A/N: I don't own any of this, except for original characters and plot.
A Tale Untold
Chapter One
She stood just outside the wrought iron gate, peering through the bars at the figure that lurked just above the horizon. Never in the eight years that she had been gone had she thought she'd be back here, back at the place where it all began. She'd vowed never to return to this place. She'd spent years trying to push its memories from her mind. Almost succeeded, too. And then, she'd received the damned letter that had brought her here today.
Flicking her wrist ever so slightly, a large glowing otter appeared and began swimming up to the building that loomed ahead. Through hazel eyes the woman watched it slowly fade into the distance, twisting and turning happily. She remembered a time when she'd been the same way, heading up the same path to the same place.
Shortly after the small animal had completely disappeared from sight, the heavy gates swung open to allow her entrance.
The woman moved her small 5'4 stature through the newly made opening. She didn't even jump when the metal bars clanked together no even five seconds after she'd passed through them. Awaiting her on the other side of the barrier was a small carriage drawn by a beautiful creature. The beauty of the animal, however, only brought morbid thoughts to mind.
She'd wanted to cry when she was first able to see the beings. It was a sight she could have gone forever without seeing, one she desperately wished she had. For a normally overly curious girl, this revelation had been a new one for her. For most of her life, she'd dreamed of learning and seeing everything the world had to offer. She now knew, though, that some things weren't worth the pain and horror that went with it.
Even now, eight years after that first, fateful sighting, she was plagued with the cries and screams that had originally haunted her. The memories were overwhelming. Blood and tears and anger and pain seeped into every aspect of her mind. She froze for a moment, wondering if she could do it, if she could face the past and all it had meant for her. She shook her head to clear herself of the memories, and opened the door to the six-person carriage.
Stepping inside the small enclosed space, memories flooded her mind once more as she took in the red velvet cushions on the long opposing benches. These memories were happy ones, though, filled with laughter and smiles and jokes. The memories were sharp, vivid. She could remember every little detail, feeling, sound, color.
They cut through her with more pain and more agony than the previous memories.
The carriage lurched forward abruptly. The woman was thrown into the seat violently. She hit her head on the wood just mere centimeters from where the padded cushion ended. The loud crack of her temple hitting the solid wall reverberated throughout the carriage and her head. Sinking against the red velvet, she brought her hand to her forehead and massaged her hurt temple lightly.
The meeting was already starting poorly. She was almost thirty minutes late due to some unfortunate circumstances. It had begun raining as well, soaking her clothes and hair to the bone, only adding to the misery of the cold and windy November weather. Not to mention she didn't want to be there in the first place. She was more than a tad disgruntled.
The rid up the sloping path was peaceful, considering. It was a short seven minutes of nature sights lining the only visible path up to a large, looming castle.
Her heart both sank and rose at the sight of the familiar building growing. From the carriage, she could begin to see the busy movement in the corridors and on the grounds. Dozens and dozens of adolescent teenagers clad in familiar black robes and ties moved inside the castle. She smiled grimly, pushing the again returning memories from her mind once more.
The carriage slowly pulled to a stop in front of the brown stone steps that led to two over-sized wooden doors. A student stood silently on the steps, anticipating her arrival with what looked like as much enthusiasm as anticipating a test one knew he was about to fail. He was wearing the custom uniform of black robes, however his donned a small silver badge pinned on his breast. Without even having to inspect the badge itself, the woman in the carriage knew that emblazoned upon the small silver pin were the letters "HB". Before the carriage came to a complete stop, the boy was bounding down the steps quickly to open the door and help her out.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Granger," he greeted her by name, something she internally cringed at. "I hope your journey was pleasant."
"It was, thank you, Mr?" she inquired politely.
"Laney, ma'am. Alex Laney. I'm the Head Boy at Hogwarts this year," Laney introduced himself. "Professor McGonagall sent me to receive you. She was dealing with a rather…uncooperative student at the time."
"Very well, Mr. Laney. Lead the way." Her hand gestured for him to show her where it is she was to go. He took the direction well, obviously just as eager as she was to deliver her to the Headmistress.
When the pair stepped inside the castle, Hermione Granger was greeted with the still familiar sounds of teenage chatter and shuffling students. The sight of the red, green, blue, and yellow jewel filled hourglasses caused her to emit a soft chuckle, remembering just how many of those small jewels she had both won and lost for her house.
The castle hadn't changed much since she'd been gone. The point systems were, of course, still intact, as were the tables that thousands of students had once sat at. The students still wore the same customary ties and robes identifying them with their house and peers. The smell of the incredibly delicious breakfast foods wafting from the Great Hall was still the same, as well.
Naturally, though, the war had had a definite impact on the ancient school. Plaques dedicated to remembering those that were lost hung in the main foyer of the school. Upon seeing the gold plated wall, Hermione felt tears begin to flood her eyes. She blinked them away quickly, willing herself to stay strong.
Hermione jerked her eyes to the back of Alex, forcing herself to focus solely on him. He led her to the statue of the gargoyle that faithfully guarded the Head's office. She'd seen the gargoyle many a time, and knew him well. His name was Henry.
"Hello, Henry," she said softly. The gargoyle sprang to life immediately.
"What? What? Who said my name?" He cried blearily, having just been woken from sleep. His eyes landed on her. "Well I'll be damned. Hermione Granger, is that you?"
"In flesh and blood," she said warmly. Hermione stepped closer and hugged the stone statue. Perfectly sculpted arms engulfed her in a light squeeze – well, what Henry seemed to think was a light squeeze at least. To Hermione, it was something akin to being mauled by Grawp again.
Alex, feeling uncomfortable at the odd display of affection between woman and statue, cleared his throat and awkwardly said, "Well, then…ummm…I suppose I'll leave you here. The password is 'Snickers.'"
"Thank you, Mr. Laney. I'll be sure to let Professor McGonagall know what a help you were."
"Thank you, Ms. Granger. Enjoy your visit," he said rather formally, then walked off. Hermione waited until she no longer heard the soft patter of his footsteps before she spoke to Henry again.
"How are you, old friend? Met anyone who's been up here as many times as me?" Henry laughed, big and boisterously.
"I don't think anyone could compare to your, deary. Your reputation has nothing to worry about. As for myself, well, I've been kind of lonely. No one really talks to me. They just give the password and ignore me, for the most part."
"Oh, Henry. I'm so sorry!"
"'s all right. I suppose you get used to it after a while," he said, resigned. The statue froze for a moment, stone eyes glazed over. When he came back to consciousness, he said, "The Headmistress is requesting you come in now."
Hermione patted his cheek affectionately. "I'll stop by and talk with you after I'm done."
Henry smiled a smile so wide it seemed as if the stone that was his face would crack and then began turning, slowly lifting her to the door of the office. With a soft smile to her old friend, she stepped off the platform and entered the already open door that beckoned her in.
The room was almost exactly the same as she remembered it. Portraits of headmasters past lined the walls, as did bookshelves filled to the brim with old leather bound books. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the Sword of Gryffindor had been returned to its perch behind a glass case. The tattered and ancient Sorting Hat was still placed regally atop a bookcase, his eyes shut and his mouth emitting a soft snore. A large oak desk was placed strategically in the center of the room, as before, only this time the face behind it was not one with a long white beard and familiar twinkling blue eyes. Instead, it was the face of Professor McGonagall that stared back at her.
She had known before she'd stepped foot on the grounds that the current Headmistress was none other than her former Head of House, but in spite of that knowledge, Hermione couldn't believe the sight before her. The older witch stood and smiled brightly at Hermione before bustling around the desk and engulfing the younger woman in a bone-crushing hug.
"Oh, Hermione!" she cried. "It's so good to see you, to know you're safe!"
"I'm glad you're still well, Professor," Hermione responded.
"Now, Hermione, we both know that I'm not you're Professor. I must insist that you call me Minerva," she chastised whilst pulling out from the hug and resuming her seat. Minerva motioned for her to take one of the two seats across from her with a wave of her hand.
"Very well…Minerva," she acquiesced.
"Hermione, where have you been these past eight years? You haven't returned anyone's letters nor contacted any of us yourself. Frankly, I was more than a little surprised when you responded to my letter. As far as I know, I'm the only one who has heard from you since your abrupt departure to Merlin knows where!"
Hermione's hand rubbed her still slightly throbbing head. She didn't want to answer these questions. This was precisely why she'd avoided returning in the first place. She sighed.
"That's how I want it to remain for now, too. Minerva, I didn't come here to be interrogated. I'll answer all of your questions…eventually. But for now, I believe your letter stated that you needed me. Whatever for?"
Minerva sat back in her tall padded chair, irritable accepting Hermione's lack of answer. "Ah, yes," she said. "Well, my dear, it seems as if my Defense Against the Dark Arts professor has decided to put herself out of commission by doing some atrocious thing or another. So, yet again, I find myself in need of a new teacher. Preferably a smart, level-headed witch with actual experience in the subject…" The Scotswoman was arching an eyebrow at Hermione almost accusatorily. Hermione herself was gapping at her in utter disbelief.
Minerva wanted her to teach? More to the point: She wanted her to teach DADA? Hermione was sure she was going mental. Better yet, that dear ol' McGonagall was going mental.
"Err…Minerva? Are you sure there isn't someone a tad more…qualified for the job?"
"More qualified?" Minerva scoffed at the idea. "Than you?" Hermione, you and I both know that the only person that might – might, but probably not – be better trained than you in DADA is that of Harry Potter himself. You even surpass my level of expertise on the subject. And I've fought in three wars now!"
Hermione took a moment to consider what her old professor was implying. In preparing for the Blood War, as it was called now, she had become quite proficient in defense and combat techniques. After a miniscule amount of training, well, suffice it to say, she could have pissed all over Voldemort's inner circle singlehandedly – and she had, in fact. The position would also be a good fit for her as well. She'd been wanted to return to her home country for some time now. It was probably the reason she'd returned for this meeting in the first place.
Soaking in the offer completely, the witch began to nod her head, acquiescing to Minerva's wishes.
"Under of few conditions, of course," she said.
"Anything."
"I want full reign on the lesson plans. No interruptions from school board members, parents, or anyone. I want my students to learn hand to hand combat as well, even if a parental waiver for liability is needed. Lastly, I'll need housing with an extra bedroom."
"I can get you all of that, but I feel compelled to ask: why the extra room?"
"I'll tell you, all in good time," she said, firmly shutting the door on Minerva's investigation.
"Very well," Minerva said. "It'll be done. Will you be able to arrive on Monday?"
"Sure," Hermione said. "I must be going, then. Plenty to do before then."
With a final hug and goodbye, Hermione left the office and an extremely puzzled Minerva behind.
For Hermione, Monday rolled around quickly. By 5 P.M., she was packed and ready to go. She pocketed two small trunks, which contained all of her belongings and were charmed with shrinking and feather-light charms for easy transportation. She gathered the rest of her belongings and looked around the flat she'd lived in for the past eight years. Her eyes became misty with tears. This small space had been her first. She'd been witness to so many memories here, and to say goodbye to the place was far more difficult than she could have imagined.
She placed two sets of keys on the kitchen counter and walked around the now empty apartment, her hand out, lightly caressing the walls. With one final, solemn goodbye, she took hold of the one thing she didn't shrink and apparated to the front gates of Hogwarts.
She arrived with a pop, once again facing the cold metal bars designed to keep out unwanted intruders. This time, however, the wards around the gates recognized her and swung open of their own accord. She hurried to the carriage and climbed in quickly.
The carriage moved swiftly, and the sights flew by once more. She was at the front gates before she was able to register the end of the trip. Thoughts and worries had flooded her mind.
Minerva was waiting for her this time, and Hermione smiled upon seeing her old mentor. She took a deep breath before pulling the handle of the door to the carriage and stepping out.
"Hello, Minerva. How are you?" she asked.
"I'm good Hermione," she replied, stepping forward to embrace Hermione. While this was happening, Minerva felt a small tug on her standard emerald green robes and stepped back from the hug. She was astonished at what she saw.
"Excuse me, Miss, but who are you?" asked a small, timid voice.
Standing beside her was a small girl of seven. She had bushy brown hair and chic black frame, square glasses. What lay behind the glasses was most surprising.
"Minerva," Hermione said, "I'd like you to meet my daughter, Cassidy."
Minerva's cautious eyes flicked between Hermione's hazel eyes, and Cassidy's ever familiar emerald green ones.