Eleven Years Later: Special Delivery
Title: Eleven Years Later: Special Delivery
Author: kanedax
Spoilers: Deathly Hallows & Previous Chapters
Characters/Pairings: Teddy Lupin/H.C. Granger (OC)
Word count: 3,712 words
Summary: Teddy gets his letter
Notes: This is a chapter I’ve been waiting to write for months now. Hopefully it turns out well in the end. Headington is real, and is/was attended by Emma Watson (link!). Also, anyone new to this series might do well to start back at the beginning, or else they may be very confused by this chapter.
I own Hermione Caroline Granger and her battle companions. All others belong to JK Rowling
The Financial Diviner / Previous Chapters / Bedtime Story
“Oh, no,” Hermione groaned as her group crested the hill. “A troll.”
“Do you think we can take it?” asked Brad from beside her. “Is everyone ready?”
“I’m skilled enough, bub,” said Logan from Hermione’s other side. Hermione rolled her eyes, but decided to not comment on Logan’s cheesiness.
“Yeah,” said Cray, the rookie of the group. Hermione could here an edge of nerves in the woman’s voice. “Yeah, I’m ready for this.”
“You’d better be,” said Hermione, pulling her wand. “Because it sees us.”
Sure enough, the troll had turned their way. Its eyes widened in surprise, and, with a roaring bellow, charged at the quartet.
“Brad, Logan, each of you take one side,” said Hermione quickly. “That way it can only attack one of you at a time.”
“Thank you so much,” said Brad sarcastically. “Lord knows I’ll be able to avoid the hits like Wolverine over there.”
“Says you,” said Logan with a smirk, and the two men charged toward the beast.
“You can handle the damage, don’t worry,” said Hermione. “You’re tough. Cray, do you know any slowing spells?”
“I think so,” said Cray. “Hang on, let me think…”
“Think fast,” said Hermione, circling around outside of the melee, where Brad and Logan were battling the huge beast. She waved her wand, and two fireballs flew at the troll.
“Can you try lighting its club on fire?” Logan yelled as he jumped at the troll, climbing up its back and getting it three clawed punches before the monster tossed him twenty yards away.
“Oh, shit!” Brad yelled as the behemoth turned its attention toward its closest opponent. “Someone get in here, I don’t think I can handle it myself!”
“Cray, use Stupefy?” Hermione screamed.
“What’s Stupefy?” Cray said, standing motionless. “I don’t think I know that one.”
“Yeah, what’s Stupefy?” asked Logan, who was slowly pushing himself to his feet.
Shit, Hermione thought. Shouldn’t have said that. “A stunning spell!” she said as the troll picked Brad up by his neck, his sword falling uselessly to the ground. “Do you know any stunning spells?”
“I know a sleep spell?”
“Then use it!” Hermione yelled. “My fireballs aren’t having much of an effect.”
“Okay, okay!” Cray called back. “Hang on, I’m looking for one!”
“Someone do something!” Brad yelled. “I don’t have a lot of energy left!”
“Damn it,” Hermione muttered. “Maybe a freeze spell…”
She waved her wand, and a burst of white frigid air erupted from its tip. The troll, forgetting about Brad, turned towards Hermione and charged, but as he got close enough for Hermione to see the whites of its eyes, it stopped dead in its tracks. Hermione looked down to see that its feet were encased in ice. Its upper half, however…
“Cray, we could use that sleep spell!” Hermione yelled. “I don’t think we can get to it, he’s flailing too much.”
“I found it!” Cray yelled. She raised her lute and strummed a short melody. The ogre slowed its swinging. Its eyes drooped, its head fell forward, and it began to snore.
“Okay, someone finish it,” Hermione said.
“I’ll do it,” Brad said, but Hermione could see that he was having difficulty standing. He looked around to retrieve his weapon. “Wait,” he said. “Where’s my sword?”
“My sword now, bub!” Logan yelled, flying into the picture. Before anyone could react, he made the kill, stabbing the troll in the back of the neck with Brad’s broadsword. The troll awoke, just long enough to scream in agony before evaporating into a plume of smoke.
“What the fuck, Logan?” Brad said. “That was my kill!”
“You were too slow, bub,” said Logan.
“Yeah, because the troll knocked me for a loop!” Brad replied. “And you used my sword!”
“I’m a Rogue,” said Logan. “I can use whatever weaponry I find. We all got the experience, anyway. Good spellcasting, Cray.”
“Thanks,” Cray replied. “It took me a while to find that one, I didn’t even know I knew it.”
“What’s a Stupefy, Harmony?” Brad asked as they collected their spoils. “I’ve never heard of that spell before.”
“Oh, yeah, well,” Hermione said, trying to think quickly. “It’s… it’s my brother-in-law’s thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“Yeah… umm… he’s… I play Dungeons and Dragons with him sometimes. He’s our DM, and he made up some special spells for one of his campaigns. I guess it sort of stuck.”
“Weird name,” said Brad, taking his sword back from Logan.
“Yeah, well, he is an odd one,” said Hermione, breathing a sigh of relief that the questions didn’t delve any further.
“You play D&D?” Logan asked. “That’s cool.”
“Occasionally…”
“Where are you from?” Logan continued. “You have an accent. Are you British?”
“I don’t like to talk about where I’m from,” said Hermione. “I want to keep some privacy around here.”
“Married?”
“Is it any of your business?”
“Well, you’re kind of cute,” Logan said.
Hermione sighed, realizing that she never should have dressed herself in anything quite so skimpy. “Are you hitting on me?”
“I just don’t see a lot of women around here, that’s all.”
“Hey!” Cray yelled indignantly.
“Well, I already read your profile,” Logan said to the rookie. “You’re forty. Too old for me. But Harmony doesn’t have a profile, so I’m just asking.”
“It’s not Harmony,” Hermione replied. “And I’m eleven.”
Logan stood stock still. “Shit…”
And he disappeared.
“Pervert,” Brad said. “Probably just looking for a good fuck.”
“It’s alright,” said Hermione. “Not my fault that they make every woman in this game look like some big-boobied trollop.” She looked down at her body, with its leather-enclosed D-cups and bare midriff.
“Oh, damn, you’re eleven,” said Brad. “I should be watching my language.”
“It’s alright,” said Hermione. “I hear worse at school, believe me.”
“He was kind of a creep, anyway,” said Cray. “And what’s with all the ‘bub’ talk?”
“His username’s Logan616,” said Brad, sheathing his sword. “My guess he’s a big Wolverine fan, and wanted to get the full experience in. Claws and all.”
“Asshole should go buy the Marvel MMORPG and leave us alone,” said Hermione with a sigh. “I’m going to report him as soon as I leave.”
“No need,” said Brad. “I already did.”
“How do you do that, anyway?” asked Cray. “Could you guys send me the instructions? I’m sure he won’t be the last creep I run into.”
“Here’s the link to the FAQ,” said Brad.
“Thanks,” Cray said. “So your name’s not Harmony?”
“No, it’s Her-my-oh-nee,” Hermione said slowly for the five hundredth time in her life.
“Oh,” said Cray. “Sounds like Harmony if you say it fast. Especially with your accent.”
“Are you from America?”
“Kansas City.”
“Where’d you get a name like that, anyway?” Brad asked Hermione. “It’s… different.”
“I got it from my parents.”
“Oh, it’s your real name?” asked Brad. “What’s it mean? Is it English?”
“It’s Shakespearean,” said Hermione. “My parents are odd that way.”
“Caroline!”
“Who was that?” Brad asked.
“Caroline, come downstairs!”
“That’s my Mum,” Hermione said with a sigh. “I’ll be down in a minute!”
“I thought you said your name was Hermione?” Cray asked. “Why is your Mom calling you Caroline?”
“It’s… complicated,” said Hermione. “My parents are odd. But, trust me, I’m Hermione. I have to go in a few minutes.”
“Do we want to exchange codes?” asked Cray. “For another campaign?”
“Yeah, definitely,” said Brad. “We’re going to have to find another fourth, though. I have a friend who’s a Necromancer. He might be able to join up.”
“No Necromancers,” said Hermione. “I want to fight the Dark Arts, not take part in them.”
“Are you playing that stupid game?”
“No!”
“What’s wrong with Necromancers?” asked Brad. “It’s just a game. It’s not like you’re getting into some sort of cult.”
“Personal choice,” said Hermione. “I know enough people with enough bad experience with Dark Magic.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Shit!”
Hermione Caroline Granger whipped her head around so quickly that her headphones were nearly pulled from the jack on her computer. She heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
“My Mum’s coming, I have to go,” she said quickly into the microphone of her headphones. “E-mail me your codes, okay?”
“No problem,” said Brad_Pitts_Clone through her headphones, the armored Knight on her monitor.
“Take care,” said CrayolaGrl, the rookie Bard, as Hermione quickly flipped off her computer’s power, pulled herself from her swivel chair, and launched herself onto her bed.
God, you were an idiot just then, she thought to herself, thinking back to the earlier slip of her tongue. Her sister (the other Hermione, Hermione Jean Weasley) would always look nervous whenever Hermione asked her or her brother-in-law about magic. But that didn’t stop Ron from showing Hermione about all of the cool things that could be done with a wand. And it didn’t stop him from telling her about other not-so-cool things that could be done that he couldn’t demonstrate without someone getting hurt.
Ever since she started playing those types of video games, World of Warcraft, Everquest, Final Fantasy, she had begun to mentally make the connections between the spells in the game and the spells in the real world. Float equals Wingardium Leviosa. Fira or Fireball equals Incendio. Stop equals Petrificus Totalus.
Muddle, Confuse, Stun all equaled Stupefy.
At least I was able to cover myself, she thought. But I’ll have to watch what I say in the future.
She grabbed the closest book she could get a hold of (The Golden Compass, she noticed just peripherally) right as a knock came on her door.
“I’ll be down in a minute!” she yelled. “I just have to finish this chapter!” She flipped to a page near the end of a chapter, just in case her Mum opened the door to check on her instead of taking her word as answer enough.
“Hermione, it’s me!” came a voice that wasn’t her Mum. It was a voice that caused her to sit up and for her stomach to flip, just like it always did.
“Come in, Ted!” she yelled, and her stomach did another flip as the door opened and Ted Lupin entered.
Hermione always wished that she could introduce her best friend to her friends at school. She wondered what kind of reaction he would get from them. He’s cute for an eleven-year-old, she thought for not the first time. Most witches and wizards might believe that, as a metamorphmagus, Ted Lupin could easily make himself look however he wanted. For all they knew, he could be some ugly gap-toothed troll beneath the shifting skin.
But Hermione knew better. The thatch of hair above his beaming, now bright yellow, was the only part of him that he changed. Sometimes it was involuntary, but more and more Hermione was finding that he was able to control it on his own.
But the rest of Ted (to everyone else in the world they were Teddy and Caroline, but within their own world they were Ted and Hermione. Just the way we should be, Hermione thought) never changed. The face that was running towards her, the boy jumping onto her bed next to her, was the same boy that she had been best friends with since they were in diapers.
“I got my letter!” Ted said with a huge smile.
“Your letter?” Hermione asked, absently tucking a lock of her blond hair behind her ear.
“My letter!” Ted repeated. “My invitation to Hogwarts!”
“Oh, my God!” said Hermione, bouncing up and down and taking Ted’s hand. “That’s fantastic!”
“I know, it’s great!” said Ted, brandishing the envelope. “I just got it this morning, and I made Gran promise that we’d stop by before we went to Diagon Alley for supplies.”
Hermione chuckled. “So that’s why Mum was calling me downstairs,” she said. “If I had known it was you I would have shut down right away.”
“What were you playing?” Teddy asked, glancing at Hermione’s computer.
“Everquest,” she replied. “It’s not important.”
“Did you get your letter yet?” Ted asked.
Hermione’s heart sunk. For years, she and Ted had played a continuing game of ‘What If?’ Ted was sure that Hermione was one of them. But now that the rubber met the road…
“No,” she said. “Nothing yet.”
“Oh,” said Ted, his smile fading. “Well, I just assumed they sent all the letters out on the same day. Yours might not be here for a few days. They might even deliver it personally, since you’re Muggle-born, and who knows how long that will take?”
“I doubt it,” Hermione said. “I don’t think I’m going to get one. Mum and Dad signed me up for Headington.”
“But… but you’re just a late bloomer!” said Ted. “I bet you plenty of witches and wizards don’t even reveal their abilities until after they’ve already been accepted.”
“Yeah,” said Hermione sadly. “I suppose there’s a small chance…”
“Sure, you have Muggle parents,” Ted insisted. “But Jean’s a witch. That means you have to be one, too, right?”
“It doesn’t work that way,” said Hermione. “I mean, look at Harry. His Mum was a witch, but his aunt’s a Muggle. I think it’s just random.”
“So… so you’re not a witch?”
“I don’t think I am,” said Hermione quietly.
“We’re not going to be going to Hogwarts together?”
“I’m sorry,” Hermione said. She felt her heartstrings tug at the utter disappointment in Ted’s voice. I know how he feels, she thought. The reasonable part of her mind knew that this day was coming, when she would be deemed forever ordinary.
But there was always some small part of her who had always hoped. Always hoped that she had such an even-keeled life that the only reason that she had never shown any magical ability was because she had never had the emotional outburst that accompanied a flare-up. That an owl would land on their windowsill one day with a letter that wasn’t from Hermione Jean or Andromeda Tonks or the Potters, but from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
That she’d be able to spend every day with the boy sitting next to her.
“God, this sucks,” Ted said grumpily, falling back onto Hermione’s bed.
“How do you think I feel?” asked Hermione. “Headington’s a great school, and all. But it’s a boarding school. They have limits on what you can and can’t bring with you. And it’s an all-girls school.”
“What’s wrong with that?” asked Ted. “Boys have cooties, don’t they?”
“No, girls have cooties,” said Hermione, a smile coming despite herself. “Boys just have boy germs.”
“So you’ll be with a bunch of girls,” said Ted. “That’s not that bad.”
“It just means that I won’t have as many people to talk to,” said Hermione.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know if you noticed,” said Hermione, looking around her room. “But I’m kind of a tomboy.”
Ted glanced at her shelf, which was covered with action figures, Lego models, and sci-fi books. Her walls were plastered with posters of Smashing Pumpkins, Pokemon, and LeBron James. “No, you’re not. You’re Hermione. You’re just cool. They’ll figure it out.”
Hermione smiled, and as she looked down at Ted, stretched out on her bed, one hand clutching his letter, the other resting on his stomach, his hair now a dark blue (it always changes with his mood, she thought, realizing that it made him one of the most honest people in the world) the magnitude of this conversation was hitting her for the first time.
I’m barely going to be seeing him anymore.
“Put your arm out,” she said.
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
With a confused glance, Ted did what he was asked, putting his arm away from his body. Hermione lay herself down next to him, took his arm, and wrapped it around her shoulder.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Just wanted to be comfortable,” she said, angry with herself for the tears that were so close. “I’m going to miss you…”
“I’m going to miss you, too,” said Ted. “But I’ll be home for Christmas and Easter and summer every year.”
“I know,” said Hermione. “But we won’t be able to talk on the phone, or talk online. And you won’t be able to send me any owls.”
“We’ll figure something out.”
“Okay…”
“This is weird.”
Hermione, whose previous experience with snuggling was when she was little with her Mum and Dad (except for that one time that baby Hugo had fallen asleep on top of her last Christmas), thought that she had never felt more comfortable in her life. However, she didn’t want to make things awkward…
“Yeah, you’re right,” she said, releasing herself from Ted by pushing herself up. “It is weird.”
“Sorry…” Ted said, maybe realizing that she was enjoying it.
“No, forget it,” Hermione said with a reluctant smile, wiping her eyes. “Let me see your letter.”
“You want to read it?”
“I’m not getting one of my own,” said Hermione. “I at least want to see what one looks like.”
“Okay,” Ted said. Still on his back, he handed the envelope to her. She read the address (Mr. T. Lupin, the first time she had ever heard her Ted referred to as a Mr.), flipped it over to study the broken purple wax seal (an H surrounded by four animals, although she couldn’t make them out because of the break), and opened it.
There were two pieces of paper inside. One was a list of school supplies (“You get your own wand. Ted, that’s awesome!” to which Ted could only shrug) while the other was a letter:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Tiberius Ogden
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock)
Dear Mr. Lupin,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find the enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Jana Allentide
Deputy Headmistress
PS: Arrangements have been made for additional lessons in regards to your special condition. Further details will be explained by your Head of House upon your arrival.
“Special condition?”
“My metamorphing,” Ted explained. “Gran says my Mum had the same thing when she was going to school. The Ministry has some special metamorphmagus that they send to the school whenever someone like me shows up. Teach me how to control it, how to make the most of it, that sort of thing.”
“Explained by your Head of House,” Hermione continued. “You already know what House you’re in?”
“Nah, I figure all four Heads will know about it.”
“I wonder how you get Sorted…”
“Who knows?” Ted said. “No one will tell me. It’s like some secret club. George said that he lost his ear during the Sorting, but Verity smacked him in the back of the head before he got much farther.”
“I think it’s really neat, though, the Sorting,” said Hermione, once again feeling a pang of disappointment, of being left behind. “Any idea what house you’re going to be in?”
“Just so long as it’s not Slytherin,” said Ted. “I’m hoping to be in Gryffindor. That’s the House that Harry and Ginny were in.”
“Yeah, same with Jean and Ron,” said Hermione. “All of Ron and Ginny’s brothers, too, from what I can tell.”
“And Neville,” said Ted. “Who I guess I’m going to have to start calling Professor Longbottom now. That’ll be weird…”
“Sounds like all the boring ones get into Gryffindor,” Hermione said with a smirk. “Do you know what House your Mum and Dad were in?”
Ted closed his eyes. “I don’t know,” he said. “No one ever really talks about them around me. Like they’re afraid my feelings are going to get hurt, or something, if I remember that my folks got themselves killed.”
Hermione nodded, but felt her heart skip a beat. Ted was right. No one ever talked about his parents around him. He never talked about them, either. Hermione thought back, and realized that this was the first time that the two of them had ever mentioned the death of his parents.
“What do you know about them?” Hermione asked, afraid to press on, but wanting to know. Needing to know about her best friend’s past.
“Not a lot,” said Ted. “My Dad was Remus, he was a werewolf. My Mum was Nymphadora, a metamorphmagus. Dad was friends with Harry’s Dad when they were at Hogwarts. That’s how Harry ended up being my godfather. They got married, had me, and went off to die when I was only a few months old.”
The cold edge that had appeared in Ted’s voice, and the ice-blue of his hair, made Hermione almost regret asking the question. But still she pressed on.
“Do you know… Do you know how they died?”
“Does it matter?” Ted said, sitting up, and Hermione flinched at the tone of his voice.
“Well, maybe it was a good reason…” Hermione insisted.
“There was no good reason!” Ted yelled. “They fought when they didn’t need to fight, died when they didn’t have to die, and didn’t give a rat’s ass about me when they did it!”
“Teddy…”
Ted pushed himself off Hermione’s bed and to his feet. “Look, I have to go,” he said shortly, avoiding Hermione’s eyes. “Gran’s waiting for me.”
“Ted, I’m sorry,” said Hermione, standing up with him. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“No, it’s okay,” he said, and Hermione could hear through the ice that he meant what he said. “It’s not your fault. Look, I’ll talk to you later.”
“Alright,” said Hermione, and surprised herself for the next week by giving Ted a quick kiss on the cheek. “Don’t be mad, okay?”
Ted seemed just as surprised as she was. “I’ll try not to…” he said, rubbing his cheek absently.
Before Hermione could say anything else, Ted was out the door and down the stairs, leaving her alone with her computer and her posters.
The Financial Diviner / Previous Chapters / Bedtime Story