The Uncle From America

Chapter 3

Hermione pov

Hermione opened her eyes and immediately felt the harsh pain run through her head. She moaned and lifted her hand towards its origin, somewhere over her right ear, like she'd hit something hard-

A warm, wet tongue lavished her cheeks with attention.

"Crookshanks!" she protested, waving her hand to shoo the cat away. It meowed disapprovingly and jumped off her bed, sneaking out by the half-open window she opened earlier. The girl watched his fluffy tail disappear in the bushes and shook her head in disbelief. She loved her cat, really, but sometimes it acted so much like a...like a cat! Especially when they were home. Back at Hogwarts, Crookshanks had the whole castle to wander through. Here its domain was limited. Perhaps waking her up, leaving fur on her clothes and bringing back dead mice (her mother nearly fainted once) was its way of getting back at her? Although she had read that this kind of behavior was a normal show of affection for a normal cat. But since Crookshanks was a half-kneazle, shouldn't he behave differently?

Something moved downstairs. Hermione froze at the sound. A small part of her suddenly wished the past week had actually been her imagination and her parents were coming back from work.

"An owl? What the fuck's an owl doing here in daylight?"

Her hopes were crushed right away and she shut her eyelids tight to avoid a rush of tears. She recognized the voice belonging to her uncle.

Wait, she thought, opening her eyes again just as fast, did he say 'owl'?

She jumped out her bed, still rubbing the back of her head to soothe the pain. One last check that her wand was still in her pocket and she carefully headed downstairs. She stopped inches from the doorframe where she could overhear people talking:

"-plain later. Just keep 'pigeon carrier' in mind." An unknown, amused voiced spoke up.

"Just sayin' are they trained?" came her uncle's reply. "And isn't that against animal rights?"

"You think about owl's rights rather than the fact they are used as messengers?" The same unknown –female voice –replied.

"I'm less freaked out by owls delivering mail than live pictures in magic history books, so I'll dwell on animal rights right now, thank you."

Hermione stepped a little closer and peeked inside. Clint was standing on a side of the room, eying warily something out of her sight. A second later, he noticed her presence.

"Hello Hermione. Come in." He said, his face suddenly blank. That expression –or lack of- reminded her of when Harry was struggling to deal with particularly nasty news. And just like that, she realized he must have seen her stuff from Hogwarts spread around her bedroom and figured out she wasn't quite normal. Hermione swallowed nervously, and stepped in the living-room. There was a familiar white owl set on the couch's armchair, Hedwig's favorite spot whenever she came to deliver letters, and an unknown woman petting it. A brunette, tall and thin and wearing a business-like suit. Her steel-blue eyes set on the teenager and she smiled in a friendly way.

"Hello Hermione. Does your head still hurt?"

The teenager reflexively made a brief move towards the sore spot, but kept her eyes on the stranger. Hedwige didn't seem bothered by her presence, eyes closed in approval and demanding more attention. The owl's ease reassured Hermione somehow.

"I'm better. What happened?"

"You fell on your head and lost consciousness. Clint brought you back home. He tumbled upon your stuff and I believe he has a few questions for you."