"Mother, professor Dumbledore is here to take me to get my supplies," a young Hermione Granger yelled, running down the wide staircase.
"Alright, have fun dear, and mind your manners," Jane Granger said, meeting her at the bottom of the stairs for a hug.
"I will, mother. Where has father gone," she asked, looking around.
"He has some...business to attend to, but he should be back before you come home," Jane answered, giving the young girl a look.
"Has Johnson done something stupid again," the girl asked, an odd twinkle in her eyes.
"I'm afraid so, dear," Jane sighed, her annoyance clear.
"Don't worry, father will deal with him. Hopefully for good this time," she reassured the annoyed woman, a dark smile on her face as she strode to the door.
"We shall see," her mother sighed, handing her a warm jacket.
"Hello professor," Hermione greeted, all traces of anything sinister gone from her face, replaced by a misleading charming smile.
"Hello, young miss Granger. Are you all set for our trip," he asked, eyes twinkling.
"Of course, professor," she grinned.
"Then we are off! Goodbye Mrs. Granger," he said, waving to the girls mother.
"Goodbye," she returned, seeing them off before shutting the door.
Making sure it's locked, she strode back down to the basement, where a battered man hung from the pipes on the ceiling. He started to struggle when he saw her approach, and she smirked.
Grabbing a scalpel, she stood in front of him as she took the gag from his mouth,"Are you going to talk now?"
"Go to hell," he spat.
"Have it your way," she sighed, replacing the gag.
Whithout hesitation, and with practiced precision, she began to cut into his body, avoiding any major arteries. His screams were muffled by the gag, but that didn't stop Jane from enjoying the pain filled cries. She tisked as he began so pass out, stopping her assault to stop the bleeding. Once he came to, the proses started all over again, the room filled with his cries and her dark laughter.
"Professor, can I ask you a question," Hermione said, as the walked through the busy alley.
"But of course," he answered.
"Do you think I could come from a magical family," she asked, her hazel eyes looking up at him curiously.
"Why would you ask that," he asked, regarding her.
"I'm adopted," she began, looking down at her feet for a moment,"my parents adopted me from and orphanage in America. My real parents were found murdered, with me still in the room."
"It could be possible, I suppose," he said thoughtfully.
"I don't think they were muggles," she said, as the walked into Gringotts bank.
"And why is that," he asked, smiling politely at the manager as he stood in line.
"I read the article on their death. No one knew who they were. No friends, no paperwork on them, no one came to claim me, or their bodies. And, the coroner couldn't find a cause of death. It was like they just suddenly both dropped dead," she said, gazing in wonder at all the goblins.
"That it curious," he agreed, knowing immediately what could have caused such a death, but needing confirmation.
"Oh, hello Albus. What do I owe the pleasure," a stubby goblin said, finally looking up from his writing.
"We are here to exchange some money for miss Granger here," he said, pointing to her.
"Hello," she said, smiling at the goblin.
Griphook was surprised, usually Muggleborns were afraid of him. He smiled back, deciding that he liked this small human.
"Hello," he replied, before taking the offered money and leaving to make the exchange.
"Perhaps we should check at the Ministry of Magic once we've finished your shopping. If you are correct, any records of your family will be there," Dumbledore said, while they waited.
"I'd like that," Hermione said, smiling at him.
"Here we are," Griphook announced, handing Dumbledore two pouches.
"Thank you, sir," Hermione said, charming the small goblin.
He nodded to her, before going back to his books.
"What's first," she asked, eager as any 12 year old would be.
"We get your wand," he said, and she beamed at him.
As they entered the small shop, Ollivander looked up and greeted them,"hello, young one, here for your first wand I take it."
"Yes, sir," she replied, looking at all the boxes in the shop.
"Hmm. Give me a moment," he said, going to retrieve a few boxes.
He came back with three, before pulling out the first. It was Alder, unicorn hair, 10 2/3 inches. Hermione picked it up, and gave it a slight swish. The box it was in caught on fire. Luckily, Dumbledore was quick to put the fire out.
"Perhaps you should try this one," Ollivander said, taking it back and handing her another.
It was Rowan, Phoenix feather, 11 inches. The moment she picked it up, she knew-like the last one- it was wrong. She sat it back down without a word. Thirty minutes and dozens of wands later, the wand maker looked at her with an odd look, before leaving to go into the back. He came back with a blood red box, with black trim and a gold crest of some kind.
"I have only ever known this type of wand to be given to one family, the last of which has been killed off around twelve years ago. The wand itself is very powerful, and I've only given it to people that could handle that power," he said, opening the lid of the box.
The moment the lid was removed, Hermione felt a pull to it, and she reached out to grasp the handle. The moment her hand made contact with it, she felt a warm glow spread through her body, and a bright smile lit up her face.
"Oh, my," the wand maker said, realizing what just happened.
"What kind of wand is that," Dumbledore asked, taking note of his shocked face.
"It's Aspen wood, with a Re'em Horn core. 12 3/4 inches," he said, watching as Hermione caused sparks to fly from the wand.
"I've never heard of that kind of core before," Dumbledore said.
"It's very rare. I have only ever seen one wand made with it, and I was a very young boy. It comes from a very rare magical beast found only in America and Scotland," he explained.
"I think this is the one," Hermione whispered, smiling.
"I'll wrap it up for you," Ollivander said, smiling with a knowing look.
"Thank you," she said, smiling back.
"Well, here we are, the Ministry of Magic," Dumbledore said, leading her into the building.
Hermione grinned as she ducked under a stray flying paper. Her eyes were filled with wander as she took all the movements and fast paced work going on.
"This way," Dumbledore said, leading her to the family archives.
"This place is amazing," Hermione said, looking at all the books and portraits lining the walls of the room they were in.
"Indeed," he replied, motioning for her to stand next to an orb sitting on a stand,"Now just stand still and this orb will trace your magical signature for any known relatives."
The orb started to levitate and glow, before it moved to circle her. It started to glow a bright red, before turning gold. The wall behind her hummed before moving to show an old archive.
"This way," he said, leading her into the room before standing out by the front to give her privacy.
On the far wall, hundreds of portraits lined the walls under them their names and connections. They all turned and looked as she walk in, and one on the far right near the bottom spoke first.
"My god, Henry look!"
She had flaming red hair that was pulled into a French twist, her hazel eyes were glinting with a dark knowledge that hinted at more then a pretty face. Her cheekbones were high and strong and her soft jawline gave her a soft beauty.
The man in question turned and looked at Hermione with surprise. He had curly platinum blonde hair that hung over his eyes. His eyes were a deep green, but if you looked you could see hints of red from constant use of the dark arts. He had a scar that rested on his chin, but otherwise he showed no hint of flaws on his face. His skin was fair, and his face had a boyish look, making him look years younger then he was.
"Hermione," he said, calling to her.
"You know me," she asked, frowning.
"He is your father," the woman said, smiling gently at her.
"M-My father," she asked, looking back to the man,"Impossible, I look nothing like him, or any of you."
"The men that killed us, they wanted you dead, too. Before they could kill any of us, a woman stopped them and told them to leave you with Muggles, so you'd never know who you were. They put a glamour on you," he said, looking away.
"So I'm not Muggleborn," she asked, trying to take it all in.
"Don't be silly, you are of the purest families in America," a portrait yelled, from a higher row.
"Father, not all Muggles are bad. I'm quite fond of the ones called Blue Bloods," another said, speaking up.
"Silence!"
All the portraits stopped arguing, when the man at the very top spoke. He moved from one frame to the next until he was eye level with her. She looked at him with wonder, she could practically feel his power through the portrait.
"Come to, young one," he hissed.
She found it odd that he would hiss at her, but took a few steps forward. He smiled, patting her father on the shoulder.
"She is of my seed," he said, looking at her.
"I don't understand," she said, confused, all she did was take a few steps.
"You speak in the tongue of the snakes. Only those of my seed can do that," he said, smiling proudly at her.
"You mean I'm not just hearing things, when I go to the zoo," she asked.
"Surly not, if it is the snakes that talk to you. Do not fear this gift, young one, embrace it," he said.
"Who are you," she asked, watching him.
"I am Salazar Slytherin," he said, stoking his long gray beard.
"Like the house," she asked.
"I created the house," he said, smiling devilishly.
"So, you're my.."
"Distant grandfather," he finished.
"Wow," she said, looking at him and everyone else in awe.
"Hermione, are the people that take care of you...are they good to you," her mother asked.
"My family, we are very powerful. My father works in politics and my mother is an ex enforcer. They love me and take care if me like I'm their own, but they always said that if I ever found my real family and wanted to be with them, they would let me. I have a very happy life. I guess you can call them Blue Bloods," she said, smiling at the thought of her family.
"Then they have done well, for Muggles. I wish to meet them," her father said, looking at her.
"How," she frowned.
"Bring them here, when you can. I would like to thank them for taking care of the last of our line," he said, smiling at her.
"I will," she said, happy that he isn't mad at them.
"Muggles? Here? You go too far, Henry," someone yelled.
"Leave him! These people kept my last heir alive and well, I shall allow it once," Salazar said.
"She is nothing! A Muggle lover," a woman yelled.
"I'm not nothing," Hermione yelled, eyes flashing dangerously,"my parents love me. When all the other Muggles turned their back on me and bullied me because I was different, they still cared. I could care less if they're Muggle, I only care that the love me."
"She is a powerful one! You would do well to watch your tongue, Rozlana," Salazar said, smiling gleefully.
"But father-"
"That's enough! Hermione, do you love Muggles?"
"No, I love my parents," she said defiantly, sticking out her chin.
"Very well. That is acceptable under the circumstances. You should return home, I will have someone get the Minister to sort out and fix your records," he said, biding her a good day.
"So you met your parents," Andrew asked his daughter, as they sat to eat.
"Yes, and they want to meet you. I can show you tomorrow if you want," she said, grinning.
"Of course sweetheart," Jane said, smiling at her daughter.
"So, did you get him to talk," Hermione asked her mother, eating her chicken.
"Don't I always," Jane relied.
"Is he dead," she asked, looking up at her.
"No, not this time. I left him near the hospital," Jane said, before putting food into her mouth.
"Good. That smell is horrid," Hermione said, crinkling her nose.
Her father just laughed, patting her on the shoulder.