Rating:
PG-13
House:
Schnoogle
Characters:
Harry Potter Hermione Granger
Genres:
Romance Action
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire
Stats:
Published: 07/14/2001
Updated: 07/14/2001
Words: 121,492
Chapters: 15
Hits: 380,299

The Paradigm Of Uncertainty

Lori

Story Summary:
Nine years after graduating from Hogwarts, Charms fellow Hermione Granger again finds herself caught up in Harry Potter's mysterious life.

Chapter 06

Posted:
07/14/2001
Hits:
20,908

HARRY POTTER AND THE PARADIGM OF UNCERTAINTY

Chapter 6: Road Trips

Stunned silence met Fred's announcement, but before anyone could do or say a thing, the back door opened and George walked in, his face blank and befuddled.

"George!" Fred exclaimed, bounding across the kitchen to embrace his twin. "What the bloody hell...are you all right? What happened? You vanished right in front of my eyes!"

George shot Justin a significant glance, then looked back at Fred. "Why, that can't be, Fred...you must have turned away for just a second."

"The hell I did!" He didn't notice Justin quietly coming up behind him, his wand raised. "One second you were there and then 'poof' you were gone!" Justin was waving his wand back and forth, murmuring under his breath...a tendril of white fog was emanating from the tip of the wand. Suddenly he whipped it forward, tossing the tendril around Fred's head like a lassoo. Fred fell silent as the mist surrounded his face, then blinked in confusion as it dissipated. Everyone watched, holding their breath, as Fred reoriented himself. He looked at George and grinned. "Bloody great convention, George! Thanks for asking me along."

George nodded. "My pleasure. Thanks for coming."

"I must be off, then. Back to the tundra with me."

"Say hello to Charlie for me."

"Will do. Ta, everyone!" He waved cheerfully and left. George sank into one of the kitchen chairs.

"Nice work, Justin. You really ought to be on the Memory Charm Squad."

"That's what I keep telling my boss."

Everyone gathered around him. "But he wasn't seeing things, was he?" Harry said. "You really did vanish."

"I thought it best if he didn't remember...and I had to get rid of him so we could discuss this," George said.

"What happened?" Hermione said, sitting next to him, one hand on his arm.

He looked around at them, his eyes wide and confused. Harry was leaning over him, examining his eyeballs and taking his pulse. "I honestly don't know. One moment I was at the convention with Fred...the next, I was standing in the gazebo. According to this clock on the wall I was gone a full hour."

"Where were you?"

"I have no idea. I don't have any sense of that hour passing, it's as if I hopped right over it. My watch is an hour behind, too."

Hermione looked over at Harry. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

He nodded. "Probably." He sat back down, his face grim. "This was a warning, for me. It's a message from him..." He stopped short and cleared his throat. "I mean, from the dark forces. They're letting me know they can get to my friends anywhere, anytime."

"But what did they do to me?" George said. "I can't remember what happened..."

"Don't fret, George," Hermione said. "For you, nothing happened. It sounds like time travel to me." Harry was nodding.

"That's not possible," Justin said. "Doesn't time travel require a talisman?"

"Yes, it does," Harry said. "And there are very few legitimate talismans in existence."

"The ones that are authentic are closely guarded," Hermione went on. "You can imagine the chaos if time manipulation magic fell into the wrong hands, it's very carefully regulated."

"If they've found a way to perform time travel charms without a talisman it's not good news." Harry stood up. "I'm going to the office. I suddenly find myself with a great deal to do." He turned and walked out. Hermione rose and followed, catching him up in the second-floor living gallery.

"Harry," she hissed. He stopped and turned back. "This is bad, isn't it?"

"An understatement."

"Time travel could also explain how Allegra escaped."

"I know. She could have just jumped into the past by half an hour, before the containment charms were performed and then Apparated out." He crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head. "I didn't want to say it in front of the others, but this was more than just a warning. It was a threat."

She nodded. "I thought so." She put a hand on his arm. "But there are precautions we can take."

"And I intend to take them. I'm off to see to them now." He started to head to his room but she held him back.

"I'd like to help."

He hesitated, thinking. "All right. Let me get dressed and we'll go together."

**********

The moment they got to I.D. headquarters they were deluged with Baubel bubbles from other wizards, all talking at once, that flitted around them all the way to Harry's office. He held up his hands. "Quiet, all of you!" he said as Hermione shut his office door behind them. "One at a time!" He pointed to a sunny-orange Bubble. "This is Galino from Surveillance and Information Retrieval," he said to Hermione. "Go ahead, Galino."

"Harry, in the last week there's been an unusual level of activity. People moving, traveling, gathering. I have it on good authority that last night there was an emergency session of the Circle."

"The Circle?" Hermione said.

"Yes, Dr. Granger. A group of several dozen individuals who comprise what little there is of an organized power structure among those who follow the dark arts. The only qualification to be a member is the leverage and the stones to make other dark wizards do what you want."

"Was Sorry there? Or Allegra?" Harry asked.

"I don't think Sorry was there. As for Allegra...I'm not sure. Probably. We haven't been able to reacquire her since she escaped from Detention yesterday, but she's been at a number of Circle gatherings in the past few months."

"Do we know what went on at this emergency meeting?"

"No. Give me a few days, I'll round up some intelligence."

"All right. Dismissed." The orange bubble vanished. Harry pointed to a light mauve bubble. "That's Sabian." Hermione sat up straighter, eager to hear the voice of the famous as-yet-unseen Sabian. "What have you got for me?"

The voice that issued from the bubble was a throaty whisper, barely audible, and eerily uninflected. "Carlisle is now officially the bane of my existence. I've been on his trail for a week and I still haven't been able to catch so much as a glimpse of him. No one has ever eluded me this long." He sounded half embarrassed and half annoyed. "His name is suddenly everywhere, at times it seems as if it's even in the wind. The dark community is buzzing with talk and rumors about him, it's as if he just came out of the woodwork. They're even saying..." The man paused. "They're even saying he's taking Voldemort's place."

Harry glanced at Hermione, his expression dark. "Thanks, Sabian. Listen, you don't need to stay on..."

"I'm staying on his trail, Chief. It's like a vendetta now." The purple bubble winked out.

Harry sighed. "The rest of you...give me your reports, one at a time."

Silver bubble: "Someone tried to steal the Mayzelian Goblet this morning. The charms guarding it held up, but the thief was gone by the time the wizard guardian arrived. He doesn't know how the thief escaped."

"All right, you take a trip on down there and see what you can find out."

Periwinkle blue bubble: "One of our top double agents in the Circle is pretty sure she's being followed; she's afraid someone has broken her cover."

"Tell her to contact Infiltration and arrange to have herself written out immediately. We can't take the chance."

This went on for several minutes until all the bubbles had made their reports and been given their orders. Hermione watched Harry as he took care of this business, impressed. In this setting he exuded command and leadership, and the nameless wizards and witches on the other side of the bubbles accepted his orders without hesitation or question. When all the bubbles were gone he sat down.

"That all sounded pretty grim," she said.

"Welcome to my world," he said. "But you're not wrong." He pulled out a thick, leather-bound journal and began scribbling in it. "Most of those incidents fit the Pattern."

"Which ones don't? They all seemed Voldemort-esque to me."

"He wouldn't bother trying to steal the Mayzelian Goblet. It's an enchanted drinking glass that grants tremendous beauty to whomever drinks from it."

She frowned. "I thought I'd heard of every magical artifact known to man," she said.

"I'm sure you have. The Goblet is one of those items whose existence is kept quiet. But there's no reason Voldemort would want to steal it. The thief was probably hired for the job by Muggles who weren't quite sure what they were buying. It wouldn't be the first time." He sighed and closed the journal. "I'll never understand Muggles. It's not as though they could use the Goblet if they acquired it...how would they explain their appearance changing from one day to the next? Not to mention no one would believe that they were still themselves..." he mused, rubbing his chin. "But I digress."

"Do you have a library here?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, we have an excellent library down in Research." He smiled. "I should have known. The Hermione answer to any problem that comes up...hit the library."

She hmphed. "I seem to remember said library work saving our arses more than once. In this case, I want to do some research on time travel."

He nodded. "Good idea. I've got a thousand things to do at any rate. I'm going to put up some wards around the house and see about personal protection for you and the others. Bubble!" His royal blue bubble appeared. "This is Hermione," he said to the bubble. "As of now she is authorized to be here. You should obey her as you do me, understood?" The bubble did a little loop-the-loop, then hovered in front of Hermione's face as if awaiting instructions. "Well, what are you waiting for? Off you go!" he said.

Hermione jumped up. "Um...take me to the library?" she said to the bubble. It zoomed out the door and she followed closely, not wishing to lose sight of it and become lost.

The bubble led her through a seemingly endless series of corridors. Some were sterile and white-tiled, some were dungeon-like and lit with torches, some were industrial corrugated metal. She passed many doors with symbols on them. A death's head, a comedy-tragedy mask, an ouruborous...Hermione wondered about the wizards and witches who worked behind those doors. Baubel bubbles flitted here and there and a few times Hermione was almost sure she saw a corridor shift position once she turned the corner.

Finally the bubble led her down a long flight of stone stairs to an archway at the bottom. An elaborate wrought-iron gate stretched across the opening; it swung open as Hermione approached. She hesitated, edging through the gate trying to look everywhere at once.

The arch opened up into a tall, cavernous space that echoed and soared like a cathedral. Comfortable chairs and lounges were scattered about along with desks and reading tables...but no bookshelves or any evidence that this was a library at all. Thinking she'd better make sure she was in the right spot, Hermione turned around and almost walked right into a small person standing directly behind her. It was a young girl, no more than 10, clothed in flowing robes so white they seemed to glow with platinum hair spilling over her shoulders in a silken river. Her face was angelic yet bore the stamp of wisdom; her crystal-blue eyes were older than the rest of her. "Hello," she said in a low, silken voice.

Hermione smiled down at her. "Are you lost?"

The girl smiled back; Hermione was amazed to find herself on the receiving end of a patronizing smile from a girl less than half her age. "I'm the Librarian, Dr. Granger."

She didn't bother asking how this girl knew her name any more than she bothered wondering how she'd gotten behind her without being seen. "I see. I wasn't quite sure this room was the library. Where are all the books?"

The Librarian glided past her and slipped behind a large mahogany desk at the center of the room. "Ask for what you want and it will come to you," she said.

Hermione stepped to the desk. "You don't have a catalog?"

That patronizing, humoring-the-newcomer smile again. "We don't need one. You may request any book ever written." The Librarian reached under her desk and drew out a large leather-bound ledger. "Write your name on the first blank page, then write down the names of the books you'd like. I will assign you a reading room and the books will come to you." She held out a long peacock-feather quill.

Hermione flipped through the book...she paused along the way at the page with "Harry Potter" written at the top. Below the name was a long list of books in Harry's slanted, spiky handwriting; books on a wide variety of subjects from defensive charms to wand materials...and, to her amusement, swing dancing. She found a blank page and wrote her name at the top, wondering if anything would ever seem odd to her again.

**********

When George Weasely decided to make soup stock, he didn't mess around. All six burners of his large gas range were occupied with huge soup kettles merrily bubbling away: two beef, two chicken, one vegetable and one mushroom. He dipped a small piece of bread into one of the kettles of beef stock, tasted it, and added more salt. He looked up at the sound of footsteps in the hallway; a few seconds later Laura walked into the kitchen, grinning.

"Behold the glory that is me," she said, bowing and blowing kisses at an imaginary audience.

"And what gloriousness have you accomplished today, Your Highness?" George said, rummaging in the closet for ice cube trays to freeze the stock when it was finished.

Laura sat down at the kitchen table, shrugging out of her jacket. "I managed to get Marian Zapata-Rossa, the President of the Southern Pacific Magical Congress, to take a meeting with Fudge, something she swore she'd be dead before she'd ever do."

"Congratulations. Why do we care?"

"Until the SPMG drastically improves its relations with the Ministry, we won't have any power as members of the Federation. If Fudge and Marian can improve their relationship, and really there's nowhere to go but up, it will be good for us."

George sat down, opening his briefcase. "This is all fascinating, but shouldn't you be at work?" He began to sort an untidy pile of business cards into a small file box.

"I came home for a celebratory lunch. What's in the fridge?" She got up to see for herself.

"Uh...nothing very celebratory. I think there's some sandwich fixings."

Laura fished out lunchmeat and pickles, grabbing a loaf of bread and some mustard from the pantry and coming back to the table. "What are you up to, besides making enough soup stock for the House of Commons?"

"I'm trying to organize all my contact information. Hopeless, really, but I've at least got to make the attempt."

They fell silent for a few moments. "What's Hermione been on about lately?" she finally asked.

George looked up. "How do you mean?"

"She's been acting...I don't know, strange."

"Things have been a tad strange for everyone lately, wouldn't you say? Let's not forget that it was me who lost an entire hour yesterday."

"An experience I don't envy, but you don't seem any the worse for it."

"Not so far. How am I to know what long-term detrimental effects I might suffer? Suppose I die an hour early to make up for it!"

Laura thought a moment. "If you had to make up for it, wouldn't that mean you'd die an hour late?"

"Hardly the point. It's not right for dark wizards to go about tossing people back and forth in time."

"We're getting a little off the subject here. I'm concerned about Hermione. You know her better than I do."

"I seriously doubt that."

Laura thought for a moment, her face screwed up in thought. "Can I ask you...about Ron?"

George looked up from his business cards, his usual jovial expression falling from his face to leave it strangely naked. "What do you want to know?" he said quietly.

"Do you think Hermione loved him?"

He bit his lip. "I don't know. Why don't you ask her?"

"I have. She gave me a typically cryptic answer."

George picked up the cards again. "You want to know what I think? I don't think Hermione is too well acquainted with the workings of her own emotions, nor is she terribly inclined to pay attention to where they're leading her."

Laura peered at him through narrowed eyes for a moment. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Probably, but where are we going to find hip-waders in the middle of the countryside?"

"Be serious."

He sighed. "It's really none of our business."

"This Gerald bloke is all wrong for her."

"Something she's entitled to decide for herself, I believe."

"Just imagine it, George. Imagine her marrying Gerald, McGonagall performing the ceremony, his fluffy puppy dog Spot as the best man, Harry standing there as the person of honor when all of a sudden he just bursts into flame and disintegrates into ashes out of sheer misery."

"You know, until you said that I really didn't think there was much to that theory about the damage done to people who eat beef raised with bovine growth hormone."

"You like to make jokes when the conversation turns serious, don't you?"

"It passes the time. And you clearly have too much time on your hands in which to think wild and crazy thoughts about our roommates that have no basis in reality."

"No, George. 'Doctor Who' has no basis in reality. This is different."

"What's different? I don't even have any idea what you're on about!"

"No one does. I'm the wind, baby." She sighed and took a big bite of her sandwich.

**********

Hermione sat in her little reading room in the library with stacks of books all around her and a notebook full of scribbled bits and pieces of research. The room wasn't what she'd been expecting, she'd been in her share of libraries and study rooms were always spare tiny walled sensory deprivation chambers with one table and a few chairs. This was a comfortable solarium-style room, though she was damned if she knew where the sunlight was coming from given that they were underground. It was exquisitely decorated in sunny Southern California style with greenery and comfortable rattan furniture. Half of her brain was engaged in her task to learn more about time manipulation magic, but the other half was thinking about Sorry. Could he really be evil? she thought. I don't believe it. But Harry's right, I don't know him from anyone, for all I know he could be evil. But Laura's smart, I have to think she'd at least have an inkling that his loyalties were shifting so dramatically.

"There's only one thing to do," she finally whispered. She folded up her notes and looked around, wondering if she were supposed to return these books. "Umm...bubble?" she said, hesitant, but Harry's blue bubble appeared at once. "Harry?"

"Yes?"

"I'm done down here, I'm going to head back to the Institute."

"Oh. All right. I uh...I guess I'll see you at home."

"Can I Apparate out from here?"

"No, the building is protected with wards. Just have the bubble lead you back to the main entrance, once you're past the security field you can Apparate back to your office."

"All right. See you later." She did as he suggested and within fifteen minutes she was in her office at the Institute. "Stella?" she said to the air.

'Yes?" came her secretary's voice in return.

"I'm going to the Ministry, I'll be back in an hour or so."

"All right."

Hermione grabbed her broom out of its corner and opened the glass door that gave on to her small balcony. She swung one leg over the railing, positioned her broom and was off. She flew for ten minutes or so, swerving carefully behind stands of trees and around hills so as not to be spied by Muggles, and finally arrived at the Ministry headquarters. Settled in the foothills just outside London, it was invisible to Muggle eyes but to any wizard or witch it appeared as it was, a large white marble building in the design of a modern castle. Broomsticks flitted here and there, and owls came and went from the Ministry's many windows. Hermione landed in the busy courtyard, waving to a few people who greeted her. Leaving her broom in the public shed, she walked quickly through the main gates into the spacious marble-and-silver entrance hall. She'd been here many times and knew her way around; she trotted up a nearby staircase, smiling at the wizard tourists visiting from out of town.

At the top of the stairs she went down the corridor until she came to a large set of double doors labeled "Enforcement Squad, 12th Precinct." The wizarding world was far less populous than the Muggle world, here, the 12th Precinct covered most of Western Europe and Scandinavia. She pushed open the doors and entered the squadroom.

Hermione had been in Muggle police stations before and she always marveled at how the corresponding wizarding facility was both identical and completely different. The same groupings of desks bearing wizard's names on small plaques, the same enforcers hurrying hither and yon as if every second counted, the same enclosed office where the superior officer held court...and yet the differences were numerous. Instead of constantly ringing phones, owls came and went in a steady stream. Instead of guns and badges, the enforcers wore their wands in hip holsters and anti-curse Enforcer's bands around their wrists.

"Can I help you?" said the duty officer, a young wizard in a dark purple cloak.

"Oh, yes. I need to see Detective Longbottom."

"Name?"

"Dr. Hermione Granger."

"Do you have an appointment? Detective Longbottom is very busy."

"I don't, but...I'm an old school friend, from Hogwarts."

"I see. Well...all right, go on back. Do you know the way? It's straight down the hall, you'll see the door."

Hermione thanked the young man and followed his directions to the door in question, it was labeled "E.S. Detectives." She went through cautiously, but on the other side was just a hallway with doors set every ten feet or so. She started down the hall, reading the names on the placards on the doors, until she came to one labeled "N. Longbottom." She rapped on the frosted glass panel. "Come in!" came a voice.

She opened the door, smiling. Her old friend, Neville Longbottom, was sitting behind a desk in shirtsleeves, tie and vest. He beamed a wide smile when he saw her. "Hermione!" he exclaimed, standing up. He came around the desk, a dapper little man with a round pink face and a rapidly receding hairline. "This is a pleasant surprise!" He clasped her hand and stood on tiptoe to kiss her cheek.

"Hello, Neville. Nice to see you again. It's been quite a few months, hasn't it?"

"Yes, it has!" He motioned her into a chair in front of his desk, returning to his own seat. "How's Harry?"

"Oh, he's fine," she said, keeping her tone even. "And George and Justin and Cho, all fine. They say hello." She smiled, motioning to the office and all its trappings. "I must say, Neville, you've certainly done well for yourself. I'm still amazed you became an Enforcer."

He flushed. "Believe me, I couldn't make Detective fast enough. I was never much good at magic, and I wasn't any better at attack magic, though over the years I did at least acquire competency. I am good at detective work. Quite good, as it turns out. My superiors knew this and they cut me a lot of slack as an Enforcer so I could work my way up to this level as quickly as possible. Here, I depend less on magic and more on this," he said, tapping his forehead. "And despite what my grandmother might say, there's nothing wrong with my brain."

Hermione grinned. "I'm glad for you. Anything exciting to report from the world of law and order?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary. I'm currently working a homicide that occurred a few days ago in Bonn and a string of attempted thieveries in the south of France along with various other matters that land on my desk. It keeps me busy." He folded his hands on his desk and regarded her across its three feet of mahogany. "But I don't suppose you came here to discuss my workday activities. What can I do for you?"

She sighed. "I need a favor, and I need you to keep it between us. Can you do that?"

He nodded. "Yes, I think I can just about manage that. Sounds very mysterious."

"I need to know if a certain person has ever been in trouble with the law."

Neville nodded again, slowly, mulling this request over. "Can I ask why you need this information?"

"I'm...I'm trying to decide something. It could be very important. I'm afraid I can't say anything more than that."

A slow smile spread across Neville's face. "You two are up to something again, aren't you? Always another adventure." Hermione said nothing. "But you can't say anything more about it."

"No, I really can't."

Neville thought for a moment, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notebook. "What's this person's name?"

Hermione sat forward in her chair. "His name is Sorenson Carlisle, called Sorry by friends. He's a member of the Southern Pacific Magical Congress and he's been recently working in Greenland."

Neville took this information down, nodding. "All right," he said, standing up. "I'll see what I can find out. Wait here, I'll be back in a few minutes." He moved past the desk to the door.

"Thanks, Neville." He nodded and left the room. Hermione sat and looked around Neville's office. It was a comfortable size with large windows that offered a lovely view of the hills beyond the Ministry. The walls were hung with a few artfully framed prints, Neville's diplomas from Hogwarts and the Enforcer Academy, his Detective's certificate, and an award from the Global Association of Enforcers for Meritorious Achievement. On a shelf behind his desk were some framed photographs...she recognized his wife Amelia and his young daughter, a photo of their own graduating class from Hogwarts, and various other friends and family members. Neville's leading a normal life, she thought. He has a family and a home and a normal job. Why can't I have a normal life?

Before she could even begin to ponder this question the door opened and Neville came back, bearing a sheet of parchment. He resumed his place behind his desk. "Well, I ran your friend's name through our records. According to this he's never been in any kind of trouble...he's never even gotten a proximal Muggle warning."

Hermione shook her head. "Never? I've gotten six!"

"Nine for me. It's the rare wizard that can go through his life and keep his magical activities completely segregated from the Muggles that surround us but he's managed to do it, probably because he seems to keep to scarcely populated areas. There's no indication he's ever been detained or questioned in connection with any crime, he's never violated wizarding laws, he's never been suspected of aiding and abetting the dark forces." He handed her the parchment. "What it does say is that he's received numerous commendations from a wide variety of wizarding societies for his work to benefit the environment and for humanitarian work he's done in New Zealand and Australia. Whoever this chap is, he sounds like a bloody saint."

Hermione nodded, rolling up the parchment. "Thanks. This was more helpful than you know."

He shrugged. "I'm not sure what this is about, Hermione."

"Don't concern yourself about it. You just helped me make the decision I would probably have made anyway." She smiled. "I'll see you again soon, Neville. Come by the house sometime and bring your family, George will roast a turkey and we'll revel in our Snape-free adult lives."

He stood up, grinning. "That sounds lovely, thank you. You take care of yourself, Hermione. And tell Harry to get himself a real job, won't you? He can't be a gentleman of leisure all his life."

**********

Later that night at her safe desk in her safe bedroom in the safe stone edifice that was the oh-so-predictable Bailicroft, Hermione sat staring at a blank piece of parchment before her, quill in hand. She was having a rather heated argument with herself.

Are you really going to do this? It certainly seems so. You know it's insane. It could be dangerous. I don't care, I have to know the truth. It's Harry's job to find the truth, not yours. The truth is everybody's job, and he's already made up his mind. If he finds out you're doing this on your own and behind his back he's not going to be happy. I'll just have to risk it.

She nodded, her decision made, picked up the quill and began to write.

Dear Sorry, [she wrote]

I don't know if Laura has mentioned me, I'm her roommate Hermione. I'm writing to you because I'm concerned and I don't want her to get hurt.

I know a lot of people in high places, people who are in a position to know things that other people may not know. I've been hearing things that concern me, things about you. I won't elaborate, I'm sure you know what I'm talking about.

I'm trying not to believe them. I don't want to believe them. I know that Laura knows nothing of this, and I also know that she loves you.

I want to meet you. I want to see for myself what kind of man you are. I'm aware that this request sounds presumptuous but I cannot sit by while events that concern you and Laura unfold around me.

I am not afraid of you. If you are what people are saying that you are, you should know that I'm perfectly capable of defending myself. If you are not, then you won't take offense at any precautions I might take.

Meet me in Hogsmeade at the Three Broomsticks, tomorrow at eight o'clock in the evening. If you are not there, then I will be forced to make the logical inference.

Sincerely, Hermione Granger

She quickly folded up the note and hurried down the stairs, looking around, not wishing to be seen. She quickly tied the note to Faust's leg and sent him off, exhaling in relief as he flew away. You're insane, she said to herself. He could drag you off and kill you and no one would know until the smell of your body drifted into the street. That bit about defending herself was a colossal bluff, but Hogsmeade was entirely populated by wizards and he'd have a hard time killing her in the Three Broomsticks in the middle of after-dinner rush.

She went upstairs to her room, not feeling much like communing with her roommates tonight. She didn't know if she could sit there and look him in the face all evening without giving something away.

**********

Harry came home at seven the next evening, earlier than he'd planned. He walked in the door, looking around, and began checking the rooms on the ground floor looking for Hermione. He'd sent several owls to her office over the course of the day and hadn't received a reply; when he'd finally owled her secretary she'd informed him that Hermione had taken a personal day.

"Hermione?" he called, going into the kitchen. Justin was making tea. "Have you seen Hermione?"

"No," he said, puzzled at Harry's urgency. "She's not usually home from work yet."

"She didn't go to work today, you haven't seen her?"

"No! If she didn't go to work, then where did she go when she left this morning?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Harry grumbled. He left the kitchen and ran up the stairs, hesitating only a moment before going into her bedroom. He stood in the center, turning in a circle and looking around the room with no idea was it was he was looking for. He couldn't shake the feeling that Hermione needed him, that something was wrong.

He went to her neatly made bed, laying one hand on the down comforter and looking at the pictures on her walls. He stepped to her closet and threw open the door. Her clothes were hung neatly on their rods and pegs. A pile of clean sweaters sat on the floor waiting to be put away. He closed the door and stood there on the rug, his hands on his hips. His eyes fell on her desk, an elegant Victorian ladies' writing table. On its surface were some sheets of parchment and a quill...the quill was lying across the parchment instead of standing up in its holder where it belonged. He went and sat in her chair, his hands folded in his lap, and stared at the desktop.

You sat here last night, he thought. What did you do? Did you write to someone? He eyed the quill, lying mute and still on its side.

He raised his hand over the quill. "Relocum transcriptae," he murmured. The quill rose off the desktop, dipped itself in the inkwell, lowered to the bottom of the page and began to write backwards, replicating in reverse its most recent movements. He watched as the words "Hermione Granger" appeared at the bottom, then "Sincerely,"...his eyes widened as the rest of the message unfolded before his eyes.

"Oh, bloody hell," he whispered.