Chapter 2 : Chapter 2 - Shock
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Five years later.
“Ron, stop that, you can’t possibly feed a baby like that!” Hermione screamed at Ron. Ron was poking around with a spoon. A small baby was watching from its hight chair, an annoyed look on its face.
“Who said I was trying to feed her?” He tried to give a sheepish grin, but failed miserably.
“You’re as bad as Harry… was… Oh, I’m sorry.” Hermione said, but reluctantly pulled back, she regretted what she said. Ron frowned at her, standing up.
“You know you should never talk about Harry in this house hold.” Ron ran out to the front of the house a small tear running down his face.
Hermione followed in a huff. Ron was never going to learn.
“Ron, you will have to except it someday. Harry is dead and there is nothing you or me, or anyone can do about it! He is gone.” Hermione said glancing at Ron’s sad eyes. It was not fair. Their friend should be her with them, enjoying the rest of his life. Instead his had been taken but Voldemort and his friends had been very upset. Ron would not accept what had happened, even if it was almost five years later.
“Am I?” Hermione suddenly realised that she had left the door open, she felt a gust of wind blow through the door. A tall figure was standing there, almost keeling over. His voice was very husky, as if he had not been talking to people for a while.
“Harry?!” Ron’s eyes widened in shock. But the man did not see this. The figure, Harry, fainted on the door step from exhaustion.
Hermione had almost fainted in shock. For some reason Ron felt angry. His friend had been missing, presumably dead, No was dead, for Lupin had seen the death curse being thrown at him, for five years and suddenly decided to turn up at their door step. But a warm, comfortable feeling came over him, like that little space of nothingness in his soul had suddenly been filled.
Was this really Harry Potter, the same Harry Potter who had died, the one they had a funeral for?
Ron reluctantly kneeled down next to the cloaked figures body. He pulled the boy’s, no, man’s cloak off from around his face. He was still the handsome boy he had always been, he seemed to have ditched his glasses, but his scar was still there, as noticeable as it had ever been.
But for some reason, he did not look completely the same. His face had a look of distress upon it and his lips were all cracked and white. This was the twenty-two year old Harry Potter. Ron grabbed his arm, he was going to lift him up off the ground. But suddenly Harry awoke, grabbing Ron’s cloak. Ron fell backwards onto his behind in shock.
“Get Dumbledore!”, was all he said, before he closed his eyes again.
Hermione helped Ron carry Harry into their living room. They lay him down on the couch and stood back, glaring at Harry, not wanting to take their eyes off Harry. Finally Ron broke the silence.
“I will go get Dumbledore. You go warn the rest of the Order. I shall be back in two minutes, max.” Ron told her. Hermione nodded and grabbed her child form the high chair.
She smiled down at her baby. Her baby’s name was Estel. She had dark hair and bright green like eyes. She reminded Hermione of Harry a small bit, but over the past month, her hair had started to change to a red colour, Hermione knew she would probably look like Ginny.
Hermione apparated out of the house, to Grimauld Place, their very old, but very reliable, Order Headquarters.
Ron grabbed a pinch of floo powder from the top of the mantel piece and threw it into the fire. He stepped in, throwing some more over his head. “Hogwarts; Headmasters office” Ron shouted, feeling a green swirl of ooziness come over him.
“Ah, Ron. Have you come for another chat?” Ron sometime wondered what kept Dumbledore alive sometimes, but all in all, it was good for him not to give up on them.
“Not today Professor…”
“Please call me Albus, I am hardly your Headmaster anymore. Now please tell me, why are you here?”
“Oh.. Okay A-Albus.” But he was cut off by a sheik from Dumbledore’s phoenix, Fawkes.
“Well, you see… Harry is alive!” He finally got the words out of his mouth. For the first time in his life, he had finally seen Dumbledore dumb struck.
“But how can that be. I myself witnessed his death, and of today, Five years ago.”
“You’d better come with me.” The two flooed back to the House, where Harry was still lying on the couch, still as ice.
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