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Chapter 3

A Father's Secret

Two things crossed my mind simultaneously: my father knew who Hermione was, and Hermione was scared of him. The later didn't surprise me one bit, my father is just an intimidating person, but what I wanted to know was how the former was possible.

"Mrs. Weasley now," Hermione cautiously answered standing up to adjust her skirt. "And I assure you Mr. Anderson I have no foul intentions."

"So you didn't intend to break out little contract?" my father growled stepping closer. "Because you know very well what the consequences of that would be."

Contract? What contract was he talking about? How did my dad know Hermione freaking Weasley? AND WHY DIDN'T HE EVER TELL ME SHE WAS REAL?

"I'm sorry, sir," Mrs. Weasley cautioned looking him in the eye. "But the circumstances have changed. The contract clearly stated…"

"I don't care what the contract said, Mrs. Weasley," he grimly answered sending shivers down my spine. He wasn't yelling, no my dad never yelled, but this, this voice, was a whole lot worse. "Rosalee is only 16 years old and therefore under my protection. I, as her legal guardian, refuse to let my daughter be involved in whatever crazy program your kind has drawn up now."

My dad's been training me for years. He's been training me to be terrified for years, but training only breaks nature so much. "You knew about magic," I spit out. "You knew I had magic?"

"Please Rosalee," he answered patronizingly. "Why don't you go up to your room and we can discuss this later after Mrs. Weasley leaves."

"I'm not going to my room!" I was 16 years old; he needed to stop treating me like a child. "Did you or did you not know I was a witch?"

The disdain in his eyes told me a lot more than my father's answer, "Don't use that term and associate yourself with them. You are not a witch Rosalee."

"But you don't deny I have magic?"

I wanted to smack my father's hand as he waved it nonchalantly through the air, "Slight seer abilities, not even real magic."

"Mr. Anderson," Hermione's interruption startled me because in my anger I'd forgotten her. "That did seem to be the original case, but recent events have led us to believe that Rosalee's abilities go far beyond her dreams. Wizarding law requires…"

"I don't care what your law says! Rosalee will not be leaving home and she will not be trained to use magic."

"What do you mean seer abilities?" I screamed shattering every mirror in the house. (And considering my dad's vanity that's a high number.) Mrs. Weasley and my dad stopped arguing to look at me as I spoke calmly, "Would someone care to explain to me what the Hell is going on."

"Don't swear," my father chastised quickly. "It's unbecoming of a lady."

Swearing was unbecoming of a lady? I could show him unbecoming… "Mr. Anderson, you're a powerful person, and I understand that, but this is just proof that Rosalee is a powerful witch. Last spring she unlocked a part of herself that is now out of control." Hermione calmly explained while pulling out her wand and muttering, "Reparo."

Instantly the mirrors flew back together, but I didn't give myself time to ogle. I wasn't doing anything until someone gave me answers. "How did you know about magic?"

"I'm the richest person in the country, Rosalee," my Father dryly replied his eyes not wavering from Mrs. Weasley's wand. "There are things I know that even the queen doesn't. Mrs. Weasley approached me years ago when you started bragging to your classmates about prophetic dreams. I thought you were kidding, but the Ministry thought it might be more."

Dreams. Why hadn't I thought of it before? My constant sense of déjà vu, the feeling that I knew what people would say next, knowing what people would say yes…they were all just precursors to this. Signs that I had magic. And not just any magic-divination. The most useless and weirdest ability out there, and I had it.

"If your father had just let us you could have been enrolled in Hogwarts like any other student," Mrs. Weasley interjected giving my dad a hard glare. "He didn't like the idea and instead made the Minster of Magic himself sign a contract designed to keep you ignorant. We may be magical, but money seems to be the only power that matters."

My father smiled; he always had called our fortune his magic touch. "And here you are in blatant breach of that contract."

"Article 3B of the Muggleborn act of '99 states that any muggleborn whose abilities risk exposure of the magic community or threat to the life of muggles is to be enrolled in a training program with no exceptions," Hermione recited a small grin lining her cheeks. "The first line of your contract stated that any laws magical or otherwise superseded your agreement. I am perfectly within my right to be her, Mr. Anderson, but you are not within yours to keep your daughter from going."

My Father looked ready to pummel the woman when he spoke, "I am not a wizard. I don't have to follow your laws."

"But your daughter is a witch and therefore does," Hermione rebutted with a wink in my direction. "The punishment for her would be most sever and include exile from the magical community."

"That's exactly what I want then."

"But do you want your daughter exiled if that would mean she could have no contact with any wizards, and yes this includes business transactions Mr. Anderson." Wow. J.K. Rowling didn't do Hermione justice; this woman was brilliant. "You wish for your daughter to take over Anderson Enterprises, am I correct? It would be quite detrimental if a large portion of your clientele were not allowed legally to work with your successor."

That shut my dad right up. His only dream (besides my marrying Prince George which is just creepy because he's way younger than me) is for me to run Anderson Enterprises. He's spent my whole life training me to do so, and he wouldn't risk that for anything. "Fine then," he grumbled. "Rosalee can attend this program."

Oh. My. God-I was going to Hogwarts.