, although Hermione couldn't pinpoint why.
"Shh!" Hermione hushed him, glancing back towards the couple, who had returned to their conversation. The woman was holding a wand in the air, the two of them examining it like one would a new toy. A rectangular box was on the table, Ollivander's name embedded on the side in gold. A new wand? It was odd for a woman her age, but not unheard of. Wands were lost or broken from time to time, after all.
"Lockhart still deserved it." Ron grumbled, his ears turning pink. Hermione shook her head, turning her attention back to her companion.
"We forced him to go with us. I held him at wandpoint, Ron. That boy might've killed him, but Lockhart's dead because of me."
"An' I suppose Harry being missing is our fault too, is that it?!" Ron exclaimed, dropping his spoon in his anger. Hermione closed her eyes, fighting back tears. She couldn't form the words. But she couldn't look Ron in the eye, either.
Ron widened his eyes, and then started shaking his head rapidly as he scowled.
"I can't believe-you-"
"We disobeyed the teachers, Ron. The stone would have been safe if we had just stayed out of it. But instead we meddled, and Quirrell, he-he-we were so foolish-we were so convinced it was Snape-"
"It's not our fault, it's Harry's!" Ron's chin wavered. Wiping a tear away, the boy started gathering his things, Scabbers squeaking at the sudden movement.
"Wh-wh-"
"He's the one that left us. You heard the news, 'Mione. If Quirrell's dead, where's Harry? Why isn't he with his parents? It's because he chose to go with Quirrell, with You-Know-Who, don't you bloody see that?"
Hermione blinked stupidly, suddenly feeling like their usual roles had reversed. The redhead's words dawned on her, beginning to make a horrifying sort of sense.
"We've been thinking all this time that Harry was hurt, or kidnapped, or even dead, but if his parents are alive…. you know what Harry saw in that ruddy mirror? The one from our first year, that showed us what we wanted the most? He always saw his parents. He'd do anything to get them back, even go with that stupid traitor. We both almost died trying to stop You-Know-Who from getting that stone, 'Mione. And Harry just-he just-didn't care."
"You...you don't have any proof. You don't have anything but a hunch that he made a-a-a deal."
Ron scrunched his nose at that, looking down at his ice cream resentfully. "Maybe. Look, I'm not hungry anymore, can we just go?" He wasn't really asking, instead gathering his things and rising from the table. Hermione closed her eyes wearily, a headache forming from being on the receiving end of one of Ron's moods. She nodded, following the redhead as he fled the parlour.
She had nearly made it out the door before she noticed the look Mr. Fortescue was giving them. She glanced back at the mess they had left behind, the nearly empty Bertie Bott's ice cream and her almost untouched cherry. Wincing, she returned to the table, gathering the dishes to turn them into the collection tray at the front counter.
What Ron said bothered her, not only because was the idea of it horrifying, but also because it made sense. She couldn't fathom why she hadn't thought of it before. The first time she had ever met Harry in the train, he had been wide eyed and generous, ecstatic to make his new friends happy with an assortment of candies and treats. She had gathered over their brief friendship that he barely had any friends before Hogwarts, and that his cousin was never nice to him. It was why he was so good at standing up to Malfoy, but was also why he was so eager to please. Why Harry craved and yet was wary of authority figures.
So had he gone along with Quirrell willingly? And did Hermione think less of him, if he had? She pursed her lips as she placed the dirty dishes on the counter, not sure of her own answer.
"Excuse me, miss?" Hermione nearly jumped out of her own skin as she turned, the blonde woman accompanying Professor Lupin now standing behind her. The witch's eyes were desperate, almost longing, something Hermione was surprised to see on the adult.
"Oh, yes?" Hermione nearly stuttered, feeling a bit cornered against the counter. Behind the woman, Professor Lupin seemed torn, eyeing the woman uncertainly.
"I couldn't help but overhear ...but did you say...did you say that you were friends with Harry Potter?"
"I….uh…." Hermione stuttered, puzzled as she watched the two adults warily. She wondered briefly if the woman was a reporter, but the look in the witch's eyes told Hermione that this was more personal than that.
"She's a bit spellbound by the celebrity aspect of it." Professor Lupin explained suddenly, offering Hermione an apologetic smile. The man offered his hand, which Hermione shook in relief.
"Remus Lupin. If you're a Hogwarts student, we might be seeing a bit of each other this year."
"We will! Tomorrow in fact, if you're going by train." Hermione nodded. "I'm Hermione Granger, third year Gryffindor. So is my friend, Ron, actually. I should probably ...I should probably go before he leaves me here." She murmured in embarrassment. On queue, the sullen redhead opened the door he had barged out of, an annoyed look on his face.
"'Mione, you comin' or not?" Her oblivious friend didn't even notice her conversation, his eyes watching the streets rather than the parlour.
"Coming!" She said hurriedly, nodding politely to Professor Lupin and his friend. "It was nice to meet you, professor. And you too, miss." She remarked, following Ron hurriedly.
The sun blinded her as the door swung behind her, confounding her as much as the strange encounter had. Once her vision adjusted, she spotted a particularly agitated Ron trying to force the rat tonic down Scabbers' throat.
"Ron!" She exclaimed, watching in horror as he shook the little creature. But the look in Ron's eyes was fearful, not angry. Scabbers sputtered, squeaking terribly as he choked down the liquid.
"I could have sworn he was having a heart attack, 'Mione! His nose was seized up and he was all stiff."
"Did you...did you feed him any ice cream?" She asked uncertainly, watching the rat sputter.
"No! I told you, he's been sick. And something in there had him in fits." He remarked worriedly, stroking the rat's head in concern.
Hermione bit her lip, casting a look back towards the parlour. Through the storefront's glass, emerald green eyes met hers, the blonde woman from before looking nearly ready to cry. Professor Lupin looked forlorn, as if he didn't know how to comfort her. Something had that woman in fits, too. Hermione looked away, sighing deeply.
It wasn't until the next day, riding in silence on the train, that Hermione would finally figure out who the woman reminded her of.
Harry. The woman had looked like Harry.