The Corpse behind the Hourglass

The year was 1700. It was well past midnight and a blustery storm was at its peak out of doors.... both facts which Nicolas Flamel took no note of. Deep in the midst of another one of his fascinating (his wife called them "useless") discoveries, he was oblivious to all else.

Knocking repeatedly on the door to her husband's study until her knuckles were sore, Perenelle had given up on ever getting his attention and was about to slip Nicolas's dinner under the door when Nicolas came flying out of it as if propelled by the wind whistling around the frame of the house.

His eyes had the look of one possessed by maniac energy as he rushed past her into the hall, holding a collection of ancient manuscripts with a grip of triumph.

He went bounding down the hall and she could hear him shouting to no one in particular."I've solved it!I solved it!"

Perenelle waited for him to circle back to the study, her hands still on the tray of food. Sure enough, a few minutes later, after running through much of the house, Nicolas came back to the study and spotted his wife standing there.

He picked his surprised wife up effortlessly by the waist and spun her around, sending to the floor with a clatter the tray of food she had been holding.

"Nell,dear, I've come up with the spell to command time itself! So deceptively simple. Can't believe I didn't figure it out sooner-just cut the root number of pie in half and divide it by the number of years, substituting a letter of the alphabet for each one..."

Perenelle gave her biggest smile, having automatically stopped listening after the word "simple".

"That's wonderful, darling."

Nicolas smiled back at her. "Oh, I just can't wait until I show this idea to Dumbledore!"

* * * * *

A day later at Hogwarts, Dumbledore was reading the small book on Nicolas Flamel's findings on the warping of time with both doubt and curiosity. Nicolas watched the light shining off of Dumbledore's red hair as he read, practically biting his fingernails with anxiety.

This was what he had spent nearly half of his thirty years developing! If Dumbledore thought it was good enough, he had the contacts to get it printed...something far beyond the not quite as influential Nicolas Flamel's grasp.

Setting his spectacles down at last, Dumbledore spoke. "Interesting-not completely believable- but interesting."

"Not completely believable on paper perhaps, but I assure you, this is the revolution that will take the magical world by storm."

Nicolas Flamel was desperate to prove his worth to his older counterpart and exaggerated the worth of his experiments ever so slightly in order to do it. So what if a few kinks still had to be worked out of the spell?The important thing was it worked, right?

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled dangerously behind his glasses at Nicolas Flamel's reply.

"Indeed? Then I beg you to demonstrate."

Nicolas had no choice but to do so, chanting the spell in subdued tones as that indescribable thing known as magic began to take place.

In the same room at Hogwarts, two hundred years later, a much more ancient Dumbledore glared at a much more ancient Nicolas Flamel.

"What in the name of Merlin just happened?"

* * * * *

Skipping over the milestones and other less important things that transgressed in the following one hundred and some years, the year was 2010.

On 2223 Cumberland Ave., Hermione woke up to an acute pounding headache to accompany the pains in her stomach. She rolled over from where she had fallen asleep on her side, the springs creaking alarmingly as she did so.

Hermione gave a worried glance towards the still form of Harry beside her, but he didn't move nary a muscle and continued sleeping peacefully.

Reassured, Hermione pushed back the quilted covers and tried to sit up slowly. Flailing her arms to try and help her get momentum, she struggled into a sitting position and was nearly pushed back out of it as a spasm of pain greeted her stomach.

She grimaced. Sure she wanted to have a child with Harry...but if she had realized just exactly how being pregnant felt....

Following the pain in her stomach was another bout of pain in her head. Looking across the mounds and folds of blankets, Hermione found herself eye to eye with a regal owl, its' peak posed to peck her again if need be.

Walking unevenly across the length of the bed, it dropped a letter in Hermione's lap. She rubbed her throbbing head as she ripped open the letter ill naturedly.

Ugh. Why does the wizarding community have to use owls...why? It could have been pigeons or doves- nice non violent creatures. But owls?

The owl gave Hermione another peck on the forehead in reply.

"Yes, yes, you nosy owl, you've delivered your mail...now get!"

Hermione swatted at the owl unevenly with one hand, but the owl wouldn't "get". It began flying around her in circles, hooting and molting feathers all over the place. "Oh."

Groping in the dark over to the bed stand table with one hand, she felt for a small, rectangular object and brought it back to the bed.

Unzipping it, she counted out ten sickles and dropped them in to the pouch around the owl's neck.

Hooting again, this time with what Hermione supposed was its' thanks, the owl soared off through the one opened window in the house.

Harry, undisturbed by the ruckus, continued to snore by Hermione's left side. With the bird gone, Hermione finally had a chance to read the contents of the letter in her lap. The letter read like an invitation to a formal tea party.

Dear Mr. And Mrs. Potter, we are delighted to invite you to a Hogwarts reunion of the graduating class of 2004. It will take place on October the thirty-first through December the first.

This is a chance to mingle with your old classmates and talk to a few of our new students here at Hogwarts.Please send an owl right away if you will be able to attend so that we can prepare rooms for your stay.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore,

Headmaster at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry

P.S. We know Mrs. Potter is a teacher at another wizarding school of importance, but in spite of the rivalry between the two schools, we could not wish anyone but our old head girl to be present.

Hermione couldn't help but give a little yelp of excitement. Of course they would go!No way was she going to pass up a chance to visit with her old classmates!

Everyone who had graduated with her from Hogwarts had been spread apart by their various professions. Hermione hadn't gotten to see most of the other students(except for Harry, of course, and occasionally Ron) since the end of her eighth year.

Shaking her husband roughly by both shoulders, Hermione woke up Harry to tell him the news. It took a good ten or so shakes before Harry stared at her bleary eyed, still half asleep.

"What's d'matter?" he mumbled, covering a yawn behind one hand.

"Oooh, Harry, We got a letter from Hogwarts asking us to a reunion! Just imagine...I wonder if Neville still sleeps with a blankey?"

Hermione waved the piece of paper in front of his face. It, along with everything else in Harry's view, swam before his eyes.

"That's nice dear" Harry said in monotone. Hermione looked at him like a little kid begging for sweets.

"I know you're worried about the pregnancy and all, but can't we still go?...pleeeasseee?"

Harry, in response half drooled something undecipherable. His body went limp in Hermione's hands. Harry was back to being fast asleep and snoring; as loudly as a train with the regularity of an ambulance siren.

"I guess that' s a yes then" Hermione muttered to herself, dropping Harry back into the pillows and tucking the blankets under him.

She scribbled out a hasty reply to Dumbledore's letter. Half rolling, half stepping awkwardly out of bed, she opened Hedwig's cage and tied the letter to the owl's leg.

Hopping(or as best as anyone can hop when they're pregnant) back into bed, Hermione gazed at her husband fondly. The man slept like a rock. Two hours later, he would be up and about, having no idea he had just agreed for his seven months pregnant wife to go with him to a reunion at Hogwarts.

Harry was overprotective sometimes. He never would have agreed for Hermione to come with him if he had heard a word she had been saying. IF. She might as well have been talking about the current affairs of Antarctica for all he understood.

Smiling craftily, Hermione allowed herself to drift back to sleep with Harry.

She was reawakened a few all too short hours later by the blasting of the Wizard's Wireless Weekly (the only alarm Harry could ever wake up to.)

Harry awoke beside her and scooted closer to give her a butterfly kiss.

"Good morning."

"Mmm."

Hermione tried, but as much as she exerted herself, she just simply couldn't get out of the high four poster bed unto the floor with the same ease she had earlier that morning.

"Ugh. I swear, the baby has grown overnight" Hermione grunted. "Mind helping me out here, Harry?"

"No problem."

Quickly springing out of bed with an ease Hermione envied, Harry walked over to the other side of the bed and helped her stand upright, grunting a good deal himself with the effort.

"You know, Herm...I think you may be right. You do seem heavier."

Hermione snickered. "How flattering of you to say so, Harry."

Her laughing attitude quickly turned towards tears. "Do you really think I'm..." she sniffed, "fat?"

Harry laughed, pressing her close to him in a reassuring bear hug. "Of course not! You're pregnant, silly, not fat...." "But I would love you just the same if you were," he ad-libbed, seeing Hermione's eyes beginning to water again. She stayed in his arms for a little while, enjoying the feeling of comfort and trying to fight the other feeling that always accompanied it in a lesser degree...the feeling that everything was just a little too perfect. That maybe Harry was a little too perfect...didn't he ever get angry or upset or worried?

Were all women so emotional when they became pregnant, Harry wondered, watching as Hermione's personality once again switched back to being sunny side up.

Her voice came muffled through her clothing as she changed into a sundress.

"Harry, do you remember me telling you anything from last night?"

"Nope" was the just as muffled reply as Harry changed into his robes.

Hermione finished fastening the buttons on her sundress. "To refresh your memory, take a look at the floor."

She pointed a finger at the feathers that had belonged to the owl from Hogwarts still drifting lazily about in the early morning light.

"Oh that". Harry shrugged. "Guess we'll have to buy a new bedspread then. This feather one must be falling apart."

Hermione gave him her best impression of McGonagall's imposing glare. "Do you have any idea how many birds died to make that blanket?"

Harry's voice came from around the set of stairs as he walked down them to the kitchen. "Probably the same ones Crookshanks ate."

* * * * *

By the time Hermione had managed to maneuver herself downstairs (no easy feat considering the stairs were extremely narrow and she at the moment was about the width of a half a table) Harry was checking the mail from his owl, Hedwig.As soon as he saw her, he stood up.

"Ready to go grab a bite to eat?"

Hermione shook her head. A genius plan had formed itself there. What did wives always do when they wanted to weedle their husbands into something? Give them a compliment or do something for them, usually in that exact order. While making a fancy breakfast herself might not make Harry bounce off the walls happy, it might puthim in a better mood. A better mood that would stay when she oh so casually slipped the news that hewould not only have to quite work without a day's notice to go to an old school reunion, his wife would be coming along as well; pregnant and all.

"No going out to eat for breakfast today. I'm cooking" Hermione said firmly in a voice that she hoped would remain when she told him of the reunion.

She stretched on her tippytoes to peer into the cupboards. Now where was that frying pan? She was positive she put it somewhere...Oh well, she'd just have to use a small cooking pot as a substitute. You could cook bacon in pots as well...couldn't you?

Hermione banged open a few more cupboards searching for more utensils to help along her cooking.

Harry was watching from the kitchen doorway with apprehension. He didn't dare venture inside. The new magical stove and kitchware combined with his wife was a very hazardous combination.

"Good god, Hermione. You're going to COOK?"

"What on earth is wrong with my cooking?" Hermione demanded, accidentally waving her wand at him. Small blue flames sprouted from it. Harry backed up from the doorway a little bit more.

"Oh absolutely nothing dear. Now while you're getting out that frying pan, would you mind handing me the mobile phone on the counter?"

Hermione obliged, handing Harry the phone. Thanks to Hermione and Harry both having been brought up as muggles before they went to Hogwarts, the house was a clash of muggle and magical things.

"Why do you need it?"

Harry looked at her dead serious.

"To call the fire department. Just to be on the safe side. Something I must remind you, your cooking does NOT have."

Hermione sighed. Her cooking was the reason both she and Harry were on a first name basis with the local fast food joint and the coffee shop. In spite of being adept at everything magical, Hermione's grasp of cooking-with or without wand- was admittedly a wreck.

"Of course it's not exactly easy to cook when I'm distracted" Hermione said prissily, looking right at him.

"Okay Madame chef. Don't worry, if you bump into a sharp corner from trying to get around a kitchen that can barely fit a stove, I'll come running." He gave her a cheeky wink and walked off.

Hermione began swishing her wand back and forth over a boiling potof oatmeal as she zoned out dreamily to do something she didn't do all that often...think about her marriage to Harry.

Mostly there wasn't much to think about. Being married to Harry wasn't exactly exciting or passionate. It was-there was no other word for it-comfortable. Harry, Hermione, and Ron's lives were now, without Voldemort popping up every year to try and kill them, quite ordinary. Yes, marriage to Harry was comfortable...basically spending twenty fours hours a day with your best friend. He knew pretty much everything about her and she knew everything about him. And maybe that was all love was anyway.

A sudden sharp feeling of pain greeted Hermione's hand, reminding her of the task at hand. She turned on the sink quickly and ran it under cold water for a few seconds. Still sucking on it, she took the pot off the stove, separated the substance into two bowls, and then took them both to the living room.

Hermione beamed radiantly at Harry. "Tada...first course!"

Harry took one look at the mushy, undistinguishable contents in the bowl and grimaced. Hermione's face turned slightly red.

"Umm...well...at least it isn't pink this time."

Harry snorted into his cup of coffee. "I dunno-what is it? Maybe it's supposed to be pink."

Hermione hit him on the head with her wand, causing a strange stripe of green to appear unintentionally. "What does it look like?"

Harry made a face at her while rubbing his head ruefully. "I have a feeling if I want to keep from getting a bump the size of an ostrich egg, I had better not say."

"Harry, stop making such a big deal out of this, I cook perfectly-" Hermione took one spoonful of the oatmeal and made a face similar to Harry's. Maybe cooking wasn't such a good idea. She should have just stuck with reasoning with him to let her come along. Of the two things, she was much better at the latter.

"Well, the bacon will be good at least" she finished as Harry gave her a look that said "I told you so!". She came back with the tray of bacon to find Harry's oatmeal bowl empty. Hermione's eyes went straight to Crookshanks’dish and sure enough, the cat was gulping down heaps of gray soggy stuff complacently.

"HARRY!"

Harry grinned. "Crookshanks seems to have a healthy appetite this morning, doesn't he?"

"You have a good picture of your Aunt Marge when you blew her up? Good. 'Cause that's probably what Crookshanks is going to look like if he finishes that stuff."

"I wouldn't worry about it. The cat's a trashcan on four legs, aren't you Crookshanks?"Harry reached down to scratch the cat between the ears. It purred at him.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I won't say anything about the trash can comment, but only because you're actually petting Crookshanks instead of trying to shoo him out the cat door for once."

"For once. Only once. The minute the thing so much as tries to jump in my lap or miss the litter box on "accident", he's back to spending some quality time with the yard gnomes."

Harry crunched down a few pieces of bacon and gulped some coffee in a hurry. He stood up halfway.

"Well, I'm off to work. See you la-"

He never got a chance to finish. Hermione went around the table and pushed her husband back down into his chair. She decided to tell him of the reunion in her best no-nonsense-I'm coming if I have to ride your broomstick tone.

"No you're not."

Harry was puzzled. "I'm not. Umm...why?"

"Because" Hermione took a deep breath and said her words slowly. "Because Hogwarts is having a reunion and it's today and I'm going with you."

Harry, without realizing it, dunked his peice of bacon in his coffee. "WHAT?"

"Dumbledore sent an owl last night and I sent him an owl back saying we should go,so-"

Harry finished his last strip of soggy bacon and sighed in defeat. "So another words, you're coming if you have to filch my broomstick and ride it yourself."

Sometimes he understood her a little too well. It was spooky. Like he could read her thoughts or something.

"Yup. Ready to go?"