Promise You Won\'t Forget Me

~Chapter 5: Startling Discoveries~

*Day 3--Afternoon to Evening*

All Hermione wanted was a relaxing walk around the deck--alone. However, there were many problems with that plan. For one, she couldn´t get the image of Martin out of her head, and the knowledge that there was a corpse in one of the rooms gave her the chills. Secondly, Harry seemed to have decided that she shouldn´t be alone and he followed her everywhere. And thirdly, Ron was acting suspiciously.

Of course, he had been acting suspiciously ever since Hermione had seen him at the pool, but this was different. And she didn´t like it.

So Hermione did what Hermione always did when she had a problem she just couldn´t solve. She went to the library. She had been absolutely stunned to discover that the S.S. Thunder n´ Lightning actually had it´s own, rather extensive, library. She loved it. It was absolutely silent, decorated in bright, tropical colors, with cozy armchairs for reading, and a very friendly elderly librarian.

She pushed the solid oak doors open and walked in, smiling brightly at the librarian. But instead of looking at the books, she headed for the periodicals. What she wanted was old Daily Prophet issues, but she could only find the American equivalent called The Owlery. She rifled through a few pages and was just about to toss the whole thing back when a picture caught her eye. She gasped aloud; a sound which echoed in the cavernous room.

"Hermione," said a voice. The voice was accompanied with a tap on her shoulder.

Hermione shrieked loudly and Alexa jumped back. The scream echoed for several seconds before fading away. Hermione clutched a hand to her chest and took a deep breath. She quickly held the newspaper behind her back.

"Don´t do that!" she shouted at Alexa. "Goodness, you gave me a heart attack."

Alexa smiled apologetically. "I´m sorry, I didn´t mean to. Harry told me I could find you here, and I assumed it was my duty to drag you out from the dusty old books. Why are you so jumpy, anyway?"

Hermione muttered something unintelligible. She couldn´t tell Alexa the real reason, she couldn´t tell anyone that there was a dead man lying in a pool of blood in one of the cabins. Ugh. She shuddered again.

"Pity about Nassau, isn´t it?" Alexa commented. "I wanted to do some shopping."

Hermione stared at her. "Alexa, there´s a mall on this ship! This ship has practically everything you could ever need!"

"It doesn´t have a beach, now does it?" Alexa said, pointing a finger. "I need a tan."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Lie out on the deck for a while. We don´t need to dock at Nassau."

Alexa looked at her. "Do you know the real reason we can´t dock? There´s a rumor going around the ship that we have a crook on board."

Hermione´s heart was pounding madly inside her chest. Oh Merlin, what if someone found out? No, she was being ridiculous, no one would find out.

She did her best to shrug casually and keep her voice calm. "Not a clue. It probably is the water level."

Alexa smiled. "Probably. Are you coming out anytime soon? Harry´s looking for you."

"Of course he is," Hermione muttered under her breath. Fortunately, Alexa didn´t hear her. "Sure, I´ll come out. Isn´t the mixer tonight?"

Alexa nodded happily. "Jean Luc said he´d save the dances for me." She giggled. "Isn´t he just the sweetest?"

Hermione nodded absently. "I need to talk to Harry quickly, Lex, so I´ll meet you in the squash courts, alright?"

Alexa nodded and skipped out of the library. Hermione took the paper, ripped out the article that interested her, and stuffed it in her pocket. Then she went to find Harry, to share with him her discovery. She found him in the bar/nightclub The Electric Dragon, nursing a whiskey and soda.

She walked up to him and handed him the newspaper article she found in the Library.

"Look at this," she demanded. Harry spit out a mouthful of whiskey and choked.

"Hermione!" he cried, coughing. "Don´t do that!"

"I´m sorry," she said, "but look at this!"

She forced the article in front of his face and he scanned it. His eyes widened in surprised and he accidentally knocked over his glass. His eyes met hers and he gaped.

"This looks like Alexa," he said when he found his voice.

"It is Alexa," Hermione said firmly. Harry looked skeptically at her.

"You know, I´m not sure I like this new attitude of yours. It is Ron, it is Alexa. Who next, Miss I-Know-Everything?"

Hermione gaped at him. Then she looked at the bar and front of him and the surprise was replaced with annoyed shock.

"Harry, are you drunk?" she asked in disbelief.

"No," Harry slurred. "I´ve only had a couple of drinks."

"A couple of hundred is more like it," Hermione muttered under her breath. She shook her head; Harry never got drunk. What was going on? She pulled him up off the stool and dragged him towards the door. "Come on, Harry, you need to sleep off all that alcohol."

Harry went with her unprotesting. She dropped him off in his room and tucked him into bed. He fell asleep quickly and Hermione watched him for a moment. He looked so peaceful and angelic sleeping there. She still wasn´t used to him without his glasses, but it was a definite improvement.

Closing the door behind her quietly, Hermione entered the hall. She was about to go to the squash courts and find Alexa when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She shrieked and immediately scolded herself for doing so.

"Honestly, you look like you swallowed an entire pot of coffee," Claudia said, concerned. "Why are you so jumpy, Hermione?"

Hermione was taking slow, labored breaths, trying to lower her heart beat. "I´m just not used to people sneaking up on me."

Claudia smiled. "I was just going to the massage parlor and wanted to know if you´d like to join me."

Hermione did, but belatedly she remembered Alexa, someone she did not feel like spending time with at the moment.

"I would, but I promised Alexa we´d play squash. But let me grab her and we´ll both meet you down there."

"Fine," Claudia said cheerfully, turning around and heading down the stairs, her long black hair floating out behind her. Hermione watched her go a moment later and then went to find Alexa.

Alexa agreed she´d rather get a massage than play squash. Besides, she said, after the massage they should all get made up for the mixer which was in only a few short hours. Claudia loved that idea, but Hermione was a trifle hesitant until she realized that the other girls wouldn´t giver her any choice. It was Parvati and Lavender all over again.

They entered the spa and Hermione was massaged by a man named Hans who had magic fingers. It felt lovely, and Hermione could feel her fears and worries slip away. To hell with Ron Weasley. Forget Harry Potter. Martin who? Why were men the source of all her problems?

But she couldn´t help thinking about the robbery in her room. It hadn´t been right; other than her jewelry, nothing had been taken. But the room had been practically destroyed, so the intruder must have been looking for something. What?

Alexa and Claudia dragged her into the beauty parlor and salon. Hermione suppressed a groan. They were only being nice, she told herself.

A woman named Ginger worked on her and tutted. "What have you done to your hair, dearie? Well, no problem really. You have two choices: either let me cut it short, or just style it. You´d look so cute with short hair."

But Hermione couldn´t imagine herself with really short hair and Professors were not supposed to be `cute.´

She forced the words through gritted teeth. "Just style it please."

She sat in that chair for what seemed like hours while Ginger tugged and pulled, coated and sprayed, curled and blow-dried, plucked her eyebrows, put mascara on her lashes, and made up her face. Hermione had a headache and desperately wanted to leave. Finally Ginger proclaimed her finished.

"Voila!" she cried. "You look fabulous!"

"Oh, good, are you done, too, Hermione?" Claudia´s voice said before she came into view. "We had better get to our rooms and change then, the mixer starts in an hour." She appeared in front of Hermione, looking very beautiful with several thick braids tied into an intricate knot a top her head.

"Oh, Hermione," Claudia squealed. "You look amazing! Alexa, come see this!"

Alexa came around the corner, looking a trifle over made-up, but still very pretty, and she gasped.

"Hermione," she said in surprise. "You look wonderful! Wait until Harry sees you!"

Hermione bit her tongue to prevent a nasty remark, and instead glanced in the mirror. Her jaw dropped. That couldn´t be her reflection!

Her hair fell in soft waves to her shoulders, with the exception of the part which was up and curled. Her makeup was artfully applied with pale green eyeshadow and a red lipstick. She looked wonderful, but felt uncomfortable. This person wasn´t Hermione Granger. She continued to gape at herself in the mirror.

"Come on," Claudia said, pulling on her arm, "we have to go change!"

Hermione walked back to her room in a daze and sat down heavily on her bed. Then she started to cry.

She had no idea what was wrong with her, but she felt so confused. Hermione didn´t like to be confused; she needed solutions to her problems. She needed to get Ron to remember who he was, figure out why Harry was acting so strangely, and figure out who the murderer was.

There was a knock at her door and Hermione realized that she still wasn´t dressed. Nevertheless, she stood up and went to the door. Ron was waiting outside.

"Ron!" Hermione said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "I was going to see if you were ready to go to the party, but I can see you´re not." His ears turned red. "Sorry, I´ll meet you there."

He turned to leave, but then caught sight of her face and hair. "Wow, you look...well, beautiful."

She could feel herself blushing. "Thank you. Come in for a minute, Ron. I´d like to talk to you."

She stepped back and he entered her room. Finding a seat on a chair, he tapped his foot impatiently and looked rather nervous. Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him.

"Ron, you´ve lived in America for a long time, right?"

He jumped as if that was the last question he had been expecting. "Yes, for as long as I can remember."

`Which isn´t very long,´ Hermione thought wryly. "What do you think of this?"

She handed him the same newspaper clipping that she had shown Harry earlier. Ron looked at it, frowning slightly. After a moment he looked up at her.

"I remember this woman," he looked back at the article, "Candace Bailey was held responsible for the disappearance of ten important Ministry wizards. They were never seen again." He laughed. "They let her off due to lack of evidence, but I think she did it."

Hermione was curious. "Really? Why?"

"The article says she was a magi-physicist, right?" Ron asked. "Well, it was obvious, to me at least, that she was experimenting with Portals."

"What´s a Portal?" Hermione asked, never having heard of this before.

Ron scratched his head. "Well, let me see if I can explain it in layman´s terms. Several years ago, there was a wizard named Gordon Batsky, and he developed this theory that running along side our dimension, there are, in fact, millions of other parallel dimensions. I won´t bore you with his scientific proof. Let´s just say, that it seemed that his theory was correct. However, there was no way to reach these millions of other dimensions. Well, to make a long story short, Batsky created something he called a Portal. It was like a Port-key, only to another dimension. And it worked. The only problem was, he died barely two weeks after making his remarkable journey."

Hermione interrupted. "Not to be rude, Ron, but what´s the point?"

"I´m coming to that," he said almost irritably, and Hermione´s heart started racing. Was that the real Ron? Or wasn´t it?

"So many other wizard scientists wanted to use Batsky´s Portal. Except that it wouldn´t work for them. All of them decided to forget about parallel dimensions and assume that Batsky was crazy. Except for one woman, Sibyl Trelawney."

"Trelawney!" Hermione exclaimed. Ron glared at her.

"Yes, Trelawney. Anyway, she refused to accept that Batsky (who happened to be her uncle) was crazy, and she read through his documented evidence. In his journal he wrote down the recipe for the Portal Potion. Sibyl followed it and attempted to create her own. She did it, too. Only her Portal didn´t go to the same place that Batsky´s did. It went to another dimension. And when she tried to show someone else, it refused to work."

Noticing Hermione´s confused look, Ron went on.

"You see, the thing is, no two people can make a Portal to the same dimension. There are literally millions of dimensions that we can access. Basically, enough dimensions for every person on this planet. And every time you make a Portal, it takes you to a new one. Time flows differently in each dimension. Some flow faster, some slower, and some at the same speed." He shrugged. "I´ve never really understood the science behind it myself."

Hermione was fascinated. "What do Portals look like?"

He shrugged. "Each Portal is unique to the wizard or witch who creates it. That´s why no two Portals look exactly alike."

"Can you come back from another dimension?"

"Batsky and Trelawney did, although neither were the same afterward. The person who created the Portal can come and go as they please, providing whatever is in their dimension doesn´t kill them. I think that´s why Batsky died so quickly. Something was wrong inside his dimension."

"Why can´t you let other people use your Portal to get to your dimension?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Well, that´s the thing," Ron said. "Portals exist and while they´re extremely complicated to make, it´s not impossible. So if Candace Bailey was `experimenting´ with Portals, she was most likely trying to find away to bring people into her dimension, but not let them out. She probably succeeded."

"So you think this Bailey woman created a Portal and put those ten wizards inside her own personal dimension."

Ron nodded. "Yes." He glanced at the picture in the article again. "Hey, this Candace person looks a lot like your friend Alexa, doesn´t she?"

"Yes," Hermione said absently. "Ron, I have to get dressed, I´ll meet you in the ballroom."

He stood up and made his way to the door. Just as he stepped outside, he turned and regarded Hermione with his serious brown eyes.

"Promise me you´ll be careful," he said. "Something odd´s going on, and I want you to be safe."

Ordinarily Hermione would have taken offense at that comment and made some remark about being perfectly capable of saving herself, but she only nodded meekly. He left and Hermione started to get dressed, feeling empty somehow.

She put on the green dress and looked at herself in the mirror, shaking her head. This wasn´t her. She felt even more ridiculous than she had in her fourth year. Back then, she had enjoyed dressing up and fixing her hair, and generally making everyone gape at her. It had been fun. Of course, then she´d had that big row with Ron.

Her smile slipped. Why did every thought invariably lead back to Ron? She groaned and buried her face in her hands. She needed therapy. Desperately.

She left her room and went to the ballroom. As she pushed the door open, her eyes widened in surprise. The decorations were lovely, if a tad gaudy, and bright. There seemed to be real fairies for lights, musical instruments that played themselves, and songbirds flying above.

Harry and Ron were both there waiting for her. Hermione noticed that as soon as she entered, they both started towards her and a memory suddenly flashed before her eyes.

Sixth year, another Yule Ball. Hermione had spent all afternoon getting ready, fixing her hair, putting on her dress and shoes, and applying light makeup. Now it was time to reap the fruits of her labor.

She entered the Great Hall, nervous and excited and blushed when she noticed that almost all eyes were on her. She was dateless that year, by her own free choice, not from any lack of suitors. She made her way to the punch bowl and poured a glass, then she stood watching as the other couples danced.

Suddenly both Harry and Ron converged on her, no doubt wanting to ask her to dance. Hermione panicked unnecessarily, as Harry reached her first and held out his hand to her.

"You look beautiful," he said, almost shyly.

"Thank you," Hermione replied and took his hand.

But she would never forget the hurt look on Ron´s face.

This time, Ron got to her first and offered his arm. She took it and he led her to a table. Harry and Claudia joined them a second later. Hermione noticed that Harry seemed refreshed and had no symptoms of a hangover.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" she asked sympathetically.

He smiled at her. "Much better, thanks."

"I´m glad."

"Care to dance, Hermione?" Ron asked.

She nodded and stood up from the table. She and Ron moved to the center of the room and started to sway to the music. Hermione was content to close her eyes and lay her head on his shoulder. She breathed in deeply and inhaled his scent. He smelled like pine and chocolate, a wonderful combination. It was Ron´s smell and it was comforting.

They didn´t speak, they simply danced. But it soon became too much for her and she pulled away, using a headache as her excuse.

Returning to her table, Hermione spotted Ron´s two friends whispering and pointing at him. She didn´t like that at all. They were up to something.

Her attention drifted to Rita Skeeter who was chatting up some elderly man who looked as if he could drop dead at any moment. He was tapping his cane on the floor in time to the music and turning progressively redder as Rita whispered in his ear. Hermione snorted. Trust Rita Skeeter to give her a laugh.

But she was worried. Sooner or later Rita would discover the body in the cabin. Then she´d blow it way out of proportion (the fact that he was murdered so messily was already enough). Hermione had a sudden burst of angry frustration that made her want to rip her hair out. Why couldn´t she live a normal life? A life devoid of murders, disappearing friends, annoying reporters, and all the rest.

Then she laughed. She wouldn´t be happy with a normal life either.

Harry came and sat down next to her. He stared at her for several minutes before speaking.

"Hermione, can we talk?"

She smiled at him, but it was tentative. Harry had been acting very oddly since they had started this cruise and she wanted to know what was wrong.

"Certainly, Harry," she answered. "What about?"

"I need to know where things stand between us," he said seriously. His normally bright green eyes were dull and lifeless.

"Excuse me?" Hermione said, taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"How do you see me, Hermione?" he asked almost desperately. "Am I just a chum, or can there be more between us?"

"More between us?" she repeated blankly. "Harry, what are you talking about?"

Harry fidgeted and started to sweat. "Let´s go outside, please."

Hermione nodded and stood up. They walked to the door and were about to go outside when Ron came up to Hermione and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, you still owe me a dance," he said with a smile. "And what about that thing you wanted to try last night?"

Hermione noticed that Harry´s expression darkened and he was scowling. She stifled a smile; she knew what Harry was thinking.

"I´ll be back in a minute, Ron," she replied. "We´ll try that `thing´ later."

He nodded and wandered back to his friends. Hermione took Harry´s arm and pulled him out the door since he seemed incapable of moving at that moment. The way he was glaring at Ron made Hermione uncomfortable, and the suspicion of what he was trying to tell her frightened her.

"Hermione, I can´t play this game with you anymore," Harry said finally.

"Game?" Hermione repeated. Her head was spinning; she felt so confused.

"I need to know how you feel about me, Hermione," he said seriously.

"What are you on about, Harry?" Hermione asked, frustrated. "I love you, you´re one of my best friends."

His face fell. "Never mind, just forget it. I was an idiot to think you could feel the same."

He turned and walked away. Hermione called after him.

"Wait, Harry, stop!"

But he kept walking. Hermione suddenly felt very alone.

She was about to go back to the ballroom when she heard voices. Recognizing them as Ron´s friends, she quickly hid around the corner and watched them. They were arguing in low tones, and Hermione leaned forward to listen.

"I don´t like this, Charles," she said in a snappy tone. "He´s getting too close to her."

"I know that, Blaine," Charles said snootily, stressing her name as though it were a bad word. "What are we going to do about it?"

"Aren´t you the brains of this operation?" Blaine retorted. "Kill her, ravish her, I don´t care, but keep her away from him. He can´t remember her."

Hermione held her breath. They were going to kill someone! Then a lightbulb went off. They were going to kill her!

They started to move on and Hermione followed, abandoning common sense. She had just turned a corner in time to see Blaine and Charles O´Malley disappear through a wall. A solid wall.

She was dumbfounded. That morning in the library, Hermione had read a book about the ship and she knew that there were all sorts of wards put up to prevent Apparation. What had they just done?

She wandered around in a daze and ran straight into Jack, the captain. He certainly looked better than he had the previous evening.

"Professor Granger," he said happily. "What can I do for you?"

Hermione had no idea why she said what she did, but the words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

"I want the key to Martin´s room."

Jack turned green. "I´m afraid that´s impossible on many levels. The first being, a young woman of your status shouldn´t be mucking around with dead bodies." He shuddered. "And second, I don´t have the key."

"What?" Hermione exclaimed. "What happened to it?"

"I must have misplaced it during the entire ordeal."

"You don´t sound very concerned," Hermione admonished.

"I will secure a replacement when we dock. It´s not important, and it will prevent anyone from looking into that room. Good evening, Professor Granger."

Hermione gaped after him as he walked away humming a strange American tune. Then she was filled with sudden determination. She was going to look in that room and no one would stop her. She steeled herself and made her way to Martin´s room, shuddering at the thought of what lay beyond that door.

Fortunately the magical keyhole hadn't disappeared. Knowing that no Alohomora charm would open the lock, she took out a hair pin and set to work on it. She felt a little guilty that she would resort to such a childish trick, but it was necessary. Of course, even the act of picking a lock reminded her of Ron and Harry. Not long after Ron and his twin brothers had rescued Harry from the Dursleys, Harry had insisted that Ron teach him how to pick a lock "the muggle way". Despite her dislike of rule-breaking, Hermione had watched with interest and filed the information away for later use. She´d never imagined she´d be using the knowledge to break into a cabin with a dead body inside.

Finally the lock clicked and the door swung open. She entered holding her breath, trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach. With a soft, "Lumos!" Hermione shone the light into the cabin.

The body was missing.

The sheets were still covered in his blood, but the body was gone. Hermione blinked and tried to clear her vision, as though she was imagining things. But, no, Martin Franklin´s corpse really was gone. Hermione ventured towards the blood-stained bed. There was something on it, it looked like a book. It was a book, a very familiar looking book. In fact, it was Hogwarts, A History.

She was about to pick it up when the door closed suddenly behind her. She shivered, and it wasn´t from the cold. Hermione was ready to leave. None of this made sense, not even the slightest bit, and she´d learn no more from this room.

She picked up the book. But then a strange sensation washed over her. She felt like someone was pressing down on her head and pressing up on her feet at the same time, as though trying to compact her. The book slipped from her hands onto the bed and the pages flipped open. A hole appeared on one of the pages and was growing steadily larger. She was being pulled toward it and before she could scream (as she intended) she was sucked into the book.

She tried to scream, but her throat was caught. Despite her fear and her predicament, Hermione´s brain was already processing the possibilities and after a few seconds, she hit upon the answer.

She had stumbled into someone´s Portal.

~*~