Intersections

Chapter 4: Experimentation

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed as he walked sleepily into the form room on Thursday morning. The bruise on his cheek had almost completely faded, and he seemed to have fixed or replaced his glasses, which looked exactly like his old pair, but thicker. In contrast, for the first time since Hermione had met him, he was wearing new clothing that actually fit his body. A few girls' glances lingered on him as they turned around to stare at the returned Harry Potter.

"Thanks for the maths notes," he said, taking a seat next to her as his lips quirked into a smile.

"You're welcome," Hermione answered, pleased. Her eyes flicked toward the front of the room, where Mrs. Garbet was about to begin taking attendance. "I need to talk to you alone during the break," she half-whispered.

Harry's eyes flickered, and he nodded. "I'll meet you here then," he whispered, pulling out his maths textbook. It seemed that he hadn't quite finished his homework. Hermione left him to it and listened to the roll call.

Polkiss paled when he caught sight of Harry entering the maths classroom, and he trembled throughout the lesson. Hermione noticed Katharine glancing sharply between the two boys more than once, but thankfully she didn't give Hermione any suspicious looks as she had done yesterday. Hermione bit her lip and felt her face heat slightly as she thought of her embarrassing outburst in the dining hall, but she quickly turned her thoughts back to the lesson. Next to her, Harry was staring very hard at Mr. Rowle, but occasionally he also glimpsed at Polkiss, his brow furrowed slightly.

Finally, the morning break came around. Hermione told her friends that she had something private to discuss with Harry, and although they raised their eyebrows slightly, they did not question her.

"Hello," Harry said as she sat down next to him. He was sitting alone in the form room, fidgeting nervously with the collar of his polo shirt. Even Mrs. Garbet wasn't there.

"How are you?" she asked. "Your aunt told me you were in the hospital, though she was terribly rude about it."

Harry laughed softly. "I'm not surprised. I'm fine, just a little tired." He tugged at his collar one more time, then dropped his hands to his desk and avoided her gaze.

"Harry," said Hermione, "that night on the stairs...it was magic, wasn't it?" Harry's head jerked upward sharply, hesitance and astonishment written all over his face for a moment before his expression turned blank. Hermione plunged onward, taking a deep breath. "I found a letter when I was unpacking. It was from this school called the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." She quickly pulled out the notes she'd taken for her research in the library after classes. Harry read them, his eyes widening. "That's what you were talking about when you first met us in the dining hall, wasn't it? Your aunt gave you the same type of letters the day before, but you didn't believe her. And then you and Polkiss and I fought on the stairs, and there was that white light that shielded both of us. A magical white light, something...something inexplicable, something you didn't want to believe was magic." She paused to catch her breath. Harry ran his fingers through his hair, looking very nervous, and parsed her notes one more time.

"I thought I was the only one," he said, meeting her eyes. "My aunt - I think she knows more about it than she's letting on. She told me to contact the headmaster - Albus Dumbledore? - before she gave me the letters. She'd kept them hidden for four years. I remember getting them when I was eleven, but my aunt and uncle would never let me see what they said."

"You received more than one letter?" Hermione asked curiously.

Harry nodded distractedly. "Hundreds of them, in fact. They all said the same thing. The school was really desperate to contact me. We had to fly to America to get away. By the time we came back, the letters had stopped coming."

Hermione bit her lip, thinking. "Why did your aunt suddenly show you the letters?" she asked. "I found mine. My parents would have kept it hidden otherwise."

Harry considered something for a moment. "I don't remember exactly, but she was watching the news. There was a story about a previous explosion in London and some kind of image imprinted onto the sky..."

Hermione felt as if the air had been sucked out of her lungs. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the screams and smoke and sirens that invaded her senses, starting when someone touched her arm gently.

"Hermione?" It was Harry. She opened her eyes and gazed back at him, terrified. Realization dawned on his face. "You were there?"

Hermione nodded, taking calming breaths as the terror left her face. "It was awful," she whispered, blinking back tears. "My parents' office..."

Harry looked at her uncertainly, taking one of her hands and squeezing it gently. "It's over now," he said quietly.

"Yes. Yes, it is," she said, trying to revert to her businesslike manner. "So your aunt gave you the letters after watching that newscast?" she asked.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I'm not sure if it was because of that story or because of something else. She just told me to contact the headmaster, and she's been acting strangely ever since."

"Did she say how to contact the headmaster?"

Harry laughed bitterly. "Kind of. When I asked her, she said 'owl,' and she wouldn't tell me anything else."

Hermione furrowed her brow and wrote "owl" underneath her notes. She didn't know anything about magic, but she supposed that using an owl was one way to send messages, just as pigeons were used during the First World War. "I'm going to the library to research this after lessons," she said, looking over her notes as she chewed her lip. "Do you want to join me?"

Harry hesitated and shook his head apologetically. "I need to catch up on my studies from yesterday," he answered. "But - tell me what you find. I'll try to join you next time." He gave her a small smile.

"All right," said Hermione, suddenly filled with excitement. It had been too long since she had had time to work on a project outside of school. She loved learning new material and figuring out a difficult answer, especially if it could explain something in her own life.

Harry stood up to leave. "I'll see you at lunch," he said, tugging at his collar again. "Bye, Hermione."

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"Wow." Lina's eyes glazed over as Harry walked toward their table.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. Harry certainly looked better than he used to, but she didn't really consider him fanciable just yet. Stonewall's dull grey uniforms prevented anyone from really being attractive, plus Harry was still so scrawny.

Harry took a seat next to Hermione, looking at Lina warily. "Hello," he said, pulling out his lunch.

"Hi, Harry," Lina said with a slight giggle. Katharine shot Hermione a confused look, while Sara just looked amused.

"Hi, Lina," Harry replied. "Sara, Katharine." He took a bite of his sandwich, a flush creeping onto his cheeks as he noticed Lina staring at him intently. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No," Lina said in a breathy tone. "Nothing's wrong at all."

Sara cleared her throat. "Nice clothes, Harry," she said. "Are they new?"

"Oh - er - yes," Harry said, looking down self-consciously. "My aunt bought them for me." He looked around. "Where are Will and Arianne?"

"Probably off kissing somewhere," Katharine replied elegantly, tossing back her long blonde plaits. "They had a fight last night. Something about the holidays."

"What are your plans for the holiday, Harry?" Lina asked with an overly bright smile, just as Harry took a large bite of his sandwich.

Harry choked in his haste to answer. "I'll be at home," he coughed, his face bright red. "As usual."

"Oh, that's lovely," Lina breathed. "It's always nice to be with family."

Harry looked as if he were about to counter her statement, but he shut his mouth wisely and simply nodded, looking desperately at Hermione for some way to avoid Lina's fluttering eyelashes. Hermione bit her lip apologetically.

"So, er, Harry," Sara said, "I was going to have a Christmas party at my house at the end of term next week. You're welcome to come. Just give me your phone number and I'll ring you."

"We should all get Harry's phone number," Lina giggled. "Yours too, Hermione," she added as an afterthought.

"Of course," Hermione said, unable to prevent sarcasm from seeping into her voice. Katharine nudged Lina in the ribs and glared, while Sara shot Harry a sympathetic smile. Harry's face was quite pink now.

"I - have to run to the toilet," said Harry after he had exchanged phone numbers with the rest of the table, grabbing his bag and hoisting it over his shoulder quickly. "Great lunch." And he ran out of the dining hall, shooting Lina one last fearful look before going through the doors.

"Honestly, Lina," Sara scolded, "you've scared the poor boy off."

Lina pouted. "I didn't."

"Yes, you did," Katharine said. She mocked in a high-pitched voice, "'Oh, Harry, I want to make your babies! Give me your phone number, Harry!'" Katharine laughed. "I thought that there was something going on between you and Harry," she said, turning to Hermione inquiringly.

Suppressing her irritation, Hermione shook her head in response. "No," she said dismissively. Although Harry was likely her closest friend at Stonewall, she didn't really feel attracted to him in that way - Lina's way. She'd barely known the boy for a week! Meaningful attractions needed far more time to develop. She suddenly remembered why Cecilia had been her only girl friend at Witsford. Girls gossiped too much. Surely there were far more important things to worry about than boyfriends!

"Don't worry, Hermione," Sara whispered as Lina and Katharine began to discuss their holiday plans. "Lina never fancies boys for more than a month."

Hermione felt a small comfort. At least Lina's ridiculous behavior would be over by the start of the next term. She hated girls sometimes. Boys were so much easier to deal with.

"Hermione? Did you hear what I said?" Sara asked, waving a hand in front of Hermione's face.

"Oh!" Hermione shook her head. "Sorry, Sara. No. What?"

"I asked what your plans were for the holidays," Sara replied, twisting a strand of shiny black hair around her fingers and looking at Hermione worriedly.

"I don't know," Hermione answered. "I'll probably ring up my friends in London and ask them to visit."

"You should invite them to the party," Sara smiled. "I've never met anyone from London except for you."

Hermione smiled back, feeling a guilty twinge as she thought of how long it'd been since she talked to her old friends. "I will."

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Harry edged away from Lina as much as he could. She had insisted on sitting next to him for the geography lesson, even though she'd never even acknowledged him in it until today, and her intense brown-eyed stare was making him extremely uncomfortable. He'd never received such extreme attention from a girl before. A week ago no one had paid attention to him, and he'd never expected any - until he met Hermione. He'd been hesitant to accept her friendship at first, but after the incident on the front steps, he knew that she understood him in a way that no one else did. That she had also received a magic school letter only cemented Harry's belief in their connection. Harry was determined to find out more about this so-called wizarding world from his aunt, no matter how difficult it would be to milk her for information. Technically, she was the one who had sparked his curiosity in the first place.

Finally, the lesson ended and Harry stood up, relieved to be free of Lina's presence. He joined the throng of students leaving the school and lounged near the front doors for his uncle to pick him up, hoping that he wouldn't be late. Despite the new warm coat Aunt Petunia had bought him, Harry didn't relish the idea of waiting alone in the cold. The temperatures had been getting lower and lower each day, and pretty soon they would be freezing.

Waving at Hermione, who was taking the bus to the library, Harry watched the mass of students disappear and finally sat down on the steps, pulling out one of his textbooks and opening it across his lap. For once in his life, he itched to return to Privet Drive just so he could reread the letters crumpled up under his bed. After accepting that magic was indeed real, and that he had a fair amount of it, his mind had erupted with possibilities. If he could produce a shield to protect himself from being hit, what else could he do? Turn people into toads? Curse people for life? Harry grinned at the thought of cursing Polkiss and Dudley, but quickly brushed it away. Could he actually ride a broomstick like the witches in children's stories did? Or fly? Was his face going to sprout warts when he got older? Did he have a magical wand or staff? Harry thought he'd feel funny waving around a stick to cast spells. A staff would be much cooler.

Perhaps magic was what Uncle Vernon meant by "funny business." He had certainly read the Hogwarts letter when Harry had first received it. Harry wasn't sure if his uncle knew that the letters were now under Harry's bed, but he supposed that Aunt Petunia must have informed her husband about what the letters meant. He wondered why the school had contacted him so many times, but had only contacted Hermione once. Perhaps if the student had a relative who already knew about the wizarding world, then the school sent more letters. Or maybe Hermione's parents had written back right away saying that Hermione wasn't going to attend Hogwarts. As far as Harry knew, the Dursleys had never bothered responding to the letter; they'd simply run away as far and fast as they could.

A cold wind was blowing strongly, making Harry wrap his coat more tightly around himself. In the distance, thunder roared, and he could swear he'd seen a flash of lightning. A few seconds later, he groaned as he felt cold raindrops hit his face. He'd forgotten to bring an umbrella this morning, and Stonewall provided no shelter from the storm.

A sudden idea flashed through Harry's mind. Maybe he could use magic to keep him dry. If the magic had stopped him from being hit by Polkiss' body, perhaps it could do the same for raindrops. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to imagine a white light enveloping his body, keeping him warm and dry. The raindrops were hitting him less frequently now, even though it was pouring harder, and finally, Harry felt himself - and his glasses - completely dry despite the raging storm. Opening his eyes, Harry could not see any white light, but raindrops were bouncing off of some kind of thin protective layer over his body. Intrigued, Harry tried to make the layer thicker, but he felt his knees buckle and he stopped, getting hit with a downpour of rain before he managed to enact the layer again. He held it for a few minutes before Uncle Vernon pulled his car up to the steps, barking at Harry to get in quickly. Dripping with water, Harry climbed in, ignoring his uncle's growls about "flooding the whole damn car like you did the house," and headed back home toward Privet Drive.

Aunt Petunia shrieked as soon as Harry stepped into the kitchen, dripping rainwater all over her pristine floor. "Get those dirty clothes out of here immediately!" she cried shrilly, nearly dropping the pot roast she was taking out of the oven. Harry rolled his eyes and began to move upstairs to the toilet, stopping briefly in surprise when he heard her add, "And boy! Take a hot shower! I don't want you to be ill again!" Aunt Petunia's behavior had been getting more and more motherly since Harry had returned from the hospital. Harry still wasn't very comfortable with it, though he was grateful for fewer chores and more food to eat.

Relaxing in the shower, Harry grinned as he thought of the thin shield that he'd made to keep him dry. He was just about to step out when he felt a searing pain go through his scar, splitting his forehead in half. Clapping a hand to his forehead, he blinked past the pain and shut off the water, collapsing on the bottom of the bathtub and gasping in agony. Images and noises were flashing through his mind: a woman screaming his name, a flash of green light, cold and high-pitched laughter, an old man with a long silver beard, a circle of people dressed in skull-like silver masks and long black robes, a small pale baby swathed in robes, and - pure hatred suddenly coursed through Harry's body, hatred for the world, for all who had mistreated him, for his aunt and uncle and Piers Polkiss and his teachers and his classmates - he wanted to kill them all, destroy them -

"Stop!" Harry cried out, and the hate and fury dissipated instantly. Shaken, he pulled himself out of the slippery bathtub, cold sweat running in rivulets down his back, and wrapped a towel around his waist as his uncle slammed the door open.

"What's all this racket?" Uncle Vernon shouted, his face red with irritation. He caught Harry's eye and his expression became oddly concerned. "Are you ill again, boy?"

Harry shoved his glasses onto his nose and looked at himself in the mirror. He was pale and trembling, and his scar stood out red and inflamed against his forehead. Touching a finger to it, Harry was relieved to find that it wasn't bleeding. He'd almost expected it to be. "I'm fine, Uncle Vernon," he answered, looking briefly at his uncle. "I'll be in the kitchen in just minute."

Uncle Vernon cast a suspicious look at Harry, then closed the door again. Harry held onto the counter, taking deep breaths watching the color come back into his cheeks as he wondered what the hell had just happened. He'd seen and heard some of those flashes before - the green light and laughter from his nightmares and the old man from his daydream during the assembly - but where did the other ones come from? Where did the hatred come from? Harry stared into his own eyes, frightened. He'd been angry before, infuriated, and resentful and bitter, but he'd never really hated anybody or anything so strongly. Did this happen because he had activated his magic, accepted it? The men in the dark robes and the bubbling cauldron had something do with witchcraft, Harry was sure of it. He wondered what Hermione had found in the library. Maybe she would know. Dressing quickly, Harry rummaged through his bag until he found the slip of paper with her number on it and stuck it into his pocket so that he could ring her up after dinner.

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"I couldn't find anything about magic, Harry," Hermione said, cradling the telephone receiver against her shoulder and looking down at her notes, which had only received one addition after her trip to the library. "One book mentioned a castle in Scotland that some of the locals liked to call 'Hogwarts.' Other than that, nothing."

"But it's out there somewhere," Harry insisted on the other line. "All of it. I know it." Lowering his voice, he told her about a shield he had made against the rain as well as some flashes of images and sounds that he'd experienced in the shower. "I don't know what they meant, but they had something to do with magic. I'm sure of it."

"I'll keep looking," she replied as she chewed her lip. "Maybe your aunt will know, though you'll be hard-pressed to find any answers from her."

"I'll try to talk to her," said Harry, sounding deflated. His voice suddenly became panicked. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hermione. Bye!" The dial tone suddenly hit her ear, and Hermione hung up the receiver, blinking at the abrupt end to their conversation. She'd spent three hours in the library searching through all of the books about magic, but there was absolutely no information about a wizarding school, current and modern magic, or any of the people mentioned in the letter. Hermione had never had such a frustrating research experience in her life, but it only made her more determined to find out more about the magical world.

From what Harry was saying, the more he used his magic, the more glimpses he had of the hidden world. Hermione contemplated whether she could also control her magic the same way Harry did. Walking upstairs to her room, she shut the door and sat on her bed, and after a moment of consideration, she turned off the light. When she was younger, she had always wished for a light so that she could read books under the covers. Maybe she could create some light using her hands.

Hermione frowned. She really had no idea how to go about this. Closing her eyes, she imagined a perfect round ball of light, glowing and pulsing in her hand. A strange warmth swelled up from the pit of her stomach and hit her shoulder, traveling down her arm slowly like pouring honey. Suddenly, her hand felt alive with something. With a gasp, Hermione opened her eyes. One of her fingernails was glowing. Well, it wasn't perfect, but at least it was something. She let out a breath that she hadn't known she was holding, and the light flickered and died. Hermione yawned suddenly, her eyes drooping as she suddenly felt very tired. Using magic must have used up all of her energy - she felt as exhausted as she had two nights ago on the front steps. Glad that she had already finished her homework, Hermione lay down on her bed and closed her eyes to fall asleep.

A loud ringing woke her. Hermione shot up out of bed, blinking. It was still dark outside, and a quick glance at her watch told her that she still had one hour to sleep before getting up to go to school. What on Earth was that noise? Why hadn't her parents awoken? Pulling on a dressing gown, Hermione padded downstairs to investigate the source of commotion. In the sitting room, the telephone was ringing loudly.

"Hello?" she said sleepily, picking up the phone.

"IS - THIS - HARRY - POTTER'S - HOUSE?"

Hermione jumped backward at the yelling and cautiously brought the phone back to her ear. "No, sir," she answered. "I'm afraid Harry Potter doesn't live here." She quickly held the telephone away from her in case the man decided to start yelling again. He did.

"DO YOU - KNOW WHERE - I CAN - FIND HIM?"

Hermione bit her lip. She didn't know who this man was, and she suspected Harry didn't either. "No, sir," she lied, feeling as if she were getting quite good at it, "I'm afraid you have the wrong number." She hung up the phone, troubled. Who would call at such an early hour? Why was the man looking for Harry and yelling? Why hadn't her parents heard the telephone as well? Was this something to do with magic?

Knowing that she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, Hermione busied herself with making breakfast for her parents, knowing that they would think it a nice surprise, her thoughts running in circles about magic, Harry, and Hogwarts.

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"What happened to you?" Harry asked Hermione as she walked into the form room with dark shadows under her eyes.

She smiled ruefully, pulling back her bushy hair into a plait. "Woken by the telephone. Someone was looking for you, actually."

"Me?" Harry asked, surprised. "Why would they call your house if -"

"I don't know," Hermione said quietly, shaking her head. "It was weird. It seemed like the man didn't know how to use a telephone, and my parents didn't wake up when it rang. I think it had something to do with magic. Did you find out anything about it from your aunt?" she whispered.

Harry shook his head, looking extremely irritated. "No. She refused to tell me another word. I know she's hiding something, but I don't know what."

"Maybe she'll tell you eventually, just like she did with the letters," said Hermione, biting her lip.

"Maybe," he said, "but I'd rather know now. I don't want any more incidents like the one in the shower yesterday." Color crept into Hermione's cheeks. "What is it?" asked Harry, bemused.

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head and turning her eyes to the front of the room where Mrs. Garbet had begun to take attendance. The thought of Harry in the shower made her feel just a little embarrassed.

The rest of the day passed quickly. Lina's frightening behavior from the previous day had subsided a bit, though during lunch she still insistently asked - or rather ordered - Harry to dance with her at Sara's holiday party. Unable to come up with a good refusal, he spluttered a bit before resigning himself to say "yes." Afterward, Sara smiled kindly and told him that she would make it a fast song so that he wouldn't have to look at Lina for too long. Hermione couldn't help but laugh at Harry's relieved expression.

With a sigh, Hermione pulled her textbooks out of her bag and began to revise furiously for the end-of-term mock exams in the following week. As tempted as she was to keep researching magic in the library, she knew that school and GCSEs should be her top priority right now. Fortunately, Witsford had been a little more advanced in their teachings than Stonewall, so she hadn't had much trouble in her lessons so far.

Two hours later, Hermione rubbed her eyes and yawned, going downstairs to the phone to ring up her old friends. She hadn't talked to them since she'd left London over a week ago. It was difficult to believe how different her life was now from when she'd first moved to Surrey. She had a group of girl friends, knowledge of magic, and someone to share that knowledge with - Harry. Picking up the phone, Hermione dialed the number of her best friend, Matthew.

"Hello?" a boy said on the other line.

"Hi, Matthew!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Hermione?" Matthew said, sounding disbelieving. "Hi! How are you?"

"I'm fine," said Hermione. "How are things at Witsford? How is Cecilia? Daniel? Richard?"

"Things are bad all over London, Hermione," Matthew answered slowly. "It's dangerous here. Those weird symbols have been popping up everywhere - I'm certain you've seen them, the skull with the snake as its tongue - and not even the police know where it's coming from. Random streets are getting attacked all the time - buildings just explode, and some people have been found dead with no cause. Our school - our neighborhood is safe so far, but nobody dares to venture outside past dark."

Hermione was silent, not sure how to respond.

"You're lucky that you left, Hermione," Matthew said, his voice strained. "I'm not saying that I'm glad you're gone - God knows I miss you, we all miss you so much. It's just - not safe anymore." His tone of voice changed suddenly. "How are you?" he asked with interest.

"I'm fine," said Hermione honestly, her heart aching slightly at his words. "I wanted to invite you to visit me in Surrey during the holidays. All of you. A new friend of mine is having a party next Saturday, and I'd be really happy if you could attend."

Matthew was silent for a moment. "I can't," he said bluntly. "I know Cecilia can't, either. I'm not sure about Daniel and Richard - it's been, ah, shaky between me and them lately. If the party were some other time, then maybe -"

Hermione quelled the disappointment radiating through her body. "It's fine," she said shortly. "I expect you and Cecilia have some other plans then?"

"Family," Matthew replied glumly. "My family wants to keep me trapped at home, especially with all of the crime in the city. Cecilia's, too, though she's better at convincing her parents that she needs to leave once in a while."

"And what happened between you and Daniel and Richard?"

"It's a long story," Matthew said in a small voice, which Hermione recognized immediately as his admission of guilt.

"What happened?" she asked. It was not a question.

"I - it's stupid. It involved one of Cecilia's compositions." Matthew went on to explain a tiff over the title of Cecilia's latest piece, which she had asked the boys to decide after performing it for them on the piano. Daniel and Richard had agreed on one title, while Matthew had insisted on another; soon they were arguing with each other over the merits of each title, while Cecilia sat and watched after they ignored her reminder that she, in fact, would decide on the final title.

Hermione shook her head as she listened. She and her friends had often fought over trifling issues, but they had always resolved it in some form or another. She told Matthew as much, trying to sound comforting. It had never been one of her strengths.

"Yeah," he admitted, grudgingly. "We'll sort it out. Cecilia's been cross with all three of us over the whole incident. She'll only answer questions that we ask her, but she refuses to talk to us otherwise. It's a complete mess."

"I wish I could be there to set you all straight," Hermione sighed. Cecilia was usually the one who mediated between the friends, but when she refused to do so, Hermione used to take over, even if she didn't do as good a job.

"I do too," Matthew said. "How is Surrey then? I hear you've made a new friend?"

Hermione quickly described her friendship with Harry, Katharine, Sara, and the rest of the group at the dining hall, careful to exclude any mention of Polkiss and magic. "It's so strange," she mused, "I've never had so many girl friends at once. Back home" - Hermione quickly corrected herself -"I mean, at Witsford, I always got on easier with boys than with girls. Here everything is so different."

"They're not quite friends yet, though, they seem more acquaintances of a sort," Matthew said. "Plus, you've only been there for a week. You've plenty more time to make friends with blokes. I expect they'll be swarming all over you by the time the summer hols come around."

Hermione shuddered - he'd just reminded her of rats, which reminded her of Piers Polkiss, and she usually liked to forget his existence when she was not in her maths lesson. "I'd rather not have them swarming, as you put it," she said, feeling slightly ill, "it reminds me of an infestation."

"All right," Matthew said, "I'm sorry. Look, Hermione - I have to run, my sister's been glaring at me for the past half hour because she was waiting her turn to use the phone. I'll let the others know about your party and have them ring you. What's your new phone number?"

Hermione told him, bid him farewell, and set the phone down, the conversation echoing in her head. Guilt and gratitude overcame her as she thanked her parents for moving them into Surrey, where the worst thing she had had to handle was a randy teenage bully. She mentally apologized to her friends. Although she still missed them dearly, she was secretly glad that she no longer attended school in London - the city was in a worse state than she'd thought. She'd been watching the newscasts religiously, of course, to check on the state of her old hometown, but the only thing they reported was the increased incidence of the snake-skull symbol. The newscasters had never said that people didn't leave their house at night now or that people were getting murdered. Hermione suspected that all of these strange happenings had something do with magic, but she couldn't find out until she did more research during the holidays.

With a shiver, Hermione tried and failed to turn her thoughts to the upcoming party, then she went downstairs to distract herself with the telly, which she knew would not be playing the news.