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The room they entered was bright white. It was the most sterile looking room Ron had ever seen, and he had to admit, Hermione kept things pretty damn clean. He grimaced at the thought; he didn’t know how he would react when he saw her. There was a single bed in the middle of the room. He walked over to it.
She looked so small. He had never really thought of Hermione as small, true she was a good deal shorter than him, but her personality was just so big he guessed it made up for it. But there was no personality in this person. She just laid there, not moving. He sat down in a chair next to the bed and held her limp hand. Hugo came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. Ron looked up and saw only his son; he scanned the room for signs of Rose.
Rose stood by the door. She couldn’t do it. This was all too much. She couldn’t remember the last civil conversation she had with her mother, they were all either insignificant, or ended in yelling. The last time, they ended up screaming so much at each other Rose didn’t have a voice the next day. They always fought about the same thing, or at least it always ended up at the same thing, Rose’s schooling in America and her job (or lack thereof) in the Ministry.
A part of her was too ashamed of how she acted toward her mother. Another part was sure that Hermione wouldn’t want her in there anyway.
“What the bloody hell are you doing over there?” Ron asked.
Rose shrugged.
“Come here,”
Rose took a few small steps into the room and stopped.
“All the way over here,”
“What’s the matter Rose,” Hugo asked, “you were pretty assertive with those receptionists about wanting to see her. Well there you go.” He looked annoyed at her reluctance.
“I dunno,” she replied in a small voice, “Do you really think she’d want me here?”
“Don’t be stupid Rose,” Hugo was clearly annoyed with her now.
“Hugo, leave her alone,” Ron was more sympathetic, “Of course she would Rosie.”
“In case you didn’t notice Dad, we didn’t really get along,”
“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you,”
“Please don’t give me that again Dad. I think I’m going to go home. I can’t remember the last time I slept. I’m really tired,”
“Alright sweetheart,” Ron looked a little disappointed, “you get some rest.” He went over and kissed her sweetly on the forehead.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rose had been trying to sleep for over two hours. She was exhausted, yes, but visions of her unconscious mother, their last argument, and her brain’s own rendering of what happened at the attack kept her restless.
Finally, she gave up. She got out of her bed and made her way downstairs. It was obvious that no one had been home in a while. She sat at the kitchen table, which was strewn with The Daily Prophet from two days ago, along with the plans of the mission her father must have been working on.
She tried eating something, but she wasn’t hungry either. After she had wondered the house a good four times, she decided it wasn’t working. She put on her shoes and grabbed a coat and went out into the brisk, early morning air.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ron sat alone in Hermione’s hospital room (except, of course, for Hermione). As he looked at her lying there, he was reminded of all the times they had ended up at the hospital wing at Hogwarts. In particular, the time Hermione had been petrified. He felt the same today as he did when he was thirteen and his best friend had been attacked by an ancient monster living secretly in the bowels of the school.
Man, they had really been through some shit.
He sighed and shook his head to himself.
“What’s the matter?” Hugo came back in the room with a plate of food. “I got you Shepard’s pie,”
“Thanks,” he took the plate and stared to eat. He didn’t realize how hungry he was until he started eating.
“What was with the sigh and the head shake thing? Is everything ok?” he looked concerned.
“I was just thinking about all the times we ended up in the hospital wing at school,” he gave a little laugh, “your mother, Harry, and I were there far more than one would hope for.”
“Really?” Hugo looked interested, “Like why?”
“Oh you know, loads of things,” he looked a little uneasy. He hadn’t wanted to provoke questions. He, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny had decided not to tell the children any details. Investigations about their time in the hospital wing would certainly unearth details.
Hugo looked unconvinced. Suddenly Ron had a burst of genius.
“You know Quidditch injuries and such,” he inwardly congratulated himself on his clever dodge.
However, Hugo continued to look confused, “But Mom doesn’t play Quidditch. She can hardly ride a broom,” Damn, maybe he wasn’t as clever as he thought.
“Hence the amount of time spent in the hospital,”
“But…”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m going to eat the rest of this.” He pointed to the half eaten Shepard’s pie on his plate.
Hugo rolled his eyes.
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Rose had wandered around close to home for some time. She got bored and apparated into London. It was still fairly early in the morning, so the streets were rather empty. She walked around aimlessly, just trying to think through the events of the last few days.
London had always been one of her favorite places. One thing she truly did miss while she was in America was being able to wander around London and enjoy herself. New York City was close enough to school, but New York was no London. She had discovered that last summer.
She hadn’t been paying attention to where she was going. When she did look up, she noticed she was standing in front of a bright red phone booth. She knew this place; she had been here numerous times before. It was interesting that her subconscious mind had brought her here.
There, in front of her, was the visitor’s entrance to the Ministry of Magic.
She didn’t know what possessed her to do it, but she got into the tight space. On the broken phone, she punched in a four-digit code. It was a special code they had given to the family of the Minister so they could get in without having to deal with security.
When she got to the atrium, it was almost deserted. Most people had not come into work yet. The night watchman was still at the security desk, looking like he was asleep. Rose crept as silently as possible to the elevators, not wanting to wake him and draw attention to herself.
She rode the elevator until she heard the female voice, “Level One: Minister of Magic and Support Staff.”
She stepped out of the elevator and her feet brought her down the hall until she reached a pair of dark wood doors. She hesitated for a moment before pushing the doors open.
Hermione’s office was a large round room. Right opposite the door was her large desk. The desk would have been ornate and intimidating had it not been for the multitude of papers and books on and around it. To the right of the door were small couches set up as a sort of sitting area. This too was covered in books. There were also bookcases on most of the free wall space. They all were full. There were a few paintings of people Rose didn’t know on the walls.
Rose walked across the room and sat in the large chair behind her mother’s desk. She scanned the contents of it. Intermingled with the piles of papers and books were a few moving pictures in frames. There was one with both her parents and Uncle Harry from Hogwarts. There was a family photo from maybe ten years ago. Rose had just gotten her Hogwarts letter when that picture was taken. There was one of Hermione and Ginny at some family event, as well as one of Hermione and Ron on vacation. Then, Rose’s eye caught the largest picture on the desk. It was of both of them. She remembered taking the picture. It was at her Hogwarts graduation. They looked so…happy. She was sure that was the last time they were that happy together. She felt a tear escape her eye. She really had to quit it with the crying thing.
“Well you have certainly grown up,” a voice behind her startled her so much she almost fell out of the chair.
“W-who said that?” she looked around frantically, but she didn’t see anyone in the room.
“Over here,”
Rose looked behind her and saw the source of the voice. The portrait behind the desk gave her a warm smile.
“Oh, um, hi,” she was used to portraits talking to her, but she was still getting over the shock. “Do I know you?”
“I’m quite sure you know of me, yes,” the portrait’s eye’s twinkled, “I am Albus Dumbledore. Former Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”
“You’re Dumbledore!” she was having a conversation with possibly the most famous man (besides maybe Uncle Harry) in wizarding history, who, by the way, had been dead for years. She really thought she was going crazy now. “But I thought you were…aren’t you supposed to be…”
“Dead?” the portrait finished for her, “Of course. I am just a portrait of Dumbledore, portraits don’t die.”
Rose felt kind of stupid. She knew that. She didn’t know why this was freaking her out so much; maybe she had spent a little too much time in the Muggle world. Then something hit her, “You said I’ve grown up. Do you know me?”
“Well between this portrait here in your mother’s office and the one I have in the Headmaster’s Office at Hogwarts, I would like to say yes I do Miss Weasley,”
“Oh,” she looked away. She and her cousins had certainly had their fair share of trips to the Headmaster’s office when they were in school.
“I believe the last time I saw you was right before you left Hogwarts. You were speaking to Headmaster Martin about your graduation ceremony,”
“Wow, you have a really good memory,”
“What, you don’t remember it?”
“No, I do. I had to make a speech, but I didn’t want to…”
“Ah yes, I have often wondered if you ended up making that speech,”
“I did. Headmaster Martin made me, no Head Boy or Girl had ever refused before,”
“I am sure he thought you making the speech was very…”
“I think the word he used was cyclical. I think he used the word wrong,”
“Yes, I agree, that situation was more linear wasn’t it,”
Rose couldn’t help but smile. That’s exactly what she had said at the time. “Yeah, my mother made the speech 25 years before, I made it then, that’s a straight line.”
Dumbledore laughed. “You certainly are rational,”
“Thank you,”
“What brings you to the Ministry so early? You haven’t been in this office in years,”
“I know. I’m not really sure why I’m here. I just couldn’t stay at the hospital. I went for a walk and ended up here,”
“There must be something that brought you here. What a terrible thought, that we just wander around aimlessly through life,”
“Not through life, just through London,” she thought for a moment, “I guess I was thinking about my mom, so I ended up here, in her office.”
Dumbledore didn’t say anything. He just let Rose continue to think.
“We didn’t get along. Did you know that? I’m pretty sure the last time we saw each other I told her I hated her. What kind of daughter says that? I’m a terrible person.”
“You’re not a terrible person,” he replied, “I have met terrible people, and you are quite far from it. I feel you don’t hate your mother, you just don’t understand her,” he thought for a moment, “and possibly she doesn’t understand you.”
Rose look confused, “What do you mean?”
“We tend to grow close to the people we have similar experiences with, with people whose situation we understand. For example, you and your cousins all share a similar experience of being children of famous parents. You understand what the other is going through, what its like. You’re close.”
Rose nodded slowly.
“Now, in contrast, what do you know about your mother’s situation?”
“Um, she’s the Minister, she’s kind of bossy, I don’t know,”
“Exactly, you’re not able to sympathize with your mother because you don’t understand what she went through, and vise versa I would assume.”
“So…” she understood what he was saying, but she didn’t know why he was saying it.
“My suggestion would be to find out more about Hermione Granger,” Rose gave him a funny look, “Sorry, Weasley, old habits die hard you know. See what it was like to live her life.”
“But, she’s in a coma. I can’t very well talk to her right now,”
“And I thought you were the brightest witch we’ve seen in decades,” he waited while she put it together.
“Books!” her smile quickly faded, “But what would I learn from books that I don’t already know. I lived with the woman, and we learned all about the war and stuff in school,”
“Ah my dear, you learned the school version of the war when you were younger,”
“You mean there’s stuff they didn’t tell us?” Rose didn’t know whether to be intrigued or outraged.
“I would suggest the large red volume over there,” he pointed toward the couches, “to start.”
She walked over to the sitting area and pulled a large red leather book off one of the tables. Embossed in gold on the cover was the title: The Rise and Fall, and Rise, and Fall of Lord Voldemort. She sat back on the couch and opened the volume to the first chapter: “Tom Riddle”
She looked so small. He had never really thought of Hermione as small, true she was a good deal shorter than him, but her personality was just so big he guessed it made up for it. But there was no personality in this person. She just laid there, not moving. He sat down in a chair next to the bed and held her limp hand. Hugo came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. Ron looked up and saw only his son; he scanned the room for signs of Rose.
Rose stood by the door. She couldn’t do it. This was all too much. She couldn’t remember the last civil conversation she had with her mother, they were all either insignificant, or ended in yelling. The last time, they ended up screaming so much at each other Rose didn’t have a voice the next day. They always fought about the same thing, or at least it always ended up at the same thing, Rose’s schooling in America and her job (or lack thereof) in the Ministry.
A part of her was too ashamed of how she acted toward her mother. Another part was sure that Hermione wouldn’t want her in there anyway.
“What the bloody hell are you doing over there?” Ron asked.
Rose shrugged.
“Come here,”
Rose took a few small steps into the room and stopped.
“All the way over here,”
“What’s the matter Rose,” Hugo asked, “you were pretty assertive with those receptionists about wanting to see her. Well there you go.” He looked annoyed at her reluctance.
“I dunno,” she replied in a small voice, “Do you really think she’d want me here?”
“Don’t be stupid Rose,” Hugo was clearly annoyed with her now.
“Hugo, leave her alone,” Ron was more sympathetic, “Of course she would Rosie.”
“In case you didn’t notice Dad, we didn’t really get along,”
“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you,”
“Please don’t give me that again Dad. I think I’m going to go home. I can’t remember the last time I slept. I’m really tired,”
“Alright sweetheart,” Ron looked a little disappointed, “you get some rest.” He went over and kissed her sweetly on the forehead.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rose had been trying to sleep for over two hours. She was exhausted, yes, but visions of her unconscious mother, their last argument, and her brain’s own rendering of what happened at the attack kept her restless.
Finally, she gave up. She got out of her bed and made her way downstairs. It was obvious that no one had been home in a while. She sat at the kitchen table, which was strewn with The Daily Prophet from two days ago, along with the plans of the mission her father must have been working on.
She tried eating something, but she wasn’t hungry either. After she had wondered the house a good four times, she decided it wasn’t working. She put on her shoes and grabbed a coat and went out into the brisk, early morning air.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ron sat alone in Hermione’s hospital room (except, of course, for Hermione). As he looked at her lying there, he was reminded of all the times they had ended up at the hospital wing at Hogwarts. In particular, the time Hermione had been petrified. He felt the same today as he did when he was thirteen and his best friend had been attacked by an ancient monster living secretly in the bowels of the school.
Man, they had really been through some shit.
He sighed and shook his head to himself.
“What’s the matter?” Hugo came back in the room with a plate of food. “I got you Shepard’s pie,”
“Thanks,” he took the plate and stared to eat. He didn’t realize how hungry he was until he started eating.
“What was with the sigh and the head shake thing? Is everything ok?” he looked concerned.
“I was just thinking about all the times we ended up in the hospital wing at school,” he gave a little laugh, “your mother, Harry, and I were there far more than one would hope for.”
“Really?” Hugo looked interested, “Like why?”
“Oh you know, loads of things,” he looked a little uneasy. He hadn’t wanted to provoke questions. He, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny had decided not to tell the children any details. Investigations about their time in the hospital wing would certainly unearth details.
Hugo looked unconvinced. Suddenly Ron had a burst of genius.
“You know Quidditch injuries and such,” he inwardly congratulated himself on his clever dodge.
However, Hugo continued to look confused, “But Mom doesn’t play Quidditch. She can hardly ride a broom,” Damn, maybe he wasn’t as clever as he thought.
“Hence the amount of time spent in the hospital,”
“But…”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m going to eat the rest of this.” He pointed to the half eaten Shepard’s pie on his plate.
Hugo rolled his eyes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rose had wandered around close to home for some time. She got bored and apparated into London. It was still fairly early in the morning, so the streets were rather empty. She walked around aimlessly, just trying to think through the events of the last few days.
London had always been one of her favorite places. One thing she truly did miss while she was in America was being able to wander around London and enjoy herself. New York City was close enough to school, but New York was no London. She had discovered that last summer.
She hadn’t been paying attention to where she was going. When she did look up, she noticed she was standing in front of a bright red phone booth. She knew this place; she had been here numerous times before. It was interesting that her subconscious mind had brought her here.
There, in front of her, was the visitor’s entrance to the Ministry of Magic.
She didn’t know what possessed her to do it, but she got into the tight space. On the broken phone, she punched in a four-digit code. It was a special code they had given to the family of the Minister so they could get in without having to deal with security.
When she got to the atrium, it was almost deserted. Most people had not come into work yet. The night watchman was still at the security desk, looking like he was asleep. Rose crept as silently as possible to the elevators, not wanting to wake him and draw attention to herself.
She rode the elevator until she heard the female voice, “Level One: Minister of Magic and Support Staff.”
She stepped out of the elevator and her feet brought her down the hall until she reached a pair of dark wood doors. She hesitated for a moment before pushing the doors open.
Hermione’s office was a large round room. Right opposite the door was her large desk. The desk would have been ornate and intimidating had it not been for the multitude of papers and books on and around it. To the right of the door were small couches set up as a sort of sitting area. This too was covered in books. There were also bookcases on most of the free wall space. They all were full. There were a few paintings of people Rose didn’t know on the walls.
Rose walked across the room and sat in the large chair behind her mother’s desk. She scanned the contents of it. Intermingled with the piles of papers and books were a few moving pictures in frames. There was one with both her parents and Uncle Harry from Hogwarts. There was a family photo from maybe ten years ago. Rose had just gotten her Hogwarts letter when that picture was taken. There was one of Hermione and Ginny at some family event, as well as one of Hermione and Ron on vacation. Then, Rose’s eye caught the largest picture on the desk. It was of both of them. She remembered taking the picture. It was at her Hogwarts graduation. They looked so…happy. She was sure that was the last time they were that happy together. She felt a tear escape her eye. She really had to quit it with the crying thing.
“Well you have certainly grown up,” a voice behind her startled her so much she almost fell out of the chair.
“W-who said that?” she looked around frantically, but she didn’t see anyone in the room.
“Over here,”
Rose looked behind her and saw the source of the voice. The portrait behind the desk gave her a warm smile.
“Oh, um, hi,” she was used to portraits talking to her, but she was still getting over the shock. “Do I know you?”
“I’m quite sure you know of me, yes,” the portrait’s eye’s twinkled, “I am Albus Dumbledore. Former Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”
“You’re Dumbledore!” she was having a conversation with possibly the most famous man (besides maybe Uncle Harry) in wizarding history, who, by the way, had been dead for years. She really thought she was going crazy now. “But I thought you were…aren’t you supposed to be…”
“Dead?” the portrait finished for her, “Of course. I am just a portrait of Dumbledore, portraits don’t die.”
Rose felt kind of stupid. She knew that. She didn’t know why this was freaking her out so much; maybe she had spent a little too much time in the Muggle world. Then something hit her, “You said I’ve grown up. Do you know me?”
“Well between this portrait here in your mother’s office and the one I have in the Headmaster’s Office at Hogwarts, I would like to say yes I do Miss Weasley,”
“Oh,” she looked away. She and her cousins had certainly had their fair share of trips to the Headmaster’s office when they were in school.
“I believe the last time I saw you was right before you left Hogwarts. You were speaking to Headmaster Martin about your graduation ceremony,”
“Wow, you have a really good memory,”
“What, you don’t remember it?”
“No, I do. I had to make a speech, but I didn’t want to…”
“Ah yes, I have often wondered if you ended up making that speech,”
“I did. Headmaster Martin made me, no Head Boy or Girl had ever refused before,”
“I am sure he thought you making the speech was very…”
“I think the word he used was cyclical. I think he used the word wrong,”
“Yes, I agree, that situation was more linear wasn’t it,”
Rose couldn’t help but smile. That’s exactly what she had said at the time. “Yeah, my mother made the speech 25 years before, I made it then, that’s a straight line.”
Dumbledore laughed. “You certainly are rational,”
“Thank you,”
“What brings you to the Ministry so early? You haven’t been in this office in years,”
“I know. I’m not really sure why I’m here. I just couldn’t stay at the hospital. I went for a walk and ended up here,”
“There must be something that brought you here. What a terrible thought, that we just wander around aimlessly through life,”
“Not through life, just through London,” she thought for a moment, “I guess I was thinking about my mom, so I ended up here, in her office.”
Dumbledore didn’t say anything. He just let Rose continue to think.
“We didn’t get along. Did you know that? I’m pretty sure the last time we saw each other I told her I hated her. What kind of daughter says that? I’m a terrible person.”
“You’re not a terrible person,” he replied, “I have met terrible people, and you are quite far from it. I feel you don’t hate your mother, you just don’t understand her,” he thought for a moment, “and possibly she doesn’t understand you.”
Rose look confused, “What do you mean?”
“We tend to grow close to the people we have similar experiences with, with people whose situation we understand. For example, you and your cousins all share a similar experience of being children of famous parents. You understand what the other is going through, what its like. You’re close.”
Rose nodded slowly.
“Now, in contrast, what do you know about your mother’s situation?”
“Um, she’s the Minister, she’s kind of bossy, I don’t know,”
“Exactly, you’re not able to sympathize with your mother because you don’t understand what she went through, and vise versa I would assume.”
“So…” she understood what he was saying, but she didn’t know why he was saying it.
“My suggestion would be to find out more about Hermione Granger,” Rose gave him a funny look, “Sorry, Weasley, old habits die hard you know. See what it was like to live her life.”
“But, she’s in a coma. I can’t very well talk to her right now,”
“And I thought you were the brightest witch we’ve seen in decades,” he waited while she put it together.
“Books!” her smile quickly faded, “But what would I learn from books that I don’t already know. I lived with the woman, and we learned all about the war and stuff in school,”
“Ah my dear, you learned the school version of the war when you were younger,”
“You mean there’s stuff they didn’t tell us?” Rose didn’t know whether to be intrigued or outraged.
“I would suggest the large red volume over there,” he pointed toward the couches, “to start.”
She walked over to the sitting area and pulled a large red leather book off one of the tables. Embossed in gold on the cover was the title: The Rise and Fall, and Rise, and Fall of Lord Voldemort. She sat back on the couch and opened the volume to the first chapter: “Tom Riddle”
