AN: Here is another story up for the vote of continuation. Read it and enjoy.
Disclaimer: The only thing that's mine here is the plot.
Chapter 1
Gift
Wendell shut the trunk of his car and started for the front door of his home. Since the birth of Hermione Sylvia, Wendell and Monica Granger hadn't been able to travel together as they once did. In fact, this was his first time being apart from his sweet Nickie and his little song bird, Sylvia. Hermione was only four and Monica couldn't leave her baby behind with some stranger. Family and friends refused to babysit her after the… incidents; a series of strange occurrences around his daughter that defied all logical explanation. These… events were quite harmless really. Making toys float here, changing room colors there, and a few other bits of innocent things that any child would fancy themselves doing if they were capable. However harmless these events, it was enough to scare off every person Wendell and Monica trusted around their baby girl. Even the local daycare refused to take her after Hermione, his little Sylvia, had entertained a bunch of homesick and crying children by making the toy animal figurines move and act like the creatures they were modeled after.
The children were amused. The adults were not.
Because of this, the Granger dentists were unable to attend conferences in other countries to give their famous speeches on dental care. That was until three weeks ago when their stand-in had a family emergency and had to visit his ailing grandmother in-law. Wendell could find no one else, and decided to go to the convention. Alone.
Wendell was never happier to see home with its off white walls and the front door that was horrid shade of green and the strange snake lawn ornaments. Monica had a strange fixation on the slimy beasts. She said she had dreams of them being a big part of her daughter's life. Of course Wendell would have none of it. He thought snakes were vicious, bloodthirsty beasts that would sooner bite than leave you alone.
All thoughts of scaled nightmares vanished, however, when the door opened and a curly haired toddler waddle-ran down the walkway with the biggest grin on her face while shouting, "Daddy! Daddy!"
"My little songbird!" Wendell bent over and swooped up his offspring with one arm. He pressed countless kisses into her gold-brown hair, making her giggle and squeal in delight. Her mother, a brown haired beauty joined them and took the place for Wendell's affection. "Hello darling. Surprised?"
The woman grinned. "I am! I thought you'd be another week!"
Wendell laughed merrily. "Daryl came and took over for me. His grandmother in-law died in her sleep and he was more than willing to get away from his wife's psychotic family."
Monica shook her head in mock derision. "Men."
"Hey, I don't blame him! Dementia is one he… heck of an illness. I wouldn't want to hang around an elder with it either!"
"Daddy!" Both parents turned their attention to their daughter. "Present?"
Wendell arched an eyebrow. "A present? You think I have a present for you?"
The little girl nodded, still grinning from ear to ear.
"Well only good girls get presents. Were you a good girl for mommy while daddy was away?" Wendell already knew the answer. Hermione was a good child. She was well behaved (most of the time) and gladly followed the rules. She showed signs of being quite intelligent and enjoyed learning. Wendell and Monica knew they were blessed, though the sporadic bursts of… strange they could live without.
"I've been good! Promise!"
"I know." Wendell kissed her forehead before setting her down and reached into his coat pocket for her belated birthday gift. He almost missed the warm season down south. It could get quite chilly in London during October. "Alright! Ready to see what I brought you from the great plains of India?"
"Daddy! Plains are as… as-so-ci-ated with Africa!"
"Yes they are, but there are plains in India as well. Now are you ready?" He palmed the rock in his pocket. When little Sylvia nodded, he pulled it out with flourish. "Ta da! Something new and pretty for your collection!"
Hermione squealed in delight and took the rock for evaluation. It was small, the size and shape of a chicken egg and polished to perfection. The surface was smooth and the colours almost fog-like in appearance, blues and greens and even hints of purple swirled together, mixing and separating once again. It was as if the shell was made of glass and the coloured smoke was trapped inside, restless and always moving. A trick of the light most likely. Wendell was stunned by the brilliance of the stone when he first saw it and knew a certain toddler would love its colors. He was a little creeped out that it had been sitting beneath a big frog, but that was the stall owner's pet and Wendell didn't want to insult him by saying it was unsanitary to let a frog touch the merchandise. "It's so pretty!"
"It is! Why don't you go add it to your collection of random things."
"They're not random! They're all important to me!" Hermione pouted her perfectly pink, cupid bow lips up at her father before returning to her examination of her new rock. Her brow furrowed in the cutest manner and she looked up at her father in wonder. "I think it's an egg!"
Wendell and Monica, adults and very grown up, knew that no egg looked like that rock but humoured their daughter's imagination. The counselor said it was good to encourage creativity in children. "I bet it is, songbird. Let's hope that it doesn't hatch, though. We already have two cocker spaniels and we don't need any more pets. Where are those dogs anyway? They're usually jumping all over me when I get home."
Monica nodded at the house. "In the back yard. Hermione dear, run along inside now. Daddy and I need to get started on dinner."
Hermione appeared as annoyed as a four year old could, cupping the stone gently. "But it is an egg! I can feel the baby's heartbeat and everything!"
"That's nice dear. Now off to your rooms." Wendell shot his wife a look and she returned it. This is the first time they'd been apart since before they were married. They thanked god again for blessing them with a child that was happy to stay in her rooms and entertain herself.
Very blessed indeed.
Hermione left her parents outside, mentally commentating on their dismissal of her discovery. Hermione puffed out her chest. She had learned those adult words from listening to her mother conversing with other adults. She was praised when she said them outloud and in the right… context.
The egg thrummed in her hand and Hermione rubbed the shell with her thumb. "Don't worry! I'll take care of you until you hatch! I hope you'll stay after you hatch, though. I don't much like the dogs. Their claws hurt and they're really annoying."
The egg thrummed in response and Hermione was satisfied. She entered her room and made a warm nest to incubate the egg. Hermione knew it wouldn't be long before it hatched. She could feel it.
Meanwhile, in the magical world, a team of Aurors were apprehending a Dark Wizard for illegally breeding Basilisks and selling them to Muggles. All of the eggs were recollected and destroyed for the public's safety.
All but one.
VHK
Hermione woke up the next morning to a miracle.
The egg had hatched and amid the pile of shirts was a beautiful baby snake. Its skin was black and it had a crest of blue and green feathers on the top of its triangular head. It opened its slitted yellow eyes and hissed in greeting. Hermione felt her body freeze up for a moment, but it passed quickly. Her body shivered in unease. Hermione had a feeling that she had just had a brush with death and lived to tell the tale.
The snake watched her for a spare few moments before slithering over to the window and disappeared into the backyard and into the yonder. Hermione was a little sad to see the baby go, but a little relieved as well. She thought it would be a bird of some kind anyway. She didn't know how to care for a snake! It would probably be better off in the wild. Hermione went about her life as normal.
Well, as normal as a muggleborn child's life can go.
Three years passed and Hermione soon became ostracized by her peers. Adults liked her quite nicely as she was incredibly clever and witty, preferring to converse with her teachers than with children her own age. This only made her more unpopular and Hermione turned into a victim of bullying. Children made fun of her name, her intelligence, her overly large teeth, her bushy hair, her near sugar-free diet, her clothes, and her lack of friends. Hermione, already an introverted child, curled further into herself and hid away from her cruel classmates. She spent her time reading and studying, learning new things that she may or may not need to know one day.
Daddy always told her to be prepared.
Hermione was very lonely, but books kept her company and the occasional animal that she didn't dare tell anyone that she could understand. Soon enough, her teachers realized her astounding intellect and Hermione found herself skipping two years of grade school. However, a seven year old amongst nine and ten year olds was not welcome. Especially when she got the highest grades.
Hermione was walking home one day, her school uniform torn, bookbag held together by mere threads, missing a shoe, covered in bruises and bleeding, when she saw a strange man. The male was heavily scarred, his pale skin a physical representation of each of his triumphs over death. His right eye, a flinty gunmetal gray, was overshadowed by his much larger left eye that swiveled restlessly in it's socket and seemingly held in place by a black band secured over his straw blond hair. He was using a tall, wooden staff to hold himself up as one of his legs was obviously fake. He was dressed in strange, dark green robes and she could smell the sharp scent of alcohol from her spot not ten paces away from him. Hermione deduced that either someone had spilled it on him earlier or this strange man was a heavy drinker. She confirmed the latter when she saw him pull out a flask and drink from it greedily.
All thoughts of shameful vices disappeared when that large, blue eye landed on her. The man stiffened and put his flask away. His brow furrowed and and he turned to regard the girl with scrutiny. "You eyein' me, lassie?"
Hermione, embarrassed at getting caught, shook her head wildly and looked past him. She was one block away from her house. She was already running late due to being jumped by her older classmates. Maybe one of her parents would peek out and call her home. Or she could pretend she never saw the man and go home.
But that would mean walking right past him.
And Hermione did not want to do that.
The man's shoulders lost some of their tension, but only some. He was still eying her in suspicion. His voice made her jump "What happened to you? Looks like you got into a fight with a hippogriff and lost."
She thought it strange that he brought up a supposedly mythical creature and used it in comparison to the bullies that did this to her, but she answered him anyway. "The children at school don't like me. They say I'm a kiss ass and a bookworm. I may look bad, but those buggering wankers look worse."
The man's right eye grew wide in wide in shock. After a moment of still tension, he snorted in what Hermione assumed was humour. She had a feeling it took a lot to make this scarred man laugh. "Is that so? You couldn't be a fifty pounds soaking wet. What can a tiny thing like you do?"
She stood a little straighter, insulted that this stranger had underestimated her. "I'll have you know I've got a few tricks up my sleeve! I'm a lot more dangerous than I look!"
Before he could reply, another man popped into existence beside him with a subtle crack. Unlike the blond and somewhat stout and scarred man, this one had dark, flawless skin. His brown eyes were kinder, his body as relaxed as a panthers. Even their clothes were vastly different. Where Mr. Alcoholic One-eye dressed in darker colors, his new companion wore bright robes resembling african attire and patterns. He opened his mouth, but closed it upon noticing the small girl having a stare off with one of the most feared Auror's in Scotland and England, arguably the whole wizarding world. "Moody, that little girl can see you. I think you're losing your touch."
The scarred man, Moody, scowled at the darker male. "Shut it, Shacklebolt! And the Disillusionment Charm is working fine! No muggles have spotted me yet!"
One of Shacklebolt's eyebrows climbed higher on his forehead. "Except her?"
"I can hear you!" Hermione was getting quite irritated with these strange men talking about her as if she weren't there. Who did they think they were barging into her neighborhood and acting as if they owned it?
Both men focused on her again. "So you can. I apologize. It was very rude of me."
"Yes it was." Hermione crossed her arms in agreement. She would not offer false comfort to someone that was in the wrong. Hermione decided to ignore Shacklebolt's abrupt arrival and not question it. She had done far weirder things, after all. She turned back to Moody. "As I was saying, I may be small, but so is the poison dart frog, and you don't see anyone trying to make a pet out of them!"
Shacklebolt's eyebrows shot up when Moody chuckled, his sneering lips drawn up into a grin. "I like you, girlie!"
Hermione shrugged nonchalantly. "Every adult likes me. It's the children that are the problem." She peered up at the two men suspiciously. "What are you doing here anyway? Did you just move in? I recall there being a house for sale two streets over."
Shacklebolt shook his head. "No. We received word of a… very dangerous creature that has been roaming about around here. We are trying to find it and capture it before it attacks any mor… people. Any people. It's very dangerous. In fact, you should head on home to your parents."
Hermione's eyes narrowed. "This is the suburbs and I haven't heard of any animals escaping from the London zoo. What creature are you looking for?"
Both males gaped at the little girl and her rather logical questions. Shacklebolt, being a good diplomat and people person, recovered first and told the partial truth. "It isn't from the zoo, and you wouldn't have heard of it as it is being kept secret to avoid public panic. A man has been breeding… very big, poisonous snakes, and one has escaped. We've heard that there have been sightings in this area and we are here to catch it before it has a chance to hurt people."
Hermione pondered his explanation for a few moments. It made sense to her. If the neighborhood heard that there was a large, venomous snake slithering around, they would all lose their minds and panic. She nodded and uncrossed her arms. "That makes sense. Well, best of luck to you all. I hope you find it soon. I have to go home now."
Shacklebolt relaxed while Moody continued to eye the girl in stunned shock. "What's your name, lassie?"
Hermione stood up straight and offered her hand. "I'm Hermione Sylvia Granger."
Moody gently took her hand and gave it a firm shake. "Alastor Moody. This is my partner, Kingsley Shacklebolt."
"Nice to meet you Alastor Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt. Now, if you excuse me, it's getting rather late, and my parents are expecting me home. Good day to you both." Hermione walked past them, no longer feeling in danger for her life, and limped home. Both men watched her in awed curiosity.
"She's a sharp one."
Moody grunted in agreement. "I'm almost sad to see her go. That one'll grow up to be quite a little arse kicker."
Shacklebolt shrugged and returned to the task at hand. "Any sign of the Basilisk?"
The scarred Auror's body tensed once more as his irritation at his team's idiocy came back. "Not a bloody scale to be found! I thought you said the damn thing'd be easy to find after three years! Said it would be as big a bloody Knight Bus by now!"
Shacklebolt frowned in frustration. He wasn't happy about the team's progress either. "They're trying as hard as they can, Alastor. After three years, the Basilisk should be fully grown and very hard to miss."
Moody growled and snapped. "If I don't have that snake's head by nightfall, I'll have someone fired! Preferably every single one of those wet eared excuses you call Aurors!"
Shacklebolt, a relatively laid back person, focused on ways to solve the problem instead of complaining about the lack of progress. "Well, there is Blackthorn! I know he's a file clerk, but he's also a bloodhound Animagus! Maybe he can track the Basilisk by scent!"
Moody snorted in derision. "A desk jockey? You want to bring a desk jockey on a snake hunt? That thing'll kill him on sight!"
"All he needs to do is point us in the right direction. We can have the Ministry get him a Portkey so he can leave immediately if he feels he's in danger."
"Great! A Portkey! How long is that going to take?"
"Maybe a few hours. It's the best plan we've come up with so far."
Moody didn't like it, but it was a good plan. Better than wandering around like a bunch of drunks and hoping the Basilisk would pop out for a cuppa. "Fine."
VHK
As the sun was setting, Wendell and Monica Granger were sitting at the dinner table and debating on the best course of action for their daughter. Both were upset that their little song bird had returned from school beaten up again, and they were sick and tired of the private school they paid good money to teach their baby for looking the other way. Again!
"Oh Wendell, what are we going to do?" Monica's soothing soprano was muffled by her hands. "We can't keep going like this and Hermione can't either!"
Monica's husband took another sip from his scotch whiskey. He felt he needed it to maintain his temper. Unlike most men he knew, Wendell could handle his liquor and it actually made him more focused. Many who have shared a drink with Wendell claim that he had the odd ability to drink like a fish and still perform dental surgery perfectly. That isn't to say that he couldn't get drunk, but it definitely took a bit more than what is considered normal. "I don't know, darling."
Monica sat up and began squeezing and tugging one of Hermione's shirts that she had been folding. Monica knew Hermione prefered to do it herself, but no seven year old should be doing their own laundry. "Dad suggested a nice military school that would appreciate her intelligence and has no tolerance for bullies, but that doesn't mean it won't happen! And Hermione wouldn't survive military school! They'd be much too harsh on her!"
Wendell pried the shirt out of her hands and dropped it back in the pile. He took her hands in his and gazed into her eyes with what he hoped was reassurance. "We shouldn't underestimate Hermione, darling. She has your dad's blood in her veins and he is a war hero. I have no doubt that Hermione would excel in military school. You know how much she loves to hear dad's war stories. He's practically raising her in the art of war."
Monica was grateful that her father, a man that had fought World War Two and earned a Victoria Cross for going above and beyond that call of duty, had moved from Wales to live with the family after hearing about their babysitting problem. He was truly a blessing as he took Hermione's… accidents in stride and even thought her special for them instead of terrifying. One time, a storm had knocked out the power and they lit candles to go about their business. Father was reading a book on dragons to Hermione and she, a bright eyed five year old, stared at a group of candles until they became tiny, life-like dragons that were capable of flight and breathing fire. While Wendell and Monica groaned at yet another display of oddness from their offspring, grandpa Edmund just beamed at his granddaughter. "Hermione is just special. I have a feeling that our little songbird is destined for great things!"
Wendell, for one, agreed with old Ed. Their Hermione was very clever and would display it happily if her peers would stop degrading her for it. Wendell knew they were just jealous, but that didn't mend Hermione's scars or sooth her bruises or made her feel less lonely. If they were able Wendell and Monica would gladly homeschool Hermione, but they both had demanding careers that made good money. Grandpa Ed volunteered to do it, but that was a disaster waiting to happen. Monica loved her father, but had to admit that he was getting old and senile.
At this point, military school was their last hope.
Monica sniffled and leaned into her husband's comforting form. "I suppose we can give it a try. I'll call Hermione in sick tomorrow and we'll ask her opinion of it in the morning."
"Alright. Let's head up to bed. We're going to need clear heads if we're going to convince Hermione that military school is the best option." Wendell patted his wife's arm and polished off his scotch.
Unbeknownst to the Grangers, a giant snake, with magic known only to those like it, slithered out of their pipes and into their home.
The Basilisk emerged head first from the guest room toilet, regrowing to its original size on its way out, and nudged its way into Grandpa Edmund's room. With a flick of his tongue, he could see the heat signature of the body on the bed. The human was sound asleep. Vulnerable.
The Basilisk wasn't here for that, though. Much too large.
He, the snake, tried to slide past the bed unnoticed. Unfortunately, the muggle house was not built to accommodate extremely large snakes. The Basilisk's side had bumped into a lamp and sent it shattering to the floor. The human in the bed shot up and looked into the Basilisk's eyes. Edmund's last breath came out as a pained groan, attracting the attention of the married couple just outside.
Monica and Wendell were heading up the stairs when they heard the sound of breaking glass in the guest room that Edmund had taken over recently after moving in with them and his pained groan. "Dad?"
Wendell sighed and trekked back down the stairs, Monica following behind. "He must be sleepwalking again. I just hope he isn't dreaming of Annabelle. I hate to see that look on his face when he wakes up and realizes his wife's been dead for years."
"Wendell! Shame on you! It could be you one day!" Monica opened the door without knocking. "Dad, are you o…?"
Wendell and Monica died together, both looking into a Basilisk's fatal gaze at the same time. Wendell would never know the pain of losing a loved one.
But his daughter would.
Said girl had woken up in pain and was tending her wounds in the bathroom when she heard the ruckus. She knew her parents hated it when she stayed up late, but she wanted to know what had happened. She crept down the stairs, going slowly as to not alert her parents that she was up and moving. However, she abandoned her attempt at stealth when she saw the crumpled figures of her parents, laying beside and on each other. She rushed down the stairs, her tiny, sure feet expertly maneuvering the stairs. She collapsed on her knees beside their bodies and began to shake them. "Mum. Dad. What are you doing on the floor? Get up."
Not a moment later, the front door was blown open and a group stumbled in led by a rather nervous looking dog. Hermione recognized Moody and Shacklebolt immediately.
Shacklebolt recognized her as well. "Miss Granger?"
Hermione shot to her feet and backed away. Though they seemed friendly enough earlier, that did not make them good people. "What are you doing here?"
The bloodhound, to her amazement, turned into a man before her eyes and uttered the word 'magpie' and vanished into thin air. Moody's eye was twitching between her and the hallway behind her. "Lassie, I'm gonna need you to come over here."
She didn't like the men behind him. They looked rather jumpy. And she didn't trust the sticks they were holding towards her. They didn't… feel like normal sticks. "But my parents need help…"
"It's too late for your parents, girlie! The beast we told you about killed them and it will get you too if you don't get out of here!" It was too much for poor Hermione to handle. Her parents were dead and a group of strangers were declaring that a dangerous creature had killed them. What he said next would seal her fate forever. His normal eye, and the eyes of his companion's eyes, focused behind her and widened. "Get over here now!"
"NO!" Hermione turned and ran, hoping to escape out the back door. She took two steps before realizing something was blocking her way. A big, scaly something. She heard Moody command her to close her eyes, but she couldn't. Hermione was too busy staring at the giant, snake reared over her. His yellow eyes pinned her to the floor.
She couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. The terror of the incredibly large reptile before her had Hermione frozen in place. She whimpered in fear when the snake's maw opened to reveal long, sharp fangs dripping with saliva and venom.
"Don't just stand there, you imbeciles! Attack the blasted thing!"
The Basilisk chanced a look behind Hermione and knew his time was short. He unfolded his fangs from the roof of his mouth and lunged to sink them into the girl's flesh.
He only managed to scratch her before he was killed by a wave of curses directed at him from the horde of Aurors at the door.
There was a moment of silence. And then Hermione cried out and fell.
"Lassie!" Shacklebolt ran forward while Moody hobbled after him as quickly as his false leg would allow. Shacklebolt and Moody spotted the bloody scar and knew what it meant immediately. The scar and the skin around it held a sickly shimmer reminiscent of the Basilisk's fangs. The girl was poisoned and needed a mediwitch to tend her now.
Shacklebolt scooped her up in his arms while addressed his partner. "I'll take her to St. Mungo's! Clean up here and catch me up!" He spun on his heel and Apparated to the closest magical hospital. Shacklebolt knew this place well as he had come here almost every other week to stand at the bedsides of his trainees and had even been healed here once or twice himself. Shacklebolt didn't feel that sense of nostalgia as he was overwhelmed with panicked fear for the little girl writhing in agony against his torso. "Hiddleston! Get over here now!"
Mediwitches and Healers alike looked up at the usually calm Auror. A tall, lithe man with shoulder length black hair exited the office behind the desk and honed in on the female in the Wizard's arms. "What happened?!" He pulled out his wand and began casting diagnostic spells.
"Basilisk. It's fang only grazed her."
"Yeah, well, a graze is enough. I have a Basilisk victim here! I need anti-venom stat!" Mediwitches swarmed the trio and the girl was levitated out of Shacklebolt's arms and was whisked away to area's unknown. Hiddleston clasped the dark man's arm in a show of comfort. "We'll take care of her, King, but I cannot promise that she'll make it."
With that, Healer Hiddleston turned and followed after the girl.
Shacklebolt stared at the doors for several seconds, praying that the innocent muggle child would make it through the night, and left for the Ministry. He and Moody still had to give their reports.
VHK
A week had passed and things had returned to normal. As normal as a guilt-ridden Shacklebolt and unsettlingly contemplative Moody could get. Both men checked in with Hermione every morning before work and whenever they had a break, and before they went home. The poor girl was in a magic-induced coma. Hiddleston had said that they were doing the best they could for the girl, but Basilisk venom is very potent.
"It would take a miracle to help this girl. Even should we save her from the venom, the toxins have damaged her body. Even if her life is spared, she would be forever handicapped. In what way I am uncertain. I have never heard of anyone surviving a Basilisk bite. This anti-venom is relatively new. Her heart may still be beating, but I think you need to prepare yourselves for the worst."
Despite the Healer's pessimism, Shacklebolt and Moody kept their hopes up. They had seen stranger things happen. Maybe Hermione would pull through.
The Auror's were all gathered in the office to receive new cases when a wispy dolphin Patronus swam through the wall and floated in front of the best Auror's in London. "Moody, Shacklebolt, come to Mungo's at once! You're gonna want to see this!
The dolphin dissolved once its message was passed and both partners dropped their newest case files on their desks before Apparating away. They knew Scrimgeour wouldn't punish them. Not when a Healer specifically requested their presence.
Both men popped into existence in the lobby where Hiddleston sat waiting for them. The Healers and mediwitches looked nervous. Hiddleston stood up once he notice their arrival and silenced them before they could make a sound. He beckoned them to follow as he led them through the doors and down a familiar hallway. The corridor was quiet, eerily so, and empty. No Healers were walking in and out of rooms or chatting over clipboards. The tingle of magical barriers alerted the Aurors that the hall, and most likely the whole floor, was on lockdown.
Hiddleston stopped in front of door 626 and turned to address both men. "I have good news, bad news, and worse news, but I'll inform you both after you have seen our young patient. I'm sure you're both anxious to see her. Just… try not to say anything."
He opened the door before either man could question his order. They followed the Healer into the room and secured the entryway. The room was free of the potion stench that occupied every other room Mungo's had and instead smelled of berries suggesting magic use to clean and scent the air. Also unlike the usual standard of hospital room, everything was… skewed as if someone had done a rush job of straightening up. The room was clean, almost too clean, too nice, and it made the room seem… eery.
The bed, which sat in the corner, was occupied by a small waif of a girl. Who was blindfolded. Her bushy hair with curls springing every which way was secured tightly against her head above her ears and poofed out around her neck and shoulders. The top of a hospital gown could be seen clothing her torso while the rest of her from waist down was hidden by the thin but warm blanket. The girl had been listening to a Beedle the Bard book bespelled to say the words out loud, but shut the book as soon as we entered. "Hello? Dr. Hiddleston, is that you?"
The Healer approached her with a calm voice. "It's me, sweetheart. How are you feeling right now? Has the pain gone away?"
"My upper gums are still a little tingly, but I'm okay." She scrunched up her nose. "There are others in the room."
"Yes, two men who I think you've met before. Do you remember Moody and Shacklebolt? They are the ones that saved you from the Basilisk."
She nodded her head and slid the book off her lap. "I remember them."
"Good. They've been here every single day to check on you." Hiddleston turned to address the Auror's. "Try to be careful. She woke up just a few hours ago and she's in a rather delicate state. I don't want…"
Hermione did not like being referred to as delicate and snapped at the Healer. "I can hear you, idiot. And don't call me delicate! I'm perfectly fine!"
Hiddleston opened his mouth and shut it again, choosing to sit on a stool in the corner. Shacklebolt reached out to take the girl's hand while Moody watched over her, examining her with his own eyes. "You had us worried there for awhile, Miss Granger. You slept like the dead for the past week."
Her blindfold shifted as her brow rose on one side. "So I heard."
"Hermione, why don't you tell them the good news." Healer Hiddleston wore a smile on his face, but his eyes remained dim.
The girl perked up. "I found out I'm a witch today! Hiddleston said that's why I was always so different from everyone. Well, besides my intelligence. He said I will go to a magic school when I turn eleven! I'll get to learn how to cast spells and make potions! Now I can hardly wait to turn eleven! I hope I'll never have to put up with another idiot!"
Shacklebolt grinned at the news. "There are idiots everywhere you go. Even in the wizarding world."
"Especially the wizarding world." Moody grunted behind him.
Hermione giggled and yawned, and Hiddleston decided that she couldn't handle much more excitement. "Try to get some rest, Hermione. You have a busy day tomorrow."
The three men left the girl to sleep. Hiddleston led the Aurors to his office and cast privacy bubble around the room. Shacklebolt took a seat while Moody remained on his feet. "Why all the secrecy, Healer? If the girl is a witch…"
"She is a witch, but that is not the reason for our privacy." Hiddleston cut off Shacklebolt. "In just an hour or so, a team of Unspeakables will be coming to collect the girl and take her to the most secure floor of the Ministry."
Moody stiffened and scowled. "There had better be a good reason, Healer."
"It's the only choice we have. The Basilisk venom didn't kill her. It... changed her. When Hermione woke up…. I lost a mediwitch to her gaze and two others are petrified. Not only does she have the eyes of a Basilisk now, but she now has a set of retractable fangs behind her canines that are very venomous. When Hermione began to truly panic, her skin grew scales that repelled Stunners and other sorts of spells. I had to wait until she calmed down to even try speaking to her.
"Thank the gods that she is a witch. With her new… traits, she can't go back to the muggle world. She has no more family, no godparents or friends that could take her in and survive. I can't in good conscience give her to a pureblood family to care for her as she is a muggleborn and those bigots are more likely to kill than help the girl. I don't even know if she'll be able to attend Hogwarts in four years time. The Unspeakables are the only viable option, and she might just have to live the rest of her life down there with them."
Moody stamped his staff and snarled at the Healer. "That's outrageous! She's a witch! Not a bloody dark object to be studied and locked away!"
Shacklebolt, being the levelheaded diplomat, approached the situation more calmly. "Timothy, surely there is another option. What if someone were to adopt her? Someone who understands the dangers and could handle the responsibility. It wouldn't be right to seclude a bright young lady like Miss Granger into the dungeons of the Mysteries Department for the rest of her life."
Hiddleston shook his head. "It's more than just caring for her! You Know Who's followers are still out there and most not even in Azkaban. Some of them weaseled their way out of punishment and still walk among us. What do you think will happen when they find out about her? And what about the rest of the public?! You both know better than I do that the girl's Basilisk traits would cause widespread panic! They'll demand the poor girl's head on a pike! No. The best place for her is with the Unspeakables, where they can study and understand her."
"Now see here, Hiddleston!" Moody stomped his staff. "That lass has just lost her family in one night and gained deadly attributes! Yer punishing the lass for an attack that she had no control over! By all means, let the bloody Unspeakables try to cure 'er, but place her in a family and let 'er live 'er life after they've had their bloody fun!"
The Healer scoffed in derision. "Place her with who? You? You're a Hit Wizard, always on the front lines and dealing in dangerous missions. You may be able to provide the care the poor girl needs, but what will happen if you die? Where would she go then? And there's no bloody way in hell that a Pureblood family would take her. Not any I trust. I considered the Weasley family. I know Molly personally and I know she would love another daughter to care for, but placing Miss Granger amongst all those blasted children of hers, especially that little bastard called Ronald, is just asking for trouble."
"Let him take her."
Hiddleston and Moody turned at the same time. "What?"
Shacklebolt was sitting calmly in his seat. "Let Moody care for her. I know for a fact that he has been considering retiring from the field work and taking over Auror training. My partner is probably the most paranoid man I've ever met and will provide the best environment for Miss Granger to grow."
Timothy Hiddleston slumped in his seat and rubbed his eyes as if to stave off the mother of all headaches. "Forgive me for saying that Moody does not come off as a proper father figure. Especially to an orphaned girl with a literal killer glare."
"He can do it. I've had the pleasure of meeting the girl before the attack, if only briefly, and I know she is a lot stronger than you think. The last thing she needs is some stranger coddling her. I honestly think that Miss Granger would thrive under Moody's care."
The Healer groaned into his hands and let his hand drop to his lap. He looked up at Moody with a calculating gaze. "Are you willing to take responsibility for Hermione Sylvia Granger? This includes any accidents that may occur by her gaze or fangs."
"Yeah, I'll take care of the lass." Moody grunted unceremoniously.
Timothy Hiddleston sighed and pulled a stack of papers out of a drawer in his desk. Blazoned at the top of the page was the title Request for Adoption. "Might as well fill this out now so that you won't have to wait while the Ministry takes it's sweet time processing it. By the the time the Unspeakables are okay with sending her out into the world, you'll hopefully have full custody of her."
Shacklebolt conjured a quill and ink pot. "The paperwork must remain under the tightest security in the Mystery Departments vaults. No one must know about the girl."
Hiddleston allowed himself a smirk. "Not even the Gods will get past those wards."
VHK
It took three months for the Unspeakables to determine that there was no cure for poor Hermione Sylvia Moody. The best they could provide was a specially made goblin circlet that couldn't be removed by hand or spell unless Hermione willed it so and a pair of specially made goggles that would protect Alastor from her gaze should he ever wish to check on them. To see if the eyes affects were fading, but they didn't appear very hopeful.
Hermione was released into Moody's custody and she felt… hopeful. True she had months to mourn her family's death, and she would always miss them. Moody, Uncle Alastor as she would learn to call him, wasn't trying to take their place and was gracious enough to open his home to her. Hermione had found out through various tests just how dangerous her gaze could be. She knew that anyone else would have turned her away if they had known, but Moody knew and was willing to look past it and take care of her.
Over their first dinner together, Moody explained how Hermione's life would be from then on. He would teach her how to move, how to fight, how to cast the strongest and most complicated of spells so that she could protect herself. When the time came for her to attend Hogwarts, she would don her circlet and play her role. Her cover was simple and easy to stick to; her parents, extended family to Alastor, had a potions accident that left her blinded and scarred. She will act as if the scar was hideous and hid it from the world so that it wouldn't frighten people away. Her parent's names were Alexander and Morgana Moody. Should anyone, specifically those who had known them despite them being Aurors for the French Ministry, she could claim their memories made her sad and no one would push her. Alastor would teach her Occlumency and Legilimency so that no one could read the truth in her mind and so she could hear their doubts and sooth them.
Moody planned to groom her as a perfect Auror, for even though she could not see in the normal sense, she discovered that she could 'see' magic and heat signatures. This, Moody found, made her irreplaceable as she could see a person under a Disillusionment Charm and could 'see' the runes that made up a ward, therefore making it easier for her to take it down or change it completely.
Yes, Hermione Sylvia Moody would do just fine.
