When I had finished the books I felt bereft! No more Harry. No more things to discover. Over the months after finishing the series I found myself idly inventing new plotlines that could be super-imposed on the existing ones and expanding on the background stories and history of the events. Nothing that changed anything fundamental - just new angles, new ideas, new characters. I then stumbled on FanFiction and found a whole website devoted to weirdos like me who just can't let go!
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter! The stories and characters belong to the incomparable JK Rowling.
Chapter 1: Hermione Who?
Harry was in the Gryffindor common room wearily filling out star charts for his astronomy homework. It was nearly 3am. He and Ron had spent all evening ignoring their potions essay, expecting that Hermione would show up sooner or later and let them copy hers. She often refused to help Harry but somehow always relented in the end when it was Ron's neck on the line.
"She'll enjoy a bit of eye rolling and lecturing first, then she'll give in, mate' Ron had predicted cheerfully.
"She made me do my own History of Magic essay. I begged her for hours but she flatly refused" said Harry.
"You've just got to know how to win her round" Ron smirked. "You made the mistake of playing the friendship card which let her lecture you on how making you do your own homework is in your best interests. A bit of well timed flattery is far more effective. It's the only potions praise she ever gets."
Harry saw the logic of this. Besides the Gryffindor vs Slytherin grudge match was coming up at the weekend and discussing team tactics was a far more enticing prospect than a dreary essay on the toxicology of the Botein Bellied Toadstool.
They passed a couple of happy hours dreaming of Gryffindor Glory and Sltheryin Annihilation, with a few broken limb fantasies thrown in but finally the boys fell silent as they realised it was now 11pm and there was still no sign of Hermione.
"Where on earth can she be' said Harry beginning to feel a little worried.
"Probably still in the library researching a few extra rolls worth of boring, pointless facts' said Ron viciously. "I'm too tired to start this now. I'll have to get up early." With that he stomped off to bed in a temper.
Harry watched him go, thinking, not for the first time, that his best mate could frankly be a bit of a git. He then pulled out his parchment resigning himself to a few tedious hours in the company of toxic toadstools. Followed by dull star charting. Which still left the unfinished history of magic essay. He really had tried to get that one done but had kept falling asleep while writing to wake up with a crick in his neck and a pool of drool smudging his work. He'd be doing homework till dawn he realised. But he had no intention of going to bed until he knew Hermione was safe so he might as well kill time doing something useful.
As the minutes stretched to hours the tension and anxiety slowly increased. Where was she? If he had any idea where to begin, he would go off looking for her. But there was no point. She could be anywhere. He had looked at the Marauder's Map time and time again in the past few hours, hoping to see her name, but she did not even appear to be in the castle. But surely that was impossible?
But then Hermione had suddenly begun to do all sorts of things he had not considered possible. Apparate for example. Her suddenly revealed ability to apparate at the tender age of 15 had saved his skin at a recent Hogsmeade trip. One second he was enjoying a Florean Fortescue Fudge Sundae, the next he had seen none other than Bellatrix Lestrange bearing down on him – her face crazed with rage, wand up and clearly intent on murder and mayhem. A split second later he was apparating with the vice-like grip of Hermione on encircling his wrist. They landed in a heap outside the walls of the castle.
"what the hell-" he spluttered.
"I know I mean what was she doing in Hogsmeade" shrieked Hermione, her face red and flustered.
"Not her. YOU!" Harry roared. "How can you apparate?"
"Oh, well" Hermione fell silent. Then rapidly began to speak:
"Look just because it's only legal from 17 doesn't mean younger people can't do it. Plenty of muggle 10 years old's can drive cars. And after all you can cast a corporeal Patronus. How many adults can't do that?".
"Fine, so it's technically possible. But Hermione it's illegal. Apparating under-age would definitely get you expelled, and quite possibly arrested!"
"I used time turners in our third year. We all broke the rules with the DA didn't we? I risked arrest searching Umbridge's office. I broke into the Ministry of Magic for goodness sake!"
"But, but..." She was doing it again. Twisting him in knots. Confusing him. Everything she said sounded reasonable. Hermione had never shied away from protecting him, no matter what the risks or costs to her. But somehow that didn't seem the same as -
"Look I like learning things," she continued interrupting his protests. "So I learnt to apparate this year. So what? If I know about a type of magic I want to be able to do it... And I didn't tell you & Ron because you'd just pester me all the time to teach you and I can't be bothered" she had suddenly added nastily."Between writing your essays & researching your star signs I don't have spare time left over to teach you apparition." And she stalked off, leaving Harry bewildered. It was certainly true that she could do advanced magic. After all she was using Newt Level Protean charms at 14. But risk expulsion? Or even arrest? Just out of a desire to learn? It just seemed utterly unlike her.
As he remembered that odd episode, he also considered the fact that Hermione had developed a bit of a habit of disappearing lately. Somehow she always had a vaguely credible explanation but Harry got the distinct feeling that she was hiding things from him. Just like everyone else. A surge of anger flooded him suddenly. No-one was EVER straight with him. No-one EVER told him the truth. He had been manipulated, lied to and kept in the dark all his life. Was one of his closest friends joining in with the general 'Don't Tell Harry' conspiracy?
It was no good, he couldn't concentrate. He got to his feet and began pacing in worry and frustration. As the clock chimed 3 the portrait swung open and Hermione tumbled in. She did not see Harry at first. She was breathing heavily, her hair was wild and she had clearly been crying.
"Hermione, what's wrong?" exclaimed Harry
"She swung round and met his eyes. She was wide-eyed, looked horrified & seemed unable to speak.
"Hermione? Hermione?"
Finally she seemed to come to herself. She gave him a small smile of acknowledgement then looked to the floor, her eyes filling with tears again.
Harry rushed forwards and put his arms around her. She was freezing. He guided her to a chair by the fire which he had kept alight through the long night. He knelt next to her, stroking her hair, waiting for her to speak.
Finally Hermione quietly said "I'm tired. I'm going to bed".
"But what's happened?" Harry said. "What's wrong"
She seemed to be struggling with herself. For a while it seemed she was not going to tell him anything. But suddenly she spoke: "I found out tonight that my father is dying".
"Your father? Oh Hermione, that's terrible. What's wrong with him?"
Again Hermione was silent, apparently in the grip of an internal struggle. Appearing to come to a decision, she began to speak.
"Harry, there are things about me you don't know," she said falteringly.
Harry stayed silent wrestling with competing emotions. The loss of a father was a terrible thing. He of all people understood that. So his heart went out to her. But at the same time, here was the proof of what he had long suspected. Not even his closest ally and confidante, his trusted friend, had been honest with him. Even she had concealed things from him.
She took his silence as permission to continue. Taking a deep breath she went on:
" Harry, I am not muggle born."
"What!" Harry shouted, his sympathy for her grief forgotten in the fury of realising that this most basic truth about her was in fact untrue. She had told him she was muggle born at aged 11. She had lied all along from the very beginning. But why? WHY?
"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm sorry. I was told I mustn't ever tell anyone who my parents are. I was told I would come to Hogwarts claiming to be muggle born. Harry it wasn't YOU I was lying to, it was everyone. I was 11. I was used to secrecy. It is all I've known."
"You and me both" muttered Harry.
"It was all I'd ever known" Hermione repeated. "I never saw it as a betrayal. I just saw it as a fact of life."
"Great way to live" remarked Harry bitterly. "Glad you never lost sleep over it".
"Lying is a way of life for all witches and wizards" retorted Hermione with a surge of spirit.
"We lie to the entire non-magical population. We marry muggles before we tell them who and what we are. If they object – as many do - we modify their memories leaving them bewildered and confused. We routinely subject muggles to memory charms and other abuses to protect our way of life. Do we tell our muggle friends at primary school who we truly are. No! We lie. And when they tell teachers they saw us making flowers fly or turning slugs into cigars we let them get punished for making up stories."
"We do that because it's necessary" said Harry, uncertainly, suddenly aware for the first time that there really was something a bit dodgy about some of the implications of the secrecy statutes.
"Exactly!" cried Hermione impatiently. "I was brought up believing that pretending to be muggle born was necessary. And it WAS necessary!" It still IS necessary, so if you intend to get all whiter than white about it and blab to others, I'll have to do a bit of memory modifying myself!"
Harry fell silent. He was still stunned by this revelation, startled by Hermione's ferocity and pretty angry that she was actually threatening him. But he also felt the prickling of shame. How well he remembered his own miserable childhood: the fear on the faces of other children & the anger on the faces of teachers when magic burst out of him. His bizarre haircut. His impossible leap onto the roof of buildings when he was being chased. Treated like a freak, an abnormality, a child to be shunned and feared. He had never considered the situation in reverse: muggle children frightened by uncontrolled magic. Why had he never considered this? After all, he had seen his Aunt Petunia's distress at the magical antics of her younger sister in the pensieve. And that was just innocent magic by a playful child. What would thugs like Crabbe and Goyle do to their muggle classmates when they realised they had powers that no-one else had? And, even worse, that no-one would believe the other children if they told.
"Go on" he said, quietly.
Hermione sighed.
"I lie. I have grown up lying. I hate myself for it but I can see no other option. And it is so easy to deceive because no-one ever suspects. Sometimes I wish people would wake up to it. But to be honest I am constantly astonished by how easy people are to control and manipulate. You grew up with muggles. They have democracy. We live in a dictatorship. Our news is controlled. Our leaders appointed not elected. Hasn't that ever bothered you?"
"No" said Harry entirely truthfully. When he saw what a mess muggles made of things, he couldn't really see that it was any worse under the Ministry of Magic. Not that he had ever given it any thought, anyway.
"So it's ok with you, that Umbridge still has power in the ministry? That she was never held to account for what she did at Hogwarts" Hermione asked softly.
Harry was startled. No that wasn't right. Of course it wasn't.
"But she was investigated, disciplined wasn't she" he said.
"Yes and she got a slap on the wrist for going a bit far! A bit far!" Hermione exclaimed impatiently. "Don't you realise that the ministry view is there is nothing fundamentally wrong with what she did. That it's basically ok to repeatedly change laws at the drop of a hat to grant yourself more power and to deprive other people of their rights and freedoms. As long as you don't go too far with it..."
Again Harry was lost for words. He had never considered how his world was structured. He had just accepted things as they were. "I've just never really thought about it" he said.
"Well that's deliberate too" said Hermione grimly. Her eye caught his History of Magic essay.
"Finding your homework stimulating? Is it prompting you to go and research the area in more detail? Triggering heated debates among your classmates?" she queried sarcastically.
"Course, not. It's history of magic. Who has any interest in that?"
"What's the essay about?"
Harry struggled to even remember.
"Erm, the revolutions of the someone-or other and the development of the thingy charters and the, er... It's an essay on Chapter 7, paragraphs 22-35" he finished lamely.
Otherwise known as "The Liberty Revolutions and the Great Suppression." Said Hermione. "A violent war in which wizards demanding freedom from the authoritarian role of the Ministry drew up the Great Charter of the Liberties of The Forest in 1378. They were ruthlessly hunted down and killed. Challenging ministry authority became and remains a crime punishable by life-time imprisonment in Azkaban or death. It is still legal to use unforgiveable curses on people suspected of treason. Umbridge was willing to use the Cruciatus curse on you – a schoolboy – because 'ministry security' was at stake."
"Well why hasn't Binns taught us that then?"
"He has, you idiot" said Hermione. "You are currently writing an essay on it for goodness sake. But he teaches in a way that ensures no-one has any real clue about the meaning of what he is saying, no-one remembers and most importantly, no-one cares!"
"I guess he is a bit boring, but -"
"A bit boring! Harry, he has been teaching in the same monotonous drone, using the same dreary text book in the same stuffy overheated classroom for over 300 years! By the way, you may be interested to know that the text book is the only one published covering the history of magic and has been translated into 376 languages. And it sends school-kids to sleep in all of them!"
Harry fell silent yet again, considering what Hermione was saying. It was certainly true that he had sometimes been vaguely aware that subjects like the Giant Wars and the Goblin Uprisings might be more interesting with a better teacher. It was also true that he had never bothered reading up on the history himself.
"But why? I don't get it. What's the point of making a subject as boring as possible?"
"The ministry doesn't want another revolution. They tried banning the subject but you saw what happened to the Quibbler when they banned the copy carrying your interview. So 300 years ago they came up with a much better plan. Teach it – in fact make it compulsory – but do it in a way that stultifies, deadens and bores. Can you really see Binns and his tedious text- book inspiring revolution?"
Harry eyed Hermione suspiciously. "So you're telling me you are a secret revolutionary. With secret revolutionary parents."
Hermione gave a snort. "No. Not even close. I am as brainwashed as the rest of you."
"So how do you know all this?"
"I think" she snapped.
"Well it's all very interesting but what's it got to do with you not being muggle-born?"
"Nothing directly. I am just trying to explain that secrets, half-truths, manipulation and lies are the witch and wizard way". She hesitated, then added, "and the closer you are to the heart of things, the more you see that. The more you believe it is necessary. The more you accept it." Hermione looked back to the floor. "I should not be telling you this. I should not be telling you anything."
Harry was burning with curiosity. If Hermione wasn't muggle born, who exactly was she?
To be continued...