The castle was enormous...and it was kind of freaky. The subjects in the portraits that lined the walls moved...and spoke. Rick had been shocked in Professor McGonagall's office when an old man in the painting behind the old witch's desk welcomed him to the castle and introduced himself as Albus Dumbledore. Ghosts – real, live – eh – dead ghosts floated freely around having conversations with each other and the few students wandering the school. The many stone staircases moved at what seemed like random. Hermione assured him that this was not the case. Most of them had a schedule. The only one he was told to worry about was the one near Ravenclaw Tower. Apparently, that one was emotional and subject to frequent mood swings. When it was happy, it led to the owlry. When it was sad, it led to the dungeons. When it was mad, it led somewhere new every half an hour and if someone was unlucky enough to be on it mid-change, it would strand them, leading only to nowhere, until its mood improved. It was best not to upset it. Rick thought that he would wake up any moment but he prayed that he didn't. Hogwarts Castle radiated warmth and safety. His group – no, his family – both of blood and heart might actually have a shot in this magical, unreal world that shouldn't exist.
“Are you alright, Mr. Grimes?”
Rick chuckled as Hermione began leading him up a flight of circular stone steps. “It's Rick,” he corrected, “and, yeah, I'm okay. It's just been one hell of a day.”
“The time change probably didn't help matters either,” Hermione responded sympathetically. “Once I show you where you will be staying you should try and get some rest. I already showed your group how to summon meals from the kitchen and where to get cleaned up. I already summoned Judith a bottle and that big brother of hers seems to have everything under control. He's a real good boy, Rick.”
“He is,” Rick cracked a smile. “And he hasn't had it easy. You have any siblings?”
As they reached a landing, Hermione stopped and her face fell. “I was an only child. My parents died during the first days of the outbreak.”
“You're a...” Rick had to think of the word for a moment, “muggleborn?”
Hermione nodded as she stood in front of a gothic stone window. Behind her, high in the sky, hung the full moon, casting a sad glow on the pretty young woman. “Do you understand now why it's so important to me, helping the muggle world I mean?”
Rick was pretty sure he did. “Because it's not just my world. It's your world too.”
“It's a part of what makes me, me,” Hermione shrugged and Rick had correct himself. Hermione wasn't pretty. She was beautiful in an awkward and kinda stiff way. “I was too late to save my parents but there are still people that can be saved.”
Yeah. Hermione was beautiful and smart, and a pleasant, attractive mixture of sweet and tough. Rick needed to stay the hell away from the witch. It was for his own damn good.
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