Harry Potter and the Boy Who Lived

Chapter 6

The Present

"It seems we have a problem," Dumbledore said. All eyes were trained on the box, sitting innocuously on the headmaster's desk. Dumbledore gestured and squashy armchairs appeared for everyone, the room seeming to expand to accommodate everyone as Lily left for the Hospital Wing. Neville was staring blankly at the package, his mind far away. Ginny wanted so badly to go to him but she knew better - when he retreated into himself like that it was best not to disturb him. It would take time for him to snap out of it.

"The package does indeed contain a portkey."

The adults in the room hung their heads and many fingers pinched many bridges of noses; the memory of the TriWizard Tournament and the attack on the Hogwarts Express still all too clear in everyone's minds. Ron and Harry exchanged glances, Neville still stared at the package, and Ginny and Luna's jaws were still on the floor.

Neville snorted with laughter. All eyes shot to him.

"Sorry...hehehe...that's just really...hahaha...funny - Voldemort's actually wised up, has he? I was beginning to wonder when he'd think of something as simple as that. Ha!"

Suddenly, Dumbledore started laughing, too, Harry then, and finally the whole room was rolling with unstoppable laughter. Eventually the chuckles died down and the serious mood settled back on them.

"So what do we do now, then? Have all the packages inspected before they get delivered? Stop the post all together? Or maybe just have my post inspected..." Neville was musing out loud, still chuckling to himself, and not a few people were beginning to think he'd finally cracked.

"He has a point, though. We can't monitor that much post every day; and what about post that doesn't go to the Great Hall? Are there wards we can set?" Harry wasn't sure if anything could be done at all about all those owls - so many personal owls, newspaper owls, Ministry owls, public owls...he shut his mouth immediately, hoping no one would think to assign the task to him.

Dumbledore smiled at him. "No, my boy, I don't think it will come to that. It is quite obvious that the target is Neville, so we shall only have to find some way of checking anything delivered to him or to those closest to him. No, the task at hand is to find where this portkey leads to. It is a touch activated portkey, but we can't very well risk Neville using it, now can we? No."

Dumbledore stood and pointed his wand at the package and began to unwrap it from a foot away. As the parcel paper fell away to reveal a box of cookies. He waved his wand over the cookies and one of them hovered above the rest. He took one of his curious instruments off the shelf behind his desk and spoke a series of spells at the cookie, which began to glow bright blue, then pointed his wand at the odd device on the desk which turned bright orange.

The strange instrument was flat stone with curious runes engraved around the border leaving the centre clear and smooth. As the cookie glowed brighter the runes became orange and slowly began to rearrange themselves in the centre of the stone. They swirled as if alive, so unlike stone. All eyes widened as the runes moved faster, glowing furiously and illuminating the room. The portcookie was still bright blue and where the two colours met, white light radiated. Finally, the cookie dropped and split on the desk, the blue gone and the chocolate bits melted completely. The stone, however, was quite changed. Dumbledore smiled at Neville, gesturing for him to sit down.

"This," he said, indicating the tablet, "is a mapstone; the spells transferred the location of the portkey to the mapstone, which is, as it sounds, now a map of where Neville would've been brought to. Let us see...according to this, Neville would now be in -"

Dumbledore stopped short. Eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinted at the map, hoping to see what it was Dumbledore was looking at.

"He would be in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic."

Shouts of consternation and disbelief ricocheted around the headmaster's office at the pronouncement. Department of Mysteries indeed! What a ridiculous idea. There was no way Voldemort would go back after last year. Neville destroyed the record of the prophecy last year, and there was no way he could know about the second prophecy. He wouldn't be able to send any of his henchmen to the Ministry, anyway, especially after the Ministry had finally admitted openly that Voldemort had indeed returned.

"Please, please, everyone calm down," Dumbledore said, his quiet voice somehow heard above the din. His brow furrowed, indicating his equal shock at the idea. But he knew the mapstone wouldn't malfunction. None of it made any sense.

"I'm afraid that I am quite as perplexed as all of you. We shall have to redouble our efforts to gather information. Until we attain some sort of indication as to the nature of Voldemort's plans for the immediate future, we can't begin to draw conclusions about this latest...attempt on Neville's life." Dumbledore barely managed to suppress a smile at the thought of Voldemort sending a box of cookies. He sobered, though, as wild thoughts of poison and kidnapping flashed through his mind. Anything is a possibility now, the thought. "I think it time we adjourned this meeting and returned to our respective duties - we have a lot more on our hands now."

The Aurors flooed out one by one, Snape left quickly for the dungeons, Luna and Ron returned to Gryffindor Tower, Ginny left with Neville to take a walk (with permission from the headmaster) and Harry et al went to the Hospital wing to check on Lily and Rose.

Rose was perfectly fine - her swoon was nothing compared to the first vision - but her mother and Madam Pomfrey continued to fuss over her until the rest of her family took over to do more fussing. She gave Harry a look of eternal appreciation when he suggested that the adults "leave her alone - the stupid brat's well enough to complain so she must be fine".

James backed off, dragging Lily away with him. With quick goodbyes and hugs, James, Lily and Sirius returned to Dumbledore's office to floo home, and Remus returned to his quarters to get some grading done. Harry and Rose made their way back to Gryffindor Tower by way of the owlery to let Hermione know what was going on.

The next few days were as ordinary as any at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Everyone went to class, received homework, did homework (or pretended to) and went on with life without interruption. The only thing that changed was the process of getting post to Neville. All five friends checked and re-checked Neville's packages and letters as they arrived, taking them back to the common room for inspection by Crookshanks.

Neville couldn't help but think everyone was taking it a bit too seriously, but he held his peace, knowing they needed to feel involved somehow, to feel as if they were contributing to cause while they were stuck at school away from the real war. He really couldn't fathom why they'd want to be involved at all. He was quite content to forget about it all. But he couldn't. His scar still itched. Voldemort was still pleased about something, but Neville couldn't see what.

A familiar feeling settled at the pit of his stomach. He felt it before the year even started - fear. He knew momentum was building to an unstoppable rate and soon he would have to face Voldemort once and for all. Neville loved Hogwarts without a doubt, but somehow he felt he'd rather be somewhere else. At Hogwarts everyone knew him. Certainly he was safe - well, maybe not as immune as he thought, considering the recent portcookie incident.

He was scared, but he didn't dare admit it.

*

Meanwhile

Hermione had seen enough grief in her short life to be able to pull herself together for the funeral. But no amount of growing up could prepare her for dealing with her father's grief. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were, by nature, not very loud people, though they were given to speaking quickly and lengthily - a habit stemming from the dentists' need to distract their patients from drills and pliers and needles. After Mr. Granger Senior's death, a sullen hush fell over the household and the talkative warmth of the family fizzled to near nothing as Mr. Granger withdrew into himself. Hermione hurt more to see her father grieve than in her own loss of her grandfather.

Mrs. Granger felt the loss acutely, too, her being the favourite daughter-in-law of the family and being particularly attached to her husband's father. Hermione was the eldest of the Granger children, her two cousins both Muggles in primary school, giving her the most time with her grandparents. And still, despite individual losses, the entire Granger family was shocked and almost in awe of the complete change in Hermione's father.

The funeral service was brief, the remains cremated and buried under his favourite oak tree in the garden of their home in the Lake District. Hermione stood for a long while at the grave, holding her grandmother's hand. Grandma Granger turned to her eldest granddaughter and cupped her chin in her hand.

"He was always so proud of you, Hermione," she said. "He cared for everyone so much, but he would always think of you with a special pride and love. You were our first grandchild - such a beautiful girl - nothing could have made us happier."

Hermione smiled through her tears, images of days spent walking with her grandfather, and of trips to the lakes, and of the copper bracelet he wore around his wrist for the arthritis, and of how he smelled of clean laundry with a hint of the vodka he drank with every meal.

Grandma took from her pocket a necklace - a sapphire set around with a "v" of diamonds on a flat gold chain. She hooked it around Hermione's neck and kissed her forehead.

"Your grandfather always gave me gifts. He couldn't stand not giving me something for every occasion - birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, other people's birthdays. I have so many beautiful things from him, including you, so I'll give you this one."

Hermione hugged her grandmother tightly, clutching the sapphire of the necklace in one hand.

"It looks lovely on her, don't you think, dear?" she asked the tree.

Hermione and her parents stayed there for a few days, her father going daily to the site to "sit under dad's tree and breathe," he'd say. Hermione was torn between staying with her father and going back to Hogwarts - the owls she'd received from Harry and Rose over the past few days were troubling, to say the least.

"Why don't you just go back to school?" her mother asked on Wednesday over tea, sensing her daughter's agitation. "Your father will be alright without you - goodness knows he's going to insist on doing this for a long while and there's nothing you or I can do to make it better. He's going to grieve and then he's going to live on."

Hermione sighed and nodded. After tea she flooed Professor Dumbledore, letting him know she'd be returning in the morning.

Mr. Granger came into the sitting room, a package in hand, still quiet. He called Hermione to him and sat her down on his lap like he used to when she was small. He handed her the package, which she opened. Inside was a scrapbook filled with photos, newspaper clippings, letters and oak leaves pressed between the pages.

"It was dad's," Mr. Granger said. "He said his life was so full of history that he wanted to keep a record of it, and he wanted me to continue it. I can't, really. All the important events in my life are already in here." He flipped to various pages where photos of his birth were, of his wedding to Hermione's mum, and of Hermione's birth. "You're the one who is living history now. So you continue this for grandpa and me, okay?"

He had no idea just how true that was.

Tears Hermione worked so hard to get under control flooded again. Her father clutched his daughter to him tightly, rocking her as she cried for her grandfather and for her father. A tiny voice in her head scolded her for being the one comforted instead of being there for her father, but she paid it no mind as she let herself be held in the safest place on earth: in her father's arms. Finally, she wiped her hand across her face and smiled, kissing her father on the cheek and hugging the scrapbook.

"Now, you'll go to school tomorrow, won't you, Bunny? And you'll be fine. I'll be fine, too, so don't you worry. Just keep doing Grandpa proud. I love you, my baby."

"I love you so much, daddy," Hermione said, letting the pet name slide. They called her Bunny because of her large front teeth. She smiled toothily, glad she'd let Madam Pomfrey shrink her teeth just that little bit more during fourth year.

The next morning Hermione flooed back to Hogwarts, the necklace around her neck, the scrapbook tucked safely in her bag and another bag full of sweets and biscuits for her friends from her family. With a deep breath, she left the headmaster's office and made her way to Gryffindor Tower just as breakfast ended in the Great Hall.

*

"Hermione!"

She turned at the sound of her name and saw two flashes of red speeding towards her. Rose and Ginny hugged her soundly. She was so glad to be back.

"So are you okay?" Ginny finally asked. Hermione nodded.

"I'll be fine. I'm still very shaken and sad - I think I'll always be sad about this - but I'll live. He wouldn't want me to just sit around being upset anyway. It was really hard on my dad, though, so I'll be more worried about him for a while. Otherwise, yes I'm ok."

"Well we're glad you're here, too - there's so much that's happened while you were away. Did you get our owls?" Rose asked.

Hermione would've answered were it not for the fact that she was suddenly hoisted into the air and twirled around by a dashing young man with black hair and arresting green eyes. She couldn't help but grin. Harry put her down when Ron made his presence known by coughing loudly. Harry cheekily kissed Hermione and dashed behind Neville as Ron stepped up and gave her a proper "welcome back" kiss. Eyes rolled and eyebrows lifted in unison as Ron and Hermione got a bit carried away.

"For fuck's sake it's only been four days!" Rose scoffed.

"You're just jealous," Ginny said, intertwining her fingers with Neville's just to make Rose mad. Luna didn't bother to hide her laugh, and Rose shot her an "E tu, Brute?" look. Luna raised her eyebrow at Rose - their signal for "I've got something to tell you later" - and left it at that.

At lunch, Hermione gave them all a full recounting of a Protestant Muggle funeral ("What, you mean there's different ways of having a funeral?" "Yes, Ron, there are - you should know this from your Muggle studies class!") and of what the Lake District looks like to Muggles. Since Hermione was a Muggle-born, she could see both the Muggle and Magical views - one through each eye.

Luna came to lunch late and was rather distracted throughout the meal. Ginny and Rose leaned in to whisper with her and they kept shooting glances over to the Ravenclaw table. Rose rolled her eyes several times through the whisperings, though eventually she smiled a gushy smile that made Harry look at her in shock.

"What in the ninth circle of Hell have you done to my sister?" he demanded of Ginny and Luna at the sight of Rose's silly grin.

"Oh, nothing - she's just realized a few things," Ginny put in.

Luna looked over to the Ravenclaw table again, and waved at someone, causing Rose to "awww" loudly. Harry looked aghast, and shot Rose a look of betrayal.

"I can't help it - it's really very sweet, Harry," Rose said, trying to defend herself. "Luna's in love!" Harry turned his face to the ceiling above, plaintively asking all the gods why they abandoned him in the middle of all these mushy romantics.

*

Later, in the war room, Hermione was given the run-down of the events she missed. She scribbled notes on the scroll, her forehead scrunched in concentration as she digested all the information being thrown at her from six sources. Her hand strayed to the bag of peppermint humbugs she'd brought for the meeting.

"And Dumbledore said that the mapstone was incapable of lying," Neville finished. He rubbed his scar, which was still tingling, and looked at Hermione plaintively, hoping she'd come up with an answer.

"I don't know, Neville. I'm still really thrown off track by the whole cookie thing - it's so out of character. Voldemort and cookies? Really."

"I know," said Harry. "That was the first thing that we thought of - how silly it seemed."

"Maybe he finally realized that simple is better," Luna put in.

Arguments broke out as they each insisted their interpretations were correct. As they argued, Hermione's brain began to click. Her eyes opened wide with revelation, but narrowed again with doubt. Hermione glanced back down at the scroll, retracing the logic that led her to this conclusion. It seemed sound, but then again, so did everything she knew before she came to Hogwarts. Still, she decided to trust her gut on this one.

"I don't think it was Voldemort who sent you that package, Neville."

Everyone stopped short and gaped at the idea.

"Neville, you said Voldemort was still happy, even after the portkey was discovered. It's clear the portkey would've brought you to the Department of Mysteries. It is so very unlike anything he's done before. And then there's the fact that he wouldn't and couldn't risk going to the ministry after last year - he lost five of his best Death Eaters, who knows how many henchmen, and three of his inner circle were captured. He's stronger now, but not reckless and stupid. He's going to want to finish you off - sorry Neville, but he is - and he's going to want it to be grand. Sending you to the Department of Mysteries wouldn't accomplish anything for him. It must be someone else."

They all considered this for a moment. The more they looked at the facts, the more logical it seemed. This left them with more questions than answers, though. The most pressing one, then would be: who sent the package, then?

"Well whoever sent me the cookies, then, doesn't know me that well. Otherwise they'd know that I don't like raisins, and they were oatmeal raisin cookies," Neville said as he reached for the bag of sweets and looked inside. There were four humbugs left.

Neville offered the humbugs to Ginny, who took one. Harry declined, Ron took one, Hermione said she didn't want one, Luna took the third and Rose the fourth when Neville said he didn't really want one.

Rose smiled at him, are you sure? her eyes asked. Neville nodded, and Rose popped the peppermint candy into her mouth, pleased that she'd gotten another one - she dearly loved them. All the talk of oatmeal raisin cookies made her smile, too.

"I really could use an oatmeal raisin cookie, though, now that you mention it," she said to the universe. A few murmurs of agreements sounded, and Neville scrunched his face in disgust at the thought of raisins. Harry laughed, siding with Neville, joined by Ron. The three of them had a rather bad experience as toddlers involving too many raisins and a week's stomach ache. The girls didn't bother trying to understand - those three were just a world of inside jokes they never shared.

"You can have the next batch, then," Neville said, not at all sarcastically.

"Portcookie and all?" Ginny asked, teasingly.

Neville looked abashed at that and offered to find the portkey first then give her the cookies. Rose and Luna immediately demanded their share of the next batch of Oatmeal Raisin cookies minus the portkey. Finally, Hermione got sick of the cookie discussion and conjured some for the girls. The boys rolled their eyes at her handiwork, Ginny, Rose and Luna were well impressed, and Hermione sighed, saying she wanted to go to bed. The cookies weren't very good, but they ended the meeting, and everyone went to the dormitories for some much-needed rest.

Chapter 7

Twenty Years Ago