Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

***

A figure passed by Hermione, and its appearance disturbed her so much that she grabbed the front of its robes without thinking. The gray face of Remus Lupin turned to stare at her, politely curious, and a gentle smile broke over his features.

"I know your face."

Hermione shook with emotion, still overwhelmed. Remus affectionately gripped her shoulder.

"And you look much older than how I remember you."

"I am older, Remus."

A shadow passed across Remus' face as his hand cupped against her cheek. It was cool and dry, like Severus'. A frown knitted on Remus' brow, and he removed his hand from her face then grasped her hands in his, pressing them in between his own. He looked to Severus.

"She shouldn't be here."

"She wasn't welcome in the fields of Asphodel."

Hermione looked at them nervously. Remus wouldn't let go of her hands.

"You're very warm, Hermione. You are unmistakably alive. You shouldn't be here."

Severus' mouth twitched into a peculiar, little smile. He cocked his head, regarding her.

"Now how did you manage a feat like that?"

Hermione licked her lips nervously. She felt like a schoolgirl again, squirming under a professor's gaze, answering for some mischief she had orchestrated. The only difference was Snape seemed amused and without malice.

"The Tartarus Draught."

Remus and Severus looked at each other, obviously impressed.

"That's quite admirable, but then, you always did excel in my classroom."

Hermione looked up. That glimmer of praise was the one thing she had never thought she'd hear from him.

"I did?"

"Of course. Although, I suppose I never would have said so."

Remus then noticed the wand in Severus' hand. It seemed to be the only thing that glowed as it was its own source of light down in the Elysian Fields. He nodded curtly at it.

"Put it away, Severus. Hermione's presence will cause enough of a stir."

Severus seemed to see the wisdom in that, as he stowed the wand away in his robes, hiding its light. Hermione noticed that Remus and Severus both wore similar robes of a lightweight, black material. Voluminous, it moved like smoke and seemed different from hers, which looked heavy and cumbersome in comparison.

"Come, Hermione, you will have to see the others."

Severus took her hand in his (it had happened twice in a lifetime), and Remus kept a protective hand on her shoulder. As they walked Hermione saw them approaching a large group of people, and she tensed.

Severus murmured under his breath, "No one will harm you here, don't worry."

"Hermione?"

A dark, shaggy figure bound forward and squeezed the life out of her, then instantly twirled her round and round. Hermione wheezed for breath, but the figure's cheer was infectious, and she found herself grinning.

"Let her down, Sirius, she'll break easily."

"Never! Not this one."

He let her down, and Hermione giggled as she regained her footing. Sirius looked very handsome, and the grin on his face wolfish and playful.

"Look at you, you're all grown up. I still remember you as a little girl. Here, tell me what's happened ... What's been going on?"

Hermione laughed, overwhelmed. "I don't know where to start."

"The war? What happened...did you see what happened to Voldemort? And what about Harry? What's happening now, did any Death Eaters survive? Bellatrix Black? Did someone finally do the bitch in?"

There was a hunger in Sirius' voice and desperation in his eyes. His curiosity surpassed a degree that was comfortable, and Hermione fought the urge to take a step back. Why was Sirius so keen to know? Why didn't he have that same indifference and amnesia as Remus and Severus?

Severus' hand landed on her shoulder protectively.

"Contain yourself, Sirius. Such ugly questions you ask."

Sirius' enthusiastic inquiries had carried over the Elysian Fields, drawing a crowd. There were some faces Hermione vaguely recognized, witches and wizards in the periphery of her life. She felt a little frightened, but they were not as menacing as the Asphodel shades had been.

"Who is she, Severus?"

It was a beautiful, young woman who asked. Her eyes were a subdued green, her hair a dull red, but her beauty still undeniable. She would have looked positively vibrant in life, and despite having the same gray light that permeated the others, she still stood out among them; a smudgy red pastel smear against charcoal.

"You're Lily."

She cocked her head, her smile politely curious but friendly.

"How do you know that?"

"You're Harry's mum."

Lily Potter's face darkened, and without a word, she left. Hermione was startled into silence, and Sirius looked at the situation excitedly. She suddenly found him and his eagerness hateful. Looking up towards Severus, she asked, "What did I say?"

"I'm not sure; worry about it later."

Remus gently nudged her to start walking and guided her through the fields. The crowd of figures followed. Hermione saw flashes of people she knew, and each time, she failed to call out their name in time. Tonks. Fred. The push of the crowd was persistent, and Hermione found she had no choice but to obey.

"Where are we going, Remus?"

"We're taking you to see the wise man. He'll appease the rest if he approves of you being here. And he may be able to answer any questions you have."

"Who's the wise man? Dumbledore?"

"No."

The flat answer was the only response Remus offered. When Hermione looked up at Severus for clarification, he only glanced back with the ghost of a smirk around his lips.

"What's everyone doing now, Hermione? Was there chaos with the Ministry...who's Minister now? Lucius and Cissy wouldn't tell me anything when they first got here. Go on, tell me what's happened."

Severus grabbed the front of Sirius' robes and neatly shoved him to the edge of the crowd.

Hermione's brow knit in confusion. "Lucius? You mean Malfoy ..."

She stopped walking despite the push of the flowing crowd around her. They stopped and settled around her as well when they realized she wasn't going to budge. They had been progressing through the gray fields towards a flat, gray rock. There were two people sitting on the rock, their golden hair catching the available dim light. Their foreheads rested against each other as they breathed softly.

Hermione hadn't known Draco's parents had passed away.

"They don't speak to anyone. No one knows if they even speak to each other," a young girl with black hair offered in a whispery voice. She disappeared back into the small crowd before Hermione could ask her to elaborate.

The crowd began to move again, and Hermione allowed them to push her along the path. The gray river cut through the land, and they all walked along its twisting bank. Up ahead was a tree, and under the tree a stump. An older man was sitting on it with his back turned to the crowd. A hush fell over the scene, and Hermione took a hesitant step forward. The tree creaked from an invisible wind, and the man turned his head to look at her. It took Hermione forever and a day to recognize him.

"Moody?"

***

He beckoned her with the motion of one hand and gestured for her to sit on the ground beside him. As she lowered herself to sit, she bumped into a second stump that had just materialized.

Alastor Moody looked at her with two clear eyes. The scars on his face were gone; the only deep grooves marring his face were from the passage of time. The difference in his appearance was so startling that half of Hermione didn't believe she was sitting with the true Mad-Eye Moody. Where was his Mad Eye? He looked homely and plain, like someone's benign grandfather.

Moody grunted and gripped her chin, turning it this way and that, inspecting her. A part of her was delighted...constant vigilance! The other part was protesting loudly that he was pinching her face too roughly.

"You're a very long way from home."

"I had to come."

"Had to," Moody said with a searching look.

Hermione squirmed, even with two normal eyes she felt he could still see right through her.

"Y-your scars are gone."

Moody nodded, contemplating something and sucking his teeth.

"Hmm ... don't talk about the war down here, gel. They don't want to hear it. Trust me on that."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll find out for yourself, soon enough. It's just best not to talk about the living world down here. They'll forget it soon after, anyway."

"Sirius..."

Moody nodded, sucking his teeth. Hermione thought he looked similar to the tree he was sitting beside.

"Yes ... Sirius remembers. Or, at least, wants to. Badly. Sirius fell through the veil when he died. He was alive for a split second as he fell through the archway, and it had already opened to the Underworld. That makes him different. A part of him still wants to be in the living world. Try not to indulge him. It doesn't do any good."

They lapsed into silence. Hermione had so much she wanted to ask him, but was afraid to. The moment just didn't seem right. Did Moody remember? How did he remember...how did he know all this?

She supposed that he just did.

She blinked, realizing it was true. As simple as that, like the myths and folk tales she had read about concerning the land of the dead. Down here, some things just were.

"You brought something down here."

Hermione froze. He looked at her suspiciously.

"Don't advertise it, gel, whatever you do. You should never have brought it down here. That'll cause some trouble."

"It's nothing, it..."

Moody raised a hand to silence her. She looked into her lap feeling guilty. Could he know she was also trying to bring Severus back to the living world with her?

"We won't talk about it anymore. Don't talk about what you brought here."

"He likes it. It hasn't done any harm."

She thought she sounded a little petulant. Moody just waved his hand dismissively again.

"He would."

She didn't know what that meant, but Moody offered no further explanation. He only sucked his teeth again.

"You came here for something."

Hermione looked up, hoping to betray nothing. Moody's eyebrows rose.

"For someone?"

Hermione didn't know what to say; she wasn't sure of herself anymore. She had come for Severus, and to harness the link between life and death. These things seemed impossible now, given that so much had surprised her, had deviated from her expectations, and that she could not understand. She nodded for the sake of a response.

"Be sure you now what it is you're here for; you could find yourself with something completely different..."

Hermione snorted inwardly. You can say that again.

"And what will you do then?"

Moody didn't wait for her to answer.

"Go home then. Don't be afraid that there's nothing here for you. That could happen."

Moody stood up stiffly with one hand against the tree trunk. Hermione noticed that they were alone in the clearing; the crowd had gone. It was just her, Moody, and the tree.

"You're tired, gel, go to sleep. Don't be afraid to sleep, nothing will happen to you."

The instant he said that, Hermione felt her eyelids grow heavy. Her body hummed softly in gentle exhaustion, and she lay down on the field's ground. Moody waved a spade-like hand at her in farewell and shuffled out of her line of vision. Her fingers curled around grass blades; they tickled her nose. They were cool, dry and gray.