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Ron and Hermione stood there hand-in-hand, facing each other. "What are you doing here?" Hermione demanded. Her nose was red and her eyes were still watering from all the dust. "I'm helping Dad out a bit this summer. He's been swamped here lately," Ron's eyes narrowed as he looked more closely at Hermione. "What are you doing here?" Over her shoulder he could see stacks of papers arranged neatly on the desk beside a quill and a notebook. He squinted to see if he could catch a glimpse of what she was reading. On the grey box sitting on the edge of the table he saw the label - Improper Use of Magic. Hermione reacted instantly. Realizing for the first time that her hand was still cradled in Ron's, she gasped and pulled it away. Ron resisted for a moment before letting her go. Taking a few steps back, Hermione stood defensively in front of the small table and put her hands on her hips. "That is none of your business, Ronald Aurelius Weasley. None at all! Now just go away. I'm busy." Ron frowned and flexed his hand, remembering the way Hermione's hand had felt while it was still nestled in his. "Geez, Hermione, who pissed in your pumpkin juice?" he asked plaintively. "I just came down to say hello." "Oh, really?" Hermione replied sarcastically. "You mean you didn't come down to say you're sorry?" She winced as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Why had she said that? Some things, she believed, were best forgotten. For once Ron took the hint, and had the decency to look embarrassed as a wave of pink swept over his face. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, and began an intent study of the archives' dull, grey-tiled floor. With a sigh, Hermione turned around and began to quickly put all the files back inside the box. Behind her, Ron stepped a bit closer, and began to read over her shoulder. The book she'd been looking through earlier was still sitting face up on the table. Ron could only make out the chapter title, Magical Artifacts. It seemed innocent enough, but he started to get a bad feeling in his gut. A very bad feeling. "What do you need those for, Hermione?" he asked softly. She spun around and found herself standing entirely too close to Ron. She tried to move back, but she was already up against the table. Instinctively, she pushed against his chest, a piece of paper still clutched in her hand. "I've already said. It's none of your business," she answered with a small quaver in her voice. Deftly, Ron pulled the paper from her hand and stepped back, scanning its contents as quickly as he could. Hermione screeched and dove after the stolen sheet, but Ron was quicker. He danced just out of reach and read a bit more. Why is she reading up on young offenders? Ron looked down into Hermione's scowling face as she hopped up in a desperate attempt to get the paper back. She finally managed to rip it out of his hands, and hurried to stuff the rest of the papers back in the box. It was a notice to an underage wizard who had mistakenly performed a spell during the summer break. As Hermione continued to clean up, Ron stood where he was and watched her - quietly following her frantic movements. Something was going on. Definitely. Or his name was Gilderoy Lockhart. When she was done, she scooped up the box and slipped it into an empty space on the shelf. She spun around to confront Ron who had followed her into the back room. "I'm going," she announced abruptly and slung her rucksack over her shoulder. Ron grabbed her wrist and tried to talk to her one more time. As he clasped her hand, Hermione's ring glimmered, and he noticed it for the first time. "What's going on? Why did you need those files?" Ron asked sternly. Almost as an afterthought he added, "And where did you get that ring?" Hermione looked away before answering. "I'm working on a paper for extra credit," she said finally. "And like everything else, the ring is none of your business." Normally, Ron would have no trouble believing that Hermione was doing extra work. In fact, if it hadn't been for her odd behavior, he would have thought that himself. But there was something very strange about the way she was trying to hide those papers, and she wasn't exactly the kind of girl who wore a lot of baubles. There was something else, though. A niggling feeling that something was not right. "Bye, Ron," Hermione said simply. He thought, for a moment, that she hesitated before turning to leave him. Ron stood scratching his head for a moment as he watched her go, and then slapped his fist into his palm. This called for action. Ron thought longingly of the files Hermione had just replaced. He definitely wanted to see those, but instead he decided to follow through on his first instinct - following Hermione. Chapter 9 - Ron's Excellent Adventure It was risky, but Ron was willing to take the chance. He followed Hermione into the hall and cast his spell. "Accio Glamour Hat!" he invoked. He was allowed to do some very basic magic while on duty at the Ministry, but he had to be careful. He didn't want to end up with one of those letters, like the ones Hermione was studying. With any luck his father, who was in the habit of leaving his office door open, wouldn't notice the hat lift off the hook and zip out of the room. Within moments Ron had the hat in his hands. Grasping it tightly in his fist, he ordered the direction arrows to tell him where Hermione was, and hastily followed them. She was moving quickly. Ron's heart was pounding with the thrill of the chase. No doubt she would go straight home and resume studying, but he couldn't be too sure. He had a hard time imagining Hermione doing anything illegal, though. It wasn't like Harry was around and needed their help. What possible reason would she have to break any rules? She headed up a few levels and confused Ron by choosing a narrow hall that led away from the Floo Ports. He skulked behind, peering around corners and watched her stride purposefully towards her destination. When she slipped through a door, Ron hurried to catch it before it closed and spied through the small crack. Through it, he saw Hermione flash a piece of paper at the security gnome, flounce past the guard, and climb up the stairs. He hesitated. He couldn't continue till she was through the door at the top of the stairs or she would see him, and the guard would surely draw attention to him. He was unfamiliar with this part of the Ministry, but judging by the faded peeling paint, it was an older and relatively unused area. He couldn't wait too long or he might lose her. The minute she was through the door, Ron left his hiding place and was on his way up the stairs. The gnome was small, but powerfully built. He dove after Ron with amazing speed, grabbed his arm, hauling him back down the steps. The gnome himself stood four steps above Ron and looked him in the eye. "State your name and the purpose of your exit," he said flatly. In other circumstances Ron might have been tempted to have it out with the ugly little blighter, but each moment that passed let Hermione get further away. He simply pulled out his identification badge and stuck it in the gnome's face. "I'm off for the day. Now get your ruddy hands off me," Ron growled. The gnome grabbed the tag around Ron's neck with what Ron thought was excessive force, causing him to stand on his tiptoes while the gnome studied his identification. After examining it, carefully noting the picture of Ron, now scowling and sticking out his tongue, he let it drop. "Go." Ron got as fast as he could. Nasty things, those security gnomes. He raced up the stairs and had to stop dead again when he reached the final door. It wouldn't open till he had read the instructions and sworn an oath to keep the door a secret from the Muggles. Ron took a deep breath and performed the Release Spell and the required Cloaking Spell. Standing in the shade of the oak, Ron strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of Hermione. The guard had held him up too long. He kicked the tree in frustration, and an acorn fell off, hitting him smartly on the top of his head. He looked up and took a few steps away from the tree, just as a precaution. As he stepped away from the tree, he now had a much better view of the street. There she was. Sitting hunched over on one of the benches that lined the street was Hermione, her face hidden behind masses of brown hair. Yet he knew it was Hermione. That mop was unmistakable. Ron moved in a bit closer and watched her. Once in a while she would look up and he would panic, but she never noticed him. She was staring off into space. Girls, thought Ron, are so weird. Finally, she stood up and started walking down the street. Ron put the hat on and followed her. If Hermione had turned around even once, she might have noticed the man in the grey trench coat and fedora dogging her steps, but she never did. A few minutes later she stopped near a cluster of Muggles. Ron cautiously approached the group, hoping that he could blend in with them and remain unnoticed by Hermione. He tried to mingle unobtrusively, but the Muggles stared at him curiously. Some laughed, while others made a point of avoiding eye contact. Ron held his breath as he waited for Hermione to turn around, but she seemed to be lost in her own thoughts. When a bright red bus pulled up, the crowd filed up the stairs. Ron fought panic as Hermione climbed in as well. He straightened his shoulders and stepped into line. He had never ventured into the Muggle world on his own before, but he was determined to follow things through. The old lady ahead of him climbed slowly up the stairs. Then she struggled to open her change purse. Ron took the opportunity to study the situation. He took in the odd glass box that looked to be full of Muggle money. His heart pounded since it hadn't occurred to him to borrow some from his dad's Muggle money collection. He dug into his pocket and came up with a Ninian card from a chocolate frog and a piece of lint. He tried to sneak by the old lady, but the driver looked over and bellowed at him. "Hold on there, mister! Where's your fare?" she asked. Ron stepped aside to let the lady by and held his hands up to show they were empty. He stared hopelessly into the driver's round face and dark eyes. The driver was beginning to get impatient and several other passengers pushed rudely past Ron as they dropped their coins into the box. "Listen, pal, I ain't got no dough. See?" he said. Ron almost fainted. Obviously he had underestimated the power of the spell. It not only disguised his appearance, it changed his voice as well. What he had actually said was, "I'm very sorry. I haven't got any money." "Nobody rides for free on my bus. Not even you, Bogie," growled the bus driver. Ron felt a jolt go through him when the driver called him Bogie. How did she know about the hat? Before he could ask, the driver slid her legs from under the steering wheel, stood up, and hiked up the belt hiding beneath her large drooping belly. If she was trying to intimidate him, Ron figured she was doing a fair job. The woman was enormous. It was just his luck that Hermione picked a bus driven by someone who looked like Hagrid's cranky older sister. Suddenly, Hermione appeared at his side. He held his breath, but she only reached past him and handed the driver some change. "Here," she said simply as she paid the irate woman the fare. Ron stood face to face with Hermione, but there wasn't even a flicker of recognition in her eyes. "Here's lookin' at you, kid," he said in a husky voice, testing his disguise by saying thank you. Hermione nodded and quietly went back to her seat without giving Ron another glance. Once Hermione got off the bus, Ron began to have serious doubts about his "brilliant" plan. He and Hermione were the only two people to get off the bus at her stop. She had looked at him strangely, and started walking quickly down the street. Ron began to follow after her a few minutes later, hoping to look like a man out for a casual stroll. The wind shook the leaves on the trees that lined the street, and overhead, the sky was beginning to darken. Ron rubbed his arms. The trench coat was only illusory and offered no protection from the elements. Up ahead, Hermione was walking as fast as she could. She didn't need to look over her shoulder to know that the odd fellow in Humphrey Bogart costume was following her. It was her own fault. She should never have paid his fare, but he had appeared to be so helpless with those pathetic hound dog eyes. Brilliant, she thought. On top of everything else, I've managed to pick up a stalker. Well done, Hermione! When the first opportunity arose, she stepped behind a tall hedge, pulled out her wand, and slid it up her the sleeve of her jacket. As she heard the approaching footsteps she jumped out from behind the hedge and confronted her stalker. "Stop right there!" she yelled in her fiercest voice. A young boy screamed and stumbled backwards. He fell to the ground and landed at Hermione's feet, where he lay staring up at her with wide blue eyes. Hermione recognized that look. It was him. The boy who had seen her cast the spell two days earlier. She gasped in surprise. "What on earth...? How did you find me?" "I deduced that since you were on a bike you must live fairly close by, and I've been doing a systematic search of the area within a ten mile radius of the spot where I last saw you. It was a gamble of course, but, here you are. I can't believe I've finally found you. I've got so many questions." Two stalkers in one day, she thought bitterly. It must be some sort of record. "What do you want from me?" she asked sternly. "Nothing! I mean I just want to talk to you. I've dreamt of meeting one of you my whole life, and here you are. It's fantastic," the slender boy gushed. "You mean you know what I am? You know that I am a...a," Hermione hesitated. "An alien!" he finished triumphantly. "Yes, I know! But you needn't worry. I won't tell anyone. I know what the government would do if they ever discovered there were aliens living among us. I've watched the X-Files," he added in a whisper. "An... alien?" Hermione echoed weakly. It seemed that perhaps he'd been watching a bit too much television. The boy gathered himself up and held out his hand. "My name is Michael Joffs. I come in peace," he said in a deep voice. Hermione rolled her eyes and shook his trembling hand. "Wasn't that supposed to be my line?" she muttered. "Huh?" "Never mind," she sighed. "Now that you've found me, what do you want to know?" She decided to humour Michael until she could find an excuse to escape. "Er... Well, where are you from? Which planet?" He seemed to hold his breathe in anticipation. Hermione blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Uranus." Her answer seemed to deflate him. She ground her teeth in frustration and vowed to throttle Ron the next time she saw him. "Oh, I would never have guessed...I mean, I suppose you would have shields and everything..." "Listen, Michael. I'm very sorry, but this alien business is all very confidential. I can't tell you anything. You understand." "Of course," he answered, though he looked disappointed. "I really must go," she said gently, and walked away before he could ask her anything else. "Wait!" called Michael as he chased after her. Hermione glanced over he shoulder and saw that he was limping as he pursued her. Feeling guiltier than ever, she went back to him. "Are you all right?" she asked. "I twisted my ankle a bit when I fell, but it doesn't hurt at all," he answered earnestly, but Hermione noticed for the first time that he looked rather pale under his short cap of blond hair. "Come on then," Hermione said resignedly, and she slipped her arm around him and brought him the rest of the way home with her. It wasn't far, but by the time Hermione slipped Michael through the back gate into the garden, he was biting his lip and covered with a sheen of perspiration. She sat him on the bench beneath the arbor and dropped her rucksack on the ground. She collapsed exhausted beside her bag, and listened to the water quietly spilling down her mother's waterfall, into the pond where two fat goldfish hid in the shadows the tall trees cast on the water. Her parent's hadn't noticed her slip into the backyard, and Hermione decided it was time to test her hypothesis. She'd done her research, and now she had the perfect opportunity to see if she could cast spells unnoticed by the Ministry and help Michael at the same time. After all, it was her fault he'd got hurt in the first place. "Listen, Michael, I am going to do something to your ankle to make it feel better, but you'll have to close your eyes while I do it. I know I'm asking you to trust me, but..." "I do!" he answered quickly, and closed his eyes. Hermione shook her head and wondered at his childlike faith in her. Pulling the wand out of her sleeve where she had hastily hidden it earlier, she cast a simple healing spell on his ankle. "Open your eyes," she commanded. "What did you do?" asked Michael. "Stand up and walk," Hermione told him, and he took a few steps. He shouted happily, "It's amazing! Fantastic!" Hermione had to shush him before he attracted too much attention. "Thank you," he said again, a look of awe still on his face. "What else can you do?" It wasn't an unexpected question, but Hermione was beginning to feel guilty about the way she was deceiving Michael. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that, Michael. The truth is that just by ca... I mean healing your ankle I've already broken too many rules. I'm not supposed to draw attention to myself. I suppose I haven't done a very good job of that so far, but you do understand?" With a bit more persuasion, Hermione managed to convince Michael that he should go. She wanted to be alone in case she was wrong and an owl appeared with her letter. It was obvious he wanted to stay with her, but after hinting again that his presence could get her into trouble, he left for home. She was exhausted. It was getting late and the wind was beginning to toss the treetops back and forth. It smelled like rain. Hermione stood looking at the darkening sky when she noticed something odd in the shrubbery. A chill went through her. It was the other stalker, crouched down behind a huge clump of peonies. He stood when she approached him and turned to run when a breeze rushed past her like a speeding train and snatched the man's hat away, playfully tossing it up in the air, just out of his reach. For a moment Hermione's eyes followed the hat's movements as it flew up, turning over and over. When she looked back at the intruder, he had vanished. In his place was Ron, cursing and reaching for the runaway hat. In a rather poorly calculated move, Ron peered over his shoulder to check on Hermione just as he tripped over one of the decorative stones around the pond, and fell head first into the water. He sat there shivering while Hermione stood over him, eyes blazing like an avenging angel's. "Hullo, Hermione," he said cheerily through blue lips. "Bit breezy tonight isn't it?" For once Hermione was at a loss for words. She grabbed Ron, who had risen to greet her, by the shoulders, and began to shake him with teeth-rattling force. "What. Are. You. Doing. Here?" she finally managed to ask, giving him an extra hard shake with each word. Ron was a bit dizzy from all the shaking and Hermione's nails were beginning to dig into him painfully. He found it difficult to think. "Gerroff, Hermione. Stop it!" he yelled, pulling away from her. Even sopping wet, Ron burned with anger. "I followed you because I knew something was wrong. And I was right, wasn't I! I saw you cast that spell, Hermione. Have you gone mad? You'll be kicked out of Hogwarts. And on a Muggle too. What's going on! Don't lie to me anymore." For a while, Hermione regarded Ron as he stood there glaring at her, trembling with either fear or anger, or more likely - both. "You wouldn't understand," she answered finally. The fury in Ron's eyes changed suddenly. Now they were confused and hurt. There was a crack of thunder, and the pelting rain began. It fell in stinging needles, burning when it hit bare skin, but Ron didn't notice. He was oblivious to everything as he searched Hermione's face. "What exactly wouldn't I understand? That you're doing your best to get kicked out of Hogwarts? That you're flaunting the fact that you are a witch in front of Muggles? That you're lying? Who was that Muggle anyhow? Your new boyfriend? That was quick work. Dump Vicky and find another fellow just like that!" "Just shut up! He isn't my boyfriend, and I didn't tell him I'm a witch. He thinks I'm a..." Hermione stopped. Why was it that Ron always seemed to know how to hurt her so deeply? And poor Michael. Ron would just mock him. "A what? He thinks you're a what?" demanded Ron. "An angel of mercy, perhaps?" he jeered. "No!" she said defiantly. Then, unable to meet his eyes, she muttered, "He thinks I'm an alien." Ron's face registered his shock. Then he started to smirk. "An alien? These Muggles! Honestly! Sounds to me like his wand's not exactly shooting off the brightest sparks," snorted Ron. "Leave him be! Michael is very sweet," she answered angrily. "So what does he have to do with all this? Is he the reason you're sneaking around the archives?" "May I point out, Ron, that you are the one who has been sneaking around. You just have a suspicious mind. Whatever is going on with me is my business. Mine. All you ever do is make fun! Why should I tell you anything?" "You can trust me, you know," he said quietly. But whatever Hermione wanted to say was lost when a shout from the house startled both of them. "Hermione! Why didn't you tell us you were back? Your mother was ready to call the police. What is all the yelling about?" Hermione stepped aside and her father caught sight of Ron standing in the pond. Chapter 11 - Promise Me, Hermione Back in her room, Hermione lay on her bed biting her fingernails. She was angry. Right now Ron was in her house, in her bathroom taking a shower. He was probably even using her shampoo. Just the idea of him in there felt wrong, somehow. This restlessness was driving her mad. After what seemed like an eternity, the shower stopped. He'd be getting out now. Reaching for one of the towels she used all the time... What was wrong with her? She rolled over and went downstairs to insist that her parents drive Ron home immediately. She found them sitting at the kitchen table, and judging by the looks on their faces, they had been discussing her. He mother had already started dinner, so it was safe to assume Ron would be staying to eat with them. It seemed as if she was stuck with him for a while longer. "So, you happened to meet Ron at the Ministry and you invited him over? Is that right?" her mother asked. "Yes. Certainly. I've already told you that. He came back with me, and tripped and fell into the pond," Hermione answered. Oh, the tangled webs we weave, she thought sadly. "What's this then?" asked her father as he held up the Glamour Hat. "That's just something Ron brought back from the Ministry. He..." "Why don't you try it on?" interrupted Ron. He stood in the doorway, looking absurdly comfortable in her father's grey sweatpants and a black T-shirt. Her father was tall, like Ron, but the shirt was tight across the younger man's shoulders. A fact Hermione tried hard not to notice. Hermione's father regarded the hat with suspicion before putting it on his head. When the Glamour Spell changed him, Hermione's mother shrieked. He quickly took it off, and Ron explained how the spell worked. With an uncertain smile, Mr. Granger tried it on again. Hermione watched with amusement as her normally shy father began to tease her mother. "Of all the gin joints in all the world, she walks into mine..." he intoned as he went to embrace his wife. She giggled a bit and stepped back. "Paul!" she laughed. "I can't kiss Humphrey Bogart," she protested, as he pursued her around the table. Hermione smiled. It had been ages since she'd seen her parents laughing together. She glanced over at Ron and found him studying her. "Ron and I will be in the library if you need us," Hermione said as she pushed her chair back from the table. She wanted to leave her mum and dad alone. Her mother promised to call them when dinner was ready. When Hermione pushed past him, Ron followed her into the cozy room, with its dark green walls, burnished mahogany bookshelves that stretched to the ceiling, and French doors that opened out into the garden. Ron took in the richness of the room and decided that dentists must do all right for themselves. He sat on one of the leather armchairs and waited, for once, for someone else to begin what he was sure would be an argument. In the silence of the room, Ron began to tap his foot restlessly as he waited for Hermione to tell him what was going on, but the only sound that could be heard was the rain hitting the glass doors like little pebbles. "Well?" Ron blurted out in exasperation, unable to wait for Hermione begin. "Well, what?" Hermione retorted. "Don't be thick, Hermione. You know very well what I mean. Out with it!" he ordered. Hermione opened her mouth, as if to answer him, but closed it again without speaking. Grabbing his hair with both hands, Ron let out a low growl of frustration. "What's the matter? Swallow a Ton-Tongue Toffees? Either you tell me now, or I'm marching over to the kitchen and telling your parents that you're in trouble. They'll have you under lock and key before you can say "Expelliarmus." Knowing that Ron would do as he threatened, Hermione decided she had no choice. Standing in front of one of the French doors, watching the rain snake its way down the glass, Hermione turned to Ron and began to tell him her story. I'd been out biking and I hit a rut and fell off," she said quietly. I wandered into the woods and found this." She held out her hand to Ron. She couldn't bring herself to take the ring off. He stood up and took her hand, but his gaze never left her face, searching her eyes. Finally, he broke off and touched the circle of gold gently, spinning it on her finger a few times with his thumb. "Is there anything written in it?" he asked. "Nothing. No distinguishing marks whatsoever." She wanted to tell him about her discovery of the ring's power, but something held her back. Earlier, Ron's wet hair had appeared to be a dark auburn, but now in the warm light of the room, its rich red hue glowed, contrasting with the bright blue of his eyes. Hermione clenched her fist tightly to stop herself from reaching out to touch the little curls that touched the back of Ron's neck. Ron's brow was furrowed in concentration as he stared at the ring. “Where exactly did you find this?” Hermione could picture the scene in her mind as she answered, “It was by an
old well…in a clearing. I found it quite by accident.” "You say you found this by an old well? Was it a Wishing Well?" "A Wishing Well? Ron, you don't mean to tell me there really is such a thing?" Hermione smiled at the thought. Ron grinned in return. "I suppose Hogwarts: A History doesn't mention any of those. I'll have to talk Dumbledore into getting us one, but yes, there is such a thing. They're very Old Magic, Hermione. Did you make a wish?" She wanted to laugh at the absurdity. Did she seem like the kind of girl who went around making wishes in wells? Then it hit her. She had. She had made a wish while standing there, looking down into that silent cistern. What was it she had wished for? I just wish I could be someone, or something else. Someone special. But how ridiculous. She hadn't changed. She was still the same old Hermione Granger. "Hermione," prompted Ron with an edge of fear in his voice, "did you make a wish?" "Sort of, not a real wish." she hedged. Ron frowned, then brightened. "Wait! I've just remembered. You have to throw a coin into the well. Muggle money won't do it, either. It's got to be gold. Real gold." He looked at Hermione in relief, but she was looking off into space again, her hand stroking her bare throat in an unconscious movement. "My necklace..." she whispered. "I didn't know where I lost it. I thought perhaps it had fallen off when I tumbled off my bike, but I remember now; there was a splash. It could have been my necklace falling into the well. The locket and chain were real gold. My parents bought it for me." Ron grabbed Hermione's arm. "This is serious, Hermione. What did you wish for?" She couldn't tell him. It would sound so foolish. Selfish. "You don't know for certain it is a real wishing well, Ron. We're probably just jumping to conclusions." "Fine. I'll find out tomorrow at work. There are maps there with all the magical places marked on it. You'll have to draw a map of the route you took." Hermione felt a wave of irritation at Ron's interference. He was probably after the ring himself. "I don't think that is necessary, Ron," she answered coldly. "Not necessary? What gives, Hermione? This could be serious and I'm not leaving without that map." he yelled. When she saw how angry he was, Hermione felt ashamed. He was right, of course. Why on earth should she worry that he was after her ring? Ron was worried about her. "Fine. If it will stop you from bothering me, I'll do it right now." Sitting at the desk she pulled open a drawer, laid out a clean white sheet of paper, and quickly traced out the route she had taken as neatly as possible. Examining it one last time, she nodded in satisfaction and handed it over to Ron. He took it quickly, folded it, and stuffed it into one of the side pockets of sweat pants. "Dinner's ready!" came Hermione's mother's voice from down the hall. Hermione smiled at Ron and started towards the door. Ron moved quickly to block the exit. "What about the ring, Hermione? You haven't finished telling me about that," he said firmly. Automatically, she covered it with her hand and scowled. "You can't have it!" she said fiercely. Ron looked at her in astonishment. "I don't want it! I just want to know about it. What's the big deal?" "I don't have time to get into it now. We'll have to discuss it some other time. Excuse me, I'd like to go eat now." "Have it your way, Hermione, but we're not through. I want to know the whole story, and I want the truth this time. Promise me, Hermione," Ron said. "All right! I promise, now can I please go eat?" Hermione said in exasperation. Staring at her for a moment, Ron finally nodded grimly and stepped aside. Chapter 12 - Hermione Takes Flight Supper with Ron and her parents had been... interesting. Hermione knew that her mum and dad wanted to cut her ties to the wizarding world, but they were polite to Ron, and the Glamour Hat had gone a long way in breaking the ice. All through the meal Ron had set out to charm her parents, and Hermione decided that he had done a rather good job. He complimented her mother on the food, and engaged her father in a discussion about Humphrey Bogart. Her father had even gone so far to invite Ron back to watch some of his favourite Humphrey Bogart movies. Ron had matured this summer, mused Hermione. It was a staggering thought. It was a relief when her father finally decided to drive Ron back to the Burrow. His presence unnerved her. When not buttering up her parents, he spent the rest of the meal studying her. More than once she caught his eye and blushed beneath his intent gaze. Later, while her father was driving Ron back, her mother began to carefully dissect Hermione's relationship with Ron. "He seemed to be quite taken with you, Hermione," her mother began. "Ron is a rather nice young man, but do you think you are really ready for anything...like that?" Hermione opened her mouth, then shut it again when she realized that her mother had come up with a perfectly reasonable explanation for Ron's behavior, saving her the trouble of making one up. The very idea that Ron could care about her was ridiculous. As she sat half-listening to her mother's awkward attempt to have "the talk" with her, Hermione spun one lock of curly hair on her finger and thought about the way Ron had stared at her, and the way her breath had caught when his hand had brushed against her bare arm as he'd reached over the table for something. She had been about to scold him for his bad manners, when his fingers had lightly skimmed the pale skin on her arm and she'd been rendered speechless. Hermione scowled in remembrance. Her peppery words had been extinguished by a simple touch, and like a fool, she had turned even redder when Ron turned that innocent gaze of his on her. She bit her lip. It was almost as if he had done it on purpose. "And so, Hermione, while I know Ron is your very good friend, I think it would be best if you and he did not get romantically involved. He is, after all, a wizard - not that there is anything wrong with that of course - and you are... well, you don't have to be anything but an ordinary girl. You do see that, don't you Hermione?" implored her mother as she reached out to take Hermione's hand. As if her mother's hand had been a venomous snake, Hermione yanked her own hand back quickly. She stood up and stared in disgust into her mother's pleading eyes. "You're no better than they are! How can you possibly believe what you're saying? Do you honestly think that I need to stick with my own "kind"? When will you accept the fact that I am one of them. I am a witch. You should be ashamed of yourself!" Hermione wiped the tears from her face, and ran upstairs to her room. The wizarding world didn't want her because she wasn't a pureblood, and her parents wanted her to be a Muggle. There just didn't seem to be anywhere that she belonged. She tossed one of her teddy bears across the room. She would be a witch, even if it meant losing her parents. Now that she had the ring, she would make her own rules, and no one was going to stop her. Sitting on her bed in her room, she looked down at the ring and felt a sudden rush of satisfaction that Ron still didn't know its secrets. It was hers. Had her friends at Hogwarts seen her face at that moment, they would not have recognized it. It was the look of a dragon sitting on its hoard of gold, gloating with greedy satisfaction. Reluctantly, she tore her attention from the ring and dove back into her textbooks. She had purchased several books at Flourish and Blotts (delivered by owl post) and borrowed a few more from Hogwarts' library. Now that she had free reign to use any spell she chose, Hermione was determined to make the most of her unique opportunity, She had already mastered several dozen new spells, including the Memory Charm, since she planned to use it on Michael eventually. It was a tricky little spell, but after all, if Professor Lockhart had mastered it, it was obviously not impossible. There were so many spells for her to learn, and one in particular she was determined to master: Wingardium Altus. Hermione passed the day in her room absorbing countless spells from her books. There were love charms, hair hexes (Hermione felt her hair had achieved this look without aid from a hex), spells to make flowers bloom, and even a curse for putting runs in new pantyhose. She stayed up late studying the textbooks, and slept in the next morning. It was just as well, since that meant her parents had already left for work, thereby leaving Hermione alone and able to get started on her latest scheme. She showered quickly, wolfed down breakfast, and went through the side door into the garage. The heavy white garage door squeaked in protest as she pulled it down, and Hermione cast a charm to oil the hinges. Instantly, the screeching stopped. She waited in silence for a few moments then grinned in triumph. This is going to be terrific, thought Hermione. There was her bike, leaning up against the whitewashed wall of the garage. Its bright blue paint was a bit splattered with mud, and as she studied it critically, Hermione decided that the perhaps the tires needed a bit of air. She smirked. She would give her bike air, all right. More than it had ever seen before. She held up her wand and with a practiced flick of her wrist, cast the Flight Spell. "Wingardium Altus," Hermione said confidently. She had, after all, tested that particular spell a great deal in her room on her various stuffed animals and even on her dresser. Her father, fortunately, hadn't thought to look up when she unthinkingly invited him in while half of her furniture floated in a graceful waltz along the ceiling. Having worked on the exact parameters of the spell to insure that she could control her bike's flight with the handlebars, Hermione carefully invoked the Invisibility Spell, thankful she had already mastered that spell earlier in the summer, and made sure that the two spells didn't interfere with each other. It was perfect. The Invisibility Spell would be activated by her bell, and the Flight Spell would work with her bike's controls. Just in case, Hermione had practiced the Cushioning Spell, the same one Dumbledore had used when Harry fell off his broom during the Quidditch match. Of course, she needed to take the bike out for a test drive, but she glowed with pride. Strapping on her helmet, Hermione opened the garage door, and biked out, heading towards a small patch of woods where she would test the spells. ***** Hermione was flying - really flying. She laughed out loud when she imagined the look on Ron's face if he could see her now, soaring over the city in broad daylight! Of course he couldn't see her - no one could. The Invisibility Spell took care of that. How else would it be possible for Hermione Granger to be flying her bicycle over her old school yard? It was beautiful up here. Peaceful. Hermione felt alive, and something else she couldn't name. There was something singing in her veins. A fierceness bubbled up inside her. Was this the feeling of freedom? It seemed like more. Power. That was it. She felt powerful up here swooping and diving through the air while everyone else plodded along below her. Maybe this is what Harry felt when he was flitting around the Quidditch pitch. Well, he could keep his Firebolt - this was the only way to fly. Hermione circled overhead as she watched the children down below in the schoolyard. Some of the girls were jumping rope. She could see their hair bob up and down, and hear their familiar chants as the bright fluorescent rope turned. On the other side of the yard, dozens of boys and a few girls were yelling and chasing a ball. Then she saw her - a girl standing in a circle of children. She looked smaller than the rest of them, though it was hard to tell because she was looked like she was trying to curl herself up into a ball. Hermione felt sick. It was like watching a scene from her own past. Hadn't things changed at all? She drifted down lower and began to eavesdrop on the gang of children and the little girl in the centre. "Carrots! Four-eyes! Why did you go and snitch on us then? You little weasel. Trying to kiss up to the teachers as usual, aren't you?" "But," replied the girl, "it was dangerous. There might have been bees in the hive. You could have been hurt..." Hermione could barely hear her words as they drifted up to her overhead. She circled the children, seeing the sneers, closed fists, and slitted eyes all directed at the girl in the centre. Hermione could hear other words, angry words, still lingering in the back of her mind. "Buck-toothed beaver! Frizzy-haired freak! She's a flippin' nightmare!" Hermione nearly tipped off her bike when the first shriek erupted, and a strange humming cloud roared passed. She looked down in surprise at her wand; she hardly remembered taking it out. But they had been summoned, hundreds of angry bees, chasing the children who had been huddled around the girl. Only the little redheaded girl remained. She had stood transfixed as the bees chased the other children, crying and howling, into the school. She stared in amazement at the sky, where only moments ago, a dark swarm of bees had gathered. Now there were only clouds slipping past. Hermione grinned. How she would have loved the ability to do that to her tormentors. It felt delicious. She gave the girl one last look, hoping that the little redhead would appreciate the effort Hermione had taken to avenge her, and flew off. Chapter 13 - Strange Days Indeed Ron watched the hands on the clock anxiously, and scowled. "Not Yet, Toadface," they mocked him. Where did his father get these stupid things? First a flirtatious mirror, and now a smart aleck clock. He continued to work, but his mind was on Hermione. Seeing her in her own home had somehow changed his perspective of her. He had seen how taut Mrs. Granger's face had been, and how nervously her hands had fluttered around the kitchen as she'd made supper. And Mr. Granger. He had looked explosive when he'd first spotted Ron in the backyard. Ron grimaced. It wasn't the sort of impression he'd wanted to make on Hermione's parents. Finally, the hands on the clock rested on, "Go Stuff Your Pie-Hole," and Ron bolted out of the office. He wanted to get to the archives and check out those maps, to see if the well Hermione had found was really a Wishing Well. He hadn't been able to get away from his father for several days, and he was itching to discover the truth, not only about the well, but about that ring too. He was going to dig up those files Hermione had been looking at when he'd confronted her in the Ministry's Archives. If she wasn't going to tell him about the ring, he was going to find out himself. Hermione wasn't the only one who could do a bit of research when necessary. He'd found lots of stuff on Buckbeak that one time, not that they'd needed it in the end. Thinking of the hippogriff reminded Ron of Harry. Harry, mate, I really could use your help right now, thought Ron with a sigh. Out in the hall he was surprised to find some of the other summer employees in a huddle. "What's going on?" Ron asked. One boy looked down his long, thin nose and sneered, "You mean you haven't heard? Can't your dad afford a wireless for his office?" One girl giggled, but the others shifted uncomfortably as the two boys glowered at each other. Another boy, larger than the rest, stood between Ron and the sneering boy whose name, Ron remembered, was Brutus. "You've noticed that all the senior officers are in conference? Well, I guess the Ministry has been trying to keep it quiet, but Rita Skeeter has just blown the whole story wide open," explained the older boy, who reminded Ron a bit of Cedric. "What story?" asked Ron. "Apparently there have been some bizarre things happening in the Muggle world. The apple trees in Queen's Park have all bloomed out of season, and there are rumours that several statues in the park have been assaulting people. The Wizard's Wireless is speculating that someone is abusing magic, but the thing is, we haven't heard anything," he answered with a frown. "What do you mean?" demanded Ron. "What he means, Measly-Weasley, is that the Ministry is trying to track the spells, but there's not a trace of magic anywhere. Nothing," answered Brutus. Ron was too distracted by this latest information to bother with the insult offered by Brutus, though he made a mental note to let the little Death Eater-in-Training have it at the very next opportunity. Ron thanked the other boy and walked downstairs, absent-mindedly rubbing his stomach where his hunger pangs had suddenly been replaced by a gnawing sense of fear. He continued on to the archives, where he hoped to find at least some of the answers he needed. Ron ignored the ghost at the desk and headed straight to the back room where the files were kept. Finding the box Hermione had been looking at wasn't that difficult. He could see her footprints in the dust, and followed them to the correct fonds. However, he had little success finding the map he needed. He began to open boxes and files, but with no luck. How on earth did Hermione ever manage to find anything in here? He marched out of the archives and confronted the ghost. "I need a map showing where all the Wishing Wells in England are," he stated curtly. "WHAT?" bellowed the ghost, spitting out a little puff of foul smelling dust as he did so. Gross, thought Ron. Ghost breath. Ron leaned over the desk and pinned the ghost with a steely-eyed glare. He shouted as loudly as he could. "I need a bloody MAP of all the Wishing Wells in England! Now go FETCH it!" The ghost looked shocked, and grew a little more transparent as he answered, "Yes, certainly. There is no need to yell, young man," and hurried off. Ron grunted in satisfaction and plunked himself down behind one of the tables to explore the box's contents. He guffawed at Neville's transgression and studied some of the more bizarre infractions with interest, but he didn't have to wait long. The ghost drifted back with the files floating alongside of him. Ron snatched the files away without bothering to look up. The ghost sniffed and returned to his desk grumbling, leaving Ron behind, absorbed in his studies. Elbows on the table and slouching comfortably, Ron picked up the slim volume he remembered Hermione studying and turned to the table of contents. Skimming quickly, he found the chapter he was looking for: Magical Artifacts. He read the paragraphs about artifacts quickly, until his eyes fell upon the words, "The Ring of Destiny." A sudden feeling of urgency gripped him as he began pawing through the messy stack of papers for the map the ghost had given him. Heedlessly pulling the fragile map open, tearing it on one of its worn folds, Ron ran his finger over the faded surface, and stopped when it came to the same area where Hermione had drawn a red cross on her map. He leaned back in his chair and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his robes, where Hermione's neatly drawn map was tucked. He didn't bother to stop and admire the carefully drawn lines and precise instructions she had drawn this time. He put Hermione's map next to the Ministry's map and studied both of them. There was no mistaking it, they were a perfect match. Suddenly, a pictured formed in Ron's mind. He saw Hermione falling off her bike and wandering into the woods. She spotted the well, bent over to look in, and at that moment her gold locket must have dropped down into the water. Then she must have made a wish! But what had she wished for? The ancient magic in those wells was so unpredictable. Ron didn't know all the details, but he had heard enough stories from his father about Muggles who had gotten what they had wished for to know that Wishing Wells were fickle, dangerous magic. Then Hermione had found the ring. It couldn't have been a coincidence. Ron remembered too well the look on her face when she had accused him of wanting the ring for himself. He leaned back and closed his eyes, letting out a breath of air in a loud woosh. The Ring of Destiny. He didn't like the sound of that. It all fit, though - the well, the ring, Hermione's strange behavior. It all made sense. Ron gasped. Even the trouble in the Muggle world. Hermione must be the one responsible for it! Ron bolted from the archives without bothering to clean up the stacks of papers and ran up the stairs back to his father's office. He had to make up some excuse so he could leave, find Hermione and get that ring away from her. Ron panted as he tore down the hall, his robes flapping behind him. He stopped when he saw that the crowd of people standing in the hall had grown. He could hear their hushed whispers as he approached. "What's going on now?" he wheezed, still out of breath. "More magic in the Muggle world. Those stupid Muggles are claiming that some "Tooth Fairy" is going around fixing teeth. So far 10 children and 2 adults have reported having their teeth mysteriously straightened," said Brutus snorted. "They're not stupid, Brutus they're..." Ron began hotly, then his voice trailed off. Teeth. Teeth. Great Merlin's Ghost! Hermione's had gone nutters for sure this time! He had to stop her before some Muggle got hurt, or worse, the Ministry caught her, tossed her in Azkaban, and threw away the key. |
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