Casus Belli

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Casus Belli

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Chapter One: The Letter

"Well she wrote me a letter,

Said she couldn't live without me no more

Listen Mister can't you see

I got to get back to my baby once more

Anyway, yeah"

Joe Cocker; "The Letter"

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Ring.

"You've got to be joking me..."

Ring.

A bushy head appeared from under the luxurious pile of sheets. "All right, all right, I'm bloody coming already!"

Hermione Granger extracted herself from her bed sheets, eyes full of sleep and mind heavy with lack of it. Careful to avoid the mess she had left on the floor the night prior, the twenty-one-year old maneuvered herself to the bathroom's half-opened door and wheedled out her silk bathrobe and pulled it on while heading toward the front door.

Ring.

"I'm coming already!"

Groaning out loud, Hermione grabbed the brass doorknob heatedly, and shoved the doorframe right into the rather tall body of her coworker, Dave. The blue-eyed man crumbled over slightly, faking an injury, keeping to a long-running joke between himself and his female coworker that she was stronger than he.

"Dave! What on earth are you doing here so early?" Hermione asked, resting her hand on her hips, lips slightly pouted. "I've only been sleeping for three hours, and you told me that I could come in late today because I worked nights last week!"

The tall redhead shook his head. "Sorry love, but something huge has come up."

Hermione raised her eyebrow. "Do go on before I pound you."

"Marianne Bradley isn't just going for partial custody anymore." Dave moved inside the living room, flopping down on the nearest chesterfield and gesturing for Hermione to do the same. "Apparently somebody..." Dave pointed rather portentously to himself, "told the old bag that she could file for more child support if she took on the kids full-time. She's been up at the office since three fucking AM filling out new case papers. Wallace is absolutely salivating over the numbers she's willing to pay to get you as her attorney."

The brown-haired girl smiled slightly, inclining slightly forward, clearly intrigued by these words. "How much more are we talking about, Dave?"

Dave glanced at his fingernails in an ostentatious sort of way, eyes flashing deeply. "Oh, only double the commission you were originally going to get." Hermione's eyes bugged out. "Oh, and then if you actually win the case, double that number and add a car. Some piece of American crap, but a car nonetheless."

Silence permeated through the room.

Dave stood, sauntered over to Hermione, and took her smaller hands into his larger ones. "'Course Wallace is downtown right now waiting for a confirmation call from his favorite employee of the month to make sure that she and her new law partner," Dave gestured to himself, " are quite ready for the challenge of winning a no-brainer case and becoming high-class socialites."

It was at that moment that all Hell broke loose in the Granger residence.

Hermione was just grabbing a green cell phone from Dave's firm grip, ready to give Wallace the splendid news that she, youngest and most sought-after attorney for the best law firm in London, was certainly up to taking the Bradley case, when she heard a distinct grating at window. Still endowed with her tendency to overreact, the brown-haired woman dropped the phone onto her hardwood floors, smashing the device to a dozen pieces. Completely ignoring the tremendous mess she had made, Hermione sprinted to the window, silk robe flying along with her.

Dave, never one to be left behind (especially not by Hermione, that little devil) chased after Hermione, skidding on the over-waxed floors, and fell three feet from the window where Hermione stood, shivering slightly and brown eyes affixed on a single, white object that hovered outside her window.

Dusting his pants off tenderly, the lanky man groped for the wooden window ledge, and stood up next to the shorter woman, grabbing her hand in as show of support both for her and support for his mental health. For Dave Chisholm had never seen a snowy white owl carrying a parchment envelope and concurrently rapping on a window with her black beak.

"Don't move..." Dave whispered nervously, all sense of sleazy confidence utterly lost. "I've heard that if you don't move, they can't see you..."

Shaking her head in revulsion, Hermione pushed Dave away, and cautiously opened the window, careful not to put her fingers too close to the opening, knowing very well that this particular snowy owl had quite an affinity for biting a person's fingers if they did not pay particular attention to the owl's beak. The owl, wary from being up all night, hopped through the now open window and then flew onto Hermione's ("It's newly polished!" she moaned) dining room table.

"Hedwig! Get off right now!" Hermione's voice screeched and the brown-eyed woman sprinted over to the tabled and batted the bird with her left hand. Hedwig, already engrossed in picking tiny follicles from her hoary feathers, shrieked in a way that only a much goaded owl could, and flew directly at Dave in her fury.

"AHH!" cried the unsuspecting man, covering his face with his two arms. Hedwig, obviously enjoying the noticeable chance in power in the room, chose to land on the redhead's shoulder, and proceeded to pick some of the larger tresses of red that shot from his head.

"AHH!" he bawled again, this time pushing the white bird completely from his shoulder. Hedwig snapped at him, making perfect contact with his ear, tiny drops of blood escaping the outside. The owl then fell off, and proceeded to mosey back to the wooden table. Dave, still frightened out of his wits by what he considered to be the most vicious animal he had ever encountered, made a beeline for the door, slammed it, and screamed all the way down the stairwell.

Hermione turned viciously on her heel to look at Hedwig, who was once again immersed in licking itself clean. The owl looked up with a guilty expression, and stopped temporarily to pick up the neglected piece of parchment from the wooden table. She flew towards the momentarily stationary attorney, and poked the woman with her beak.

"Hedwig, stop that right now! You know that I don't want to hear from them." In protest, Hedwig nipped Hermione in an irritated fashion. She groaned loudly, and swatted the bird from her eyesight.

"You'd be better off going home now, and not let Harry get his little hopes up. I told him then, and you can tell him now; I don't want to hear from any of them ever again. And make sure to tell him that if this happens again, I will file for some sort of restraining order. Against Harry and you."

And with that, Hedwig bit her.

Hermione refused to scream though she felt as if she was being assaulted with a very large needle. "Fine, fine, I'm taking the blasted thing already," Hermione half-growled, snatching both the envelope and her arm from Hedwig's powerful beak. The bird ruffled indignantly, and hopped onto Hermione's shoulder, as if to make sure the woman was actually reading. The brown-eyed girl shrugged, tore open the envelope, and began reading the immaculately male handwriting:

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Dearest Hermione:

We know that you never wanted to hear from us again, and for five years now, we've respected your decision to leave. We never contacted you or tried interfere in your life. But things have come up that must be dealt with swiftly for an entire world's sake.

We've started this letter a hundred times or more, but have never been quite able to finish it. But it is important that you know the facts. We cannot be terribly specific at this point, as this post could be intercepted at any point. But you deserve to know this; three years ago there was a raid on Hogwarts. Seven students were killed and countless more wounded. One of the seven students was Ginny Weasley.

Since this original incident incalculable more attacks have been planned and carried out upon random areas in the wizarding world. There is yet to be a suspected culprit, but with the unfortunate passing of Dumbledore last summer, we are more worried than ever for the safety of both the school and the rest of the magical community. A new rift is growing and it is time to mend it.

Hermione, it is time to put the past behind you. We are down on our knees. Please come home.

Much love-

Remus J. Lupin and Harry J. Potter

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Hermione read the letter two times more before she forced her hands to put the parchment down. Her eyes, usually so clear, were clouded by murky tears that had been held back for far too long. Hermione's skeletal hands were shaking, and she had a hard time simply sitting down on a stool and taking shallow breaths.

Ginny Weasley is dead.

Ginny Weasley had been nothing more than a memory in the back of Hermione's mind for such a long time. True, she was one of Hermione's closest confidantes when she was still living in the magical world, but Hermione had forced herself to purge the thought of the redhead's bright smile and enthusiasm when she had left Hogwarts those five years ago. Now that she thought back clearly, she had never even said goodbye to Ginny.

I never said goodbye.

But Hermione didn't have the luxury of being able to dwell on the fact that one of the few female friends she had created over the many years was now deceased. Because at that exact moment, as Hedwig finally went back to cleaning herself and eyeing the brandy that lay next to the kitchen sink and as the clock struck six AM, that a large explosion sent the flat into tremors.

"What is Merlin's name..." Hermione whispered, bracing herself against the table, and clutching her robe to her chest. The tremors then stopped. Hermione could practically feel the presence of magic in the house as she walked towards her living room, still thoroughly shaken, listening intently to two voices that came from where she kept her valuables.

"You idiot! How come you always manage to land us on top of something that is breakable? Why not some pillow? A sofa perhaps? In the bedroom, perhaps, where everything is soft? But now, you have to land on the bloody china and silver!"

Hermione moved closer, staring at the twin bodies that were now plastered on (what used to be) her antique china set from her grandmother and silver from her grandfather.

The same voice answered, "Well I'm not exactly sure where I'm supposed to Apparate to, now am I? All we got from ol' Lupin was the bloody flat number. I'm actually quite impressed that we didn't land in the loo!"

Hermione spoke up suddenly, mind blazing "George? Fred? What... you're not supposed to be here!" Hermione stuttered, turning back around, hoping very much that the entire morning was nothing more than a very bad, very involved nightmare. She lashed her robes tightly around her body, and made a path for her bedroom.

"Wait, Hermione?" one of the brothers answered, voice drenched in disbelief. She could hear the shuffling of broken porcelain under feet. "Is that you?"

The other brother spoke with the same incredulity. "When did you become such a fox?"

Well that was enough to make her stop.

"You do not speak to me like that!" she cried, making extra sure that every part of her body was covered up. Her cheeks were rapidly turning red as she noted that age had been nothing if not good to George and Fred Weasley. "And I demand that you leave my house at once! I have security on an intercom over there and if you don't get right back...hey! Put me down!"

George and Fred, evidently tired of listening to the less than properly dressed woman give them a diatribe the likes of what they got from their mother at home, had picked up Hermione and were now carrying her away towards their porcelain mess.

"Now don't you worry Hermione...

"... we're not going to hurt you or anything..."

"... but old Lupin and Tonks thought that this would be the only way we'd get you out of this flat..."

"... did we mentioned that they've gotten married...?

"... so we said that we'd be willing to do it..."

"...because we know just how much you missed us..."

"... and we really wanted to see you again..."

"... and by the way, you look smashing, darling..."

"...we know just how much your friends mean to you..."

"...even if you need a little reminding once and awhile."

"I said, put me down!" Hermione cried out one more time. Her eyes were shut tight. Suddenly, she felt a cold sensation in her stomach. And then a headache that almost blacked her out with pain.

"We're here!" cried Fred.

Hermione groaned, opening her eyes slightly. Her pupils were immediately assaulted by bright lights that shimmered and shined and sang of the happiness that was Christmastime. The air was heavy with scents of holly berries and cinnamon cookies that Hermione knew all too well. In fact, she knew that whole place too well. For it was the last place she had been before she had left the magical world for what she though was forever.

George and Fred grinned and kissed her simultaneously. She blushed, and shook her head.

"Welcome back to the Burrow, Hermione," Fred began.

George hugged her. "...and welcome home."