Harry Potter and the Gilded Portrait - Part Two
Standard Disclaimers Apply
Chapter Twenty-Three: Discoveries
Hermione sat on her lounger, the back rest in the upright position so she could prop her book on her knees and read while she sunned. Harry had opted to lay a towel on the sand beside her. It was a ritual they had developed since the second day on the island.
Harry had told her he loved feeling the sand beneath him, warm and soft. It was something completely new to him and he reveled in all the new sensations he was experiencing.
Even at the urging, begging and pleading from Harry, Hermione had opted not to wear her new swim suit Harry had bought her since that first time. She still couldn't quite get over the reaction and unwanted attention it had caused so she opted for one of her more conservative one-piece suits. It was white with the British flag printed on it.
Harry knew it made no difference what kind of swimsuit she wore. She was gorgeous and would attract attention no matter what she put on.
As Harry lay back on his towel beside her propped on his elbows watching people swim and others riding wind surf boards skittering across the calm water of the shallow bay, he glanced sideways at her.
She had laid her book aside and stretched her lithe, tanned body along the length of the lounger with one leg drawn up and arms tossed carelessly over the back of the chair.
He couldn't help but think how incredibly beautiful and sexy she looked. He couldn't help but suddenly wish the sun was gone and they were back in their suite again. He closed his eyes remembering what her body felt like pressed against his. He recalled the heat and sweat and the intense smell of her when she had her powerful orgasms.
Hermione noticed Harry staring off into space. She knew he was probably trying to process and come to terms with what was happening between them. Things had changed dramatically for both of them over the past week but she sat there in the warm sun looking at Harry so relaxed and…
And what…Happy? Content?
He turned and smiled at her as if he could feel her eyes on him even through her dark sunglasses. It was a smile that told her so much but seemed to be touched with a hint of something she couldn't quite recognize.
Was it fear?
"Sixpence for your thoughts Harry," Hermione asked smiling warmly at him. She reached out and let her fingers play in his constantly unsettled hair. Even the most industrial strength Muggle hair care products couldn't make his hair behave.
It was almost embarrassing for him to get caught thinking about her naked body so he wanted to drag his mind away from that as quickly as possible.
"I was just thinking about what was going on back home," he lied.
Hermione face seemed to darken slightly when he said it.
Harry mentally kicked himself. He suddenly realized it would have been much better if he had told the truth. She had not thought about or talked about her parents in days and she had been much more relaxed as a result. Now he had practically dragged her right back into those depressing thoughts. He frantically groped for a way to distract her.
"I was just wondering if all the barmy Golden Trio nonsense has died down yet."
"I wouldn't worry about it Harry. You're just going to have to accept you are now an even more famous wizard and learn to live with it. I'm sure Ron's little book is doing as much as anything to fan the flames."
Harry said nothing. As far as he knew Hermione had not even looked at Ron's book yet and had no intention of doing so. He wasn't about to tell her he had read some of it and had to admit Ron was telling the truth about nothing but the facts. He also had to admit the old hag Skeeter did a pretty good job of describing things.
"I really didn't think his memoirs would be all that popular but I guess I was wrong," Harry said.
"I'm not sure how much actual memoir there is amongst all the speculation, innuendo, half-truths and rubbish." Hermione quipped.
"You think so?" Harry sighed, "You're probably right. I can see her Quick-Quotes quill dancing feverishly across the parchment embellishing every word. Do you think you'll ever read it?"
Hermione just shrugged her shoulder.
"I can't believe he actually had the stones to do something like that…" Hermione began to say but then caught herself, "never mind…Actually, I can."
Harry couldn't help but laugh, thankful his devious little distraction worked.
Hermione rolled over on her side to face him with a sudden thought.
"You know Harry," she said with a wide smile, "You should write your own book. I mean really, think about it. If the Wizard world is clamoring to know what really happened who better to hear it from then the person who was right in the middle of it all. There would be no question about the facts, that's for certain!"
"You were in the middle of it just as I was Hermione," Harry blanched at the thought, "and besides, I'm no writer. That's more your department."
"Nonsense Harry," Hermione's eyebrows pinched together. She didn't like it when he put himself down like that. "You're very intelligent. You just need to have a little faith in your own abilities. Besides," she grinned her heart-stopping little crooked smile, "I could be your editor. We could make Ronald Bilius Weasley and his ghost writer look like a couple of third-rate Society column hacks."
Harry laughed, "I don't know Hermione. I'd have to sit down and try to remember everything we've been through and that's plenty yah? I'm not sure if I would even want to." He paused for a moment then added, "I'd probably need a pensive for that. I wonder if McGonagall would let me use Dumbledore's old one. Can you buy those things?"
As Harry said those last words the gears and cogs inside Hermione's brain began whirring and spinning until they all finally meshed into place with an inaudible clank! The memories of the night they removed her parent's identities and installed the alternate ones filled her thoughts. She sat bolt upright in her lounger yanking off her sunglasses.
"What did you say Harry!" She whispered.
He glanced up at her. Her face was frozen with eyes wide. Her expression was that of utter surprise and shock. He started to become a bit alarmed.
"Wha…what do you mean…about what?" Harry asked.
In the next second she was on her feet, pacing the sand in front of their spot on the beach, fingers on her bottom lip mumbling to herself.
Harry lurched to his feet as well, "What is it Hermione?"
She flung her hands at him as if she was trying to shoo him away. She kept pacing, looking at the sand lost in the depths of her brilliant mind. Then suddenly she stopped. She turned abruptly and looked at Harry, eyes wide again.
"THAT'S IT!" She yelled.
It made Harry jump. The few people within ear shot all looked up at them.
"What Hermione, for Merlin's sake!" Harry asked. He was beginning to get a bit panicky now.
"Don't you see Harry? That's the answer. It has to be!"
"Erm…" Harry didn't see.
"The pensive…the pensive," she was rowing her arms now, trying to get the thoughts to come out of her head, "My parents memories were placed into Dumbledore's pensive before Professor McGonagall put them into the vials! I'll be willing to bet it has something to do with the fact they are pure Muggle with no magic ability at all! That must be the answer! Storing my parent's memories in a magical device did…did something to them - but what?"
She was lost in though again, staring out across the bay not really seeing anything.
Harry stood watching her lost in his own thoughts about the pensive. He remembered watching Dumbledore pull memories from his temple with his wand and drop them into the magical bowl. The bright blue vaporous stream swirled on the misty surface for a moment then blended in with the rest of the murky substance that filled the device.
"You think your parent's memories got damaged somehow while they were in the Pensive?" Harry asked not really understanding how that could happen but not really understanding how the pensive actually worked either. "Who had access to it while the memories were in there?"
Hermione forced herself to focus on his words.
"No-one," she replied, "I was there when the memories were extracted. McGonagall placed them into the pensive one at a time. She extracted each one only minutes after they were put there. She said she didn't want to take any chances while transferring the memories from mind to vial - just in case…"
"Just in case of what?" Harry asked.
Hermione's head snapped toward him.
"That's a bloody good question?" Hermione replied. Her face became set with a look of utter concentration and determination. She continued pacing.
"Normally when one stores a memory in the pensive it's only a small portion or single strand of that person's thoughts. With my parents…"
"It was their whole identity," Harry finished the thought for her, "It was everything that made them who they are, right?"
That statement made Hermione come to a dead stop again. She stiffened for a moment then bolted to her lounger and started gathering up her things quickly.
"I need to send McGonagall an owl at once Harry!" She said almost breathlessly, "I think I have an idea of what happened to my parent's memories."
"Hermione," Harry interjected as he bent to snatch his towel off the sand and slip into his sandals, "Didn't you tell me this place was mostly Muggle. Where are we going to find an owl?"
Hermione was half way back to the hotel by the time Harry looked up. Even in the face of this sudden possible breakthrough he couldn't help but smirk. Even dressed down in what Hermione had considered a conservative one-piece swim suit almost every bloke on the beach turned to watch her incredibly slender body and delectable bum swish and twitch its way back across the sand.
Back in their suite, Hermione got out a quill, ink and parchment and set them on the computer desk in the sitting room. They had determined it would be necessary to summon a postal owl from the Ministry in order to send her message.
She told Harry to find a secluded location and quickly instructed him on how to send a request charm to summon an owl.
"Have you ever done this before Hermione?" Harry asked.
"No - not really," she admitted.
So neither knew if it would work or how long it would take for a postal owl to arrive.
"Why not just send your patronus?" Harry inquired.
"Too much information to convey through a patronus Harry," she replied, "and I think the distance might be a bit too great anyway."
Without any further delay Harry found a spot in some trees across the narrow road that ran in front of the resort and sent the summoning charm.
Back in the suite Hermione feverishly poured over the letter to the Headmistress, her hand flying across the parchment. When she finally looked up the sun was settling into its warm bath in the ocean on the western horizon. She had written seventeen pages.
While she was attempting to fold her letter and stuff it into a very uncooperative envelope Harry spotted three small specks appear out of the deep orange, bright crimson and gold of the setting sun.
As the three owls came closer Harry watched them swoop in low over the bay, wings spread wide gliding like fixed-winged aircraft pointed straight at the hotel in a "V" formation. He could see a few people walking down on the beach looking up…some pointing at the odd sight.
"Bugger Hermione," Harry said as he backed into the wide open French doors to their bed chamber, "Three of them coming in fast. They didn't even wait till it was dark!"
"What did you say in your request Harry?" Hermione asked.
"I just said we needed an owl A.S.A.P. That's all, I swear!"
She realized the how's and why's were really not all that important at the moment as she managed to smash the last pages into the over-stuffed envelope. She had to put three wax seals on it to keep it closed but was relatively satisfied with her work.
When the three owls reached the balcony they pulled up short and landed lightly on the railing that surrounded the outer edge of the overlook. The owl in the center was a large barn owl. The other two were much smaller in size. They looked exhausted.
Harry moved to the bathroom and filled three glasses with water. He then carried them and set them on the floor of the balcony so the owls could get a drink. All three hopped off the railing and settled in front of the water drinking gratefully.
"We don't have any t-r-e-a-t-s for them do we?" Harry spelled out asking Hermione.
The big barn owl glanced up at Harry with a doleful look.
Well…apparently postal owls can spell! Who'da thought?
"Wait!" Hermione said holding up her hand.
She made her way over to the small table she and Harry had eaten room service on a few times. There was a small basket that contained many different types of crackers and biscuits she had decided to keep in case she got the munchies. She fished around in the basket until she produced several packages of Melba toast. They were rather dark, crunchy biscuits that looked like little slices of bread. Hermione didn't really care for them but she had to admit they felt and smelled much more like actual owl treats than any of the others.
She opened one package, broke the two little slices into smaller pieces and put them into a crystal candy dish she swiped from a small table at the entry door filled with small round pieces of multi-colored glass.
When she sat the crumpled biscuits down in front of the owls the big one turned its huge eyes up to her as if to ask, `What are we supposed to do with this mess?'
He hopped forward and sniffed the dish. The big owl snatched a piece of the toast and crunched it in his beak. The two smaller owls watched as the big one chewed and swallowed. He just stood there for a moment as if trying to decide if he liked the stuff or not.
The next moment had the big barn owl pecking furiously at the candy dish while trying to keep the other two from getting any of the toast.
Hermione glared at the big barn owl, "Well that's not very sporting of you now is it…big bully!"
Harry gave Hermione an exasperated look then moved to provide the smaller owls with their own portions.
"I guess they really like that stuff," Hermione chuckled incredulously as she watched all three devour the treats.
"I've never even heard of Melba toast!" Harry said, "What is it made from anyway?"
Hermione just shrugged her shoulders. That was the last thing on her mind.
When they had eaten half their supply of the Melba toast and drank a majority of the water Hermione was becoming impatient.
"All right, I think you've had quite enough," Hermione finally said in a huff. While Harry removed the cups and dishes Hermione tied her tome-sized letter to the big barn owls leg but after she was finished all three owls just stood there unmoving looking at her with their huge unblinking eyes.
Harry came up behind her to look at the owls over her shoulder.
"Why are you just standing there you silly things?" Hermione growled, "Off with you!"
Harry looked at all the empty biscuit wrappers lying on the table next to the basket. He got an idea.
"Hermione do you have a small pouch or some type of draw-string bag?"
"What?" She asked confused, "Why?"
"I have an idea," Harry replied.
They couldn't find a small bag like Harry had asked for so he took a rather large handkerchief and transfigured it, crushed up the remainder of the little pieces of Melba toast in it and attached it to one of the smaller owl's legs.
When he was finished they stood back. The owls hopped up onto the railing and took off into the night sky without a hoot or a backward glance.
Hermione just stared after them with a look of bemused confusion on her face.
"So enlighten me `O' Cleverest Witch of Her Age?' What took you seventeen pages to tell McGonagall?" Harry asked as he drew her into his arms and kissed her gently on her warm, soft lips.
Oh…two can play this little game Potter!
With that thought Hermione pulled him to her sliding her arms tightly around his body intensifying the kiss. She forced his lips apart with her insistent tongue and hers swirled together with his in what quickly turned into an intensely heated exchange.
When Hermione's mouth left his Harry's brain would have normally been fried beyond rational thought but he was slowly becoming wise to her tactics. Her kisses still left him tingling all over though but he was not to be denied.
"Why Miss Granger," Harry smile wryly, "Are you trying to distract me?"
"Parish the thought Mr. Potter," she chuckled.
Hermione couldn't help but be completely charmed and disarmed by that. The wide-eyed Boy Who Lived from the Hogwarts Express was gone completely now.
For now, though, she gently pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind.
"I have a theory Harry," Hermione began as she towed him out onto the balcony. They both settled into the cushioned chairs and she began to tell him what she had concluded as a result of their conversation on the beach earlier.
"This is probably going to sound insane and I have absolutely no evidence to back up this theory but I think my parent's memories were somehow damaged or…altered while in the pensive."
"How?" Harry asked.
"Well," Hermione responded, "That's the question isn't it? What strikes us as so odd is that they know who they are. My mum and dad know they are Edward and Daphne and they know who I am for the most part but there are holes or gaps in their memories that seem completely random in nature. It's as if their memories became - fragmented or something. That's what has made this all so infuriating because there's no logical reason for it. Even using the pensive theory doesn't explain how it happened."
"So do you think if you put their memories back into the pensive they would repair themselves?" Harry asked.
Hermione sat lost in thought for a moment.
"That or simply make them even worse," Hermione replied glumly, "I'm not sure if I'm ready to take that kind of chance, at least not without a bit more concrete evidence."
"You know," Harry asked, "I've never even thought much about it before but how does a pensive work? I've seen Dumbledore use it of course but have never even begun to understand it."
"Well you've had more exposure to the pensive than I have Harry and again I only have my own theories and what I've read about them to go on."
"In order to understand how the pensive works is to have a specific knowledge of that magical theory and a thorough understanding of how the human mind works, neither of which I profess to be an expert in, however if I had to take an educated guess it would be that the innate physical properties of human thought are nothing more than the controlled firing of synapses of the brain. Those are made up of a combination of the firing of small electrical pulses and some chemical reactions thus producing a stimulation of a particular region of the brain and in turn stimulating the central nervous system to produce what we perceive as a conscious, or in some cases, unconscious thought. You following me so far?"
Harry gave her a look that suggested she had suddenly begun speaking in a foreign language. She chuckled but pressed on deciding she would probably only serve to confuse him even more if she tried to clarify.
"It obvious by using a bit of magic a memory, or conscious thought can be extracted from our brain. Just exactly what that thought consists of or is made from is a complete mystery to me and might just be the missing key to the discovery of what happened to my parent's memories. It's almost as if their memories began to brake down, possibly as a result of a chemical reaction to what ever resides in the pensive that makes it a container of conscious thought. Again, I'm not sure. These are only guesses."
"One of the things I suggested to McGonagall in my letter was to take a single memory from one of my parents and place it back into the pensive. I'm hoping if any of the fragmented pieces still exist within the device they will be able to identify its memory stream somehow and we can extract them with some type of spell or I'm hoping like will attract like in this case."
"So you're hoping that memory will call to the pieces left behind?" Harry asked not even trying to understand the rest of what she had said.
"Exactly," Hermione grimaced, "It's a long shot but it's all we've got at present."
"Have faith Hermione," Harry smiled taking her hand, "You might just get lucky."
Hermione smiled sadly, "I could do with a spot of luck." Her expression changed from that to slight disappointment.
"Harry," she whispered, "I really hate to ask this of you but I was wondering if you would be terribly upset if we were to cut our holiday short. I realize this is something we both needed but in light of this new possibility…"
Harry stood so abruptly it made Hermione set back a bit.
"Don't be daft! I understand completely," Harry reached for her hand, "We're not packed yet?"
With a huge smile Hermione threw herself into his arms and kissed him so thoroughly it left him dizzy. The look she gave him when they separated made his heart pinch. He could see it in her blazing eyes even before she said the words…
"I am completely, hopelessly and utterly in love with you Harry Potter!"
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