The Burning Pen

The Ring

by Ruth Solomon

The story content is adult in nature and can contain graphic sex and violence.  Those under the age of 18 are asked to leave this site immediately.  You are not welcome here.  The author is not responsible for those under-aged who view these works.

CHAPTER 7

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
*******************************


Chapter 7 ~ Hermione Arrives…Somewhere

Hermione gasped as she came to a stop. Raucous took to the air the minute he felt them hit solid ground. The raven had never traveled by port key and was completely thrown. The only flying he liked was the self-propelled type. He flew in great circles above Hermione’s head, attempting to get his bearings again.

Hermione was aware of gulls crying and the crash of surf. The briny scent of the ocean surrounded her. She looked around. She stood a few meters from a white sand covered beach, standing in some tall, coarse grasses beyond rows of sand dunes. The surf crashed rhythmically on the shore, rolling and white-crested. She looked out across the water and saw a number of large, wicked rocks that stretched the entire expanse. There were people too. Fishermen it seemed. Gulls circled them as they appeared to fold a huge net. The weather was temperate, not too hot and not too cold. A few thin clouds drifted lazily through the azure sky. A breeze was coming off the ocean, and rifled the grasses.

Hermione turned and gasped. Behind her stood a huge mountain that rose up as high as the clouds. She could make out a large village at its base, made up of small simple houses and some fields. There seemed to be shops as well. She could make out small people walking about. She looked up at the huge mountain. It seemed strange, to have such level land and then the mountain jutting out of it. It kind of looked as if it had been dropped there from someplace else. The witch could make out varying densities of trees and brush speckling its slope. She looked back at the shore and saw Raucous sifting through the sand, hopping about. He picked something up, tilted his head to the sky and gulped it down. Merlin only knew what the bird was eating. But he looked delighted as he scratched in the sand.

“Hey, where’d you come from?” piped a young voice, “I’ve never seen you before.”

Hermione turned to see a young boy of maybe seven, peering up at her, a scowl on his face. He had brown hair and brown eyes and wore a coarse gray tunic shirt and coarse brown trousers. His mouth was pursed as he looked Hermione over.

“No, you wouldn’t have seen me before. I’m a visitor. My name is Hermione,” the witch said, smiling down at her.

“Hermione?” the boy repeated, “That’s a weird sounding name.” He looked at her clothes. “Where’d you get your clothes? They are weird too.”

Hermione looked down at herself and back at the precocious little boy.

“These are the kind of clothes we wear where I come from,” she replied, “Can you tell me where I am?”

The boy looked up at her with narrowed eyes as if that was the silliest question in the world.

“Where are you? Why you’re here of course,” he answered her. Then Raucous returned, obviously having had his fill of whatever he was eating on the beach and landed neatly on Hermione’s shoulder, cocking his head at the little boy with interest.

The boy’s eyes went wide as he pointed at the raven.

“What kind of bird is that?” he asked staring at Raucous with such admiration, the bird began to preen himself, turning so the sun caught his glossy black feathers just right.

“He is a raven. His name is Raucous. He’s my familiar,” Hermione said.

“He’s pretty,” the boy replied. Raucous let out a caw of approval at the little boy’s acuteness. “I’ll trade you for him.”

Raucous froze.

“Trade me for him?” Hermione repeated.

“Yes. I’ll give you Runty for him. Runty’s my pig. He’s small now but he’ll get bigger. Then you can eat him,” the boy said, his brown eyes on Raucous.

Hermione gave a little shudder.

“As delicious as your pig sounds, I’m afraid I can’t trade Raucous. He kind of belongs to himself. He just stays with me,” Hermione said, looking at the bird on her shoulder.

Raucous cawed stiffly in agreement, casting a beady eye on the boy and clipping his beak at him. Trade him for a pig? How dare he suggest it?

The little boy looked crestfallen for a moment, but recovered nicely.

“Where are you going?” the boy asked, looking at her backpack.

“I’m delivering something for a friend,” Hermione replied, “I’m going to his ancestral home.”

The boy looked confused.

“The place where his family comes from,” Hermione explained, “I think his home might be here”

“What is his name?” the boy asked.

“His name was Severus Snape,” Hermione replied.

Suddenly the little boy went pale, and his eyes widened in fright. He began to back away from Hermione as if she had turned into some kind of monster.

“Wait!” Hermione said, walking forward and extending her hand as if to catch his arm.

The little boy bolted toward the village, his little legs flying. Then suddenly mid-stride, he disapparated. Hermione was shocked as the residual thunder sounded. A seven-year-old boy who could apparate? It was known to happen to children accidentally in England, but usually they had to be much older in order to do it properly. That’s why you had to wait until you were seventeen to get a license. She looked around. Where was this place? And why had the boy run when she said the Professor’s name? Suddenly, this journey was taking on darker connotations. Children tended to reflect the fears of their parents. This was not good.

Hermione looked at Raucous, who was staring at the place the boy disappeared from with his beak open, as if he too were amazed.

“I have the feeling the family name of Snape is not too popular around here, Raucous,” she said. The raven cawed in agreement. Hermione looked toward the village.

“Well, I guess we’d better go to the village and at least find out where we are,” she said, beginning to walk through the tall grass in the direction of the houses. Raucous took to the air again, flying before her.

**********************************

The little boy ran gasping into the inn. He slid to a stop in front of a rather stout woman, with brown hair and brown eyes just like his. She was wiping off tables. She stopped and looked at the boy, who was panting.

“Peter! What have I told you about running in the inn?” she scolded.

“Mama, I’m sorry but there’s a lady on the beach I’ve never seen before, with a black bird, who says she is here for the Snapes. Her name is Hermione and she said she is delivering something,” he said in the quick voice children use when they are trying to get a comment past their parents. The woman straightened and her eyes narrowed.

“The Snapes? What did she look like?” Petra asked the boy.

“Her hair is like a light brown, and her eyes are kind of goldy,” Peter said.

“Did she do magic?” his mother asked.

“I think so, mama. She just was there and the beach was empty before,” Peter replied. “I didn’t see where she came from, and she didn’t make the noise either.”

Petra put her hands on her hips for a moment. No noise meant the stranger hadn’t apparated to their island. So some other magic was at work. Petra walked to the inn door and peered out down the main road toward the beach. She couldn’t see anyone approaching.

“Well, more than likely she’ll be stopping through here, Peter. We’ll get to the bottom of this, don’t you worry,” she said, ruffling the frightened boy’s hair reassuringly.

“But why would she want to go there? Nobody goes there,” Peter said, holding his mother’s dress between his small fingers for comfort.

“I don’t know, Peter. Perhaps she doesn’t know that,” Petra said, “She’s a stranger. She wouldn’t know.”

Peter turned his face up to his mother, his eyes shining.

“She seems nice, mama. We’ll tell her, won’t we? Tell her not to go…tell her there are things on the mountain? Bad people and things,” he said to his mother. Peter had a kind heart, like most children do who are dearly loved.

Petra wasn’t sure she wanted to get involved with a stranger. Especially one that had business with the Snapes. It could be dangerous to interfere. She looked down at her son.

“We’ll have to wait and see, dearest,” she said, pressing his head to her hip comfortingly. Then she turned and walked back into the inn. Freshly washed glasses sat on the counter of the bar. Petra wriggled her fingers at them and they neatly flew to their proper places. Then she noticed a stray glass on a far table.

“Clean that glass for me, Peter,” she said to her son pointed to the table.

“Yes, mama,” the boy said turning his eyes to the distant glass.

Peter wriggled his fingers in the direction of the table. The glass floated over to the bar and set itself in the soapy water. A brush scrubbed it out, then the spigot came on and rinsed it. A towel rose from under the counter, dried it and the glass floated to its proper place on the shelf.

“How’s that, mama?” Peter asked, his little chest poked out at having done so many things with so few wriggles.

Petra patted his head. “Very good. Very good, Peter. Come now and have something to eat,” she said, walking back to the kitchen. Peter followed her, his mind on the pretty stranger he met at the beach. He hoped she wouldn’t go up the mountain.

She might not come back.

******************************

A/N: Ah, so Hermione has arrived…someplace. And the Snapes live on a mountain overlooking a village. Now why doesn’t that surprise me? Things on the mountain? What kind of things? Bad people? Man. I don’t know about this, Hermione. And children who apparate and do wandless magic? Very interesting. Kind of explains Snape’s abilities. Well, please review.

PLEASE REVIEW "THE RING" >>> NEXT CHAPTER

Return to Index Page

Number of Visits: