Chapter 2


"Hermione? Dear, are you alright?", she heard a voice penetrate the fog in her mind. "Hermione?"

She groaned quietly and her eyes fluttered closed as she felt a soft hand cup her cheek and wipe away a tear she couldn't remember she had even cried. Hermione slowly opened her eyes again and came face to face with a woman sitting in front of her. She had black hair, fair skin and kind grey eyes that shone with concern and love.

"Um, yes, I'm fine, M- um", Hermione said quickly.

Maybe a little too quickly. She had almost called her 'Mrs. Potter'.

"I don't believe you", her Mum said softly.

Hermione sighed. It was probably best to be honest here. Or, as honest as she could be, considering her circumstances.

"You're right, Mum. I'm not, and I don't think I will be for some time. Can we not talk about it, please?"

Her Mum nodded.

"As you wish, dear. But please know that I will always be there for you, if you do want somebody to talk to."

Hermione smiled.

"Thank you."

Mrs.- Mum moved so she was sitting beside her daughter and put her right arm over her shoulders. She didn't want to lean into the embrace, mainly because it was making her feel weak, but she had convinced herself that it was because she hardly knew this woman. Still, she didn't have the energy left to resist, and she accepted the warmth and the comfort her mother provided.

Once again, the tears began to fall, making her headache even worse, but Hermione didn't care. She was hugging her Mum, and she was hugging her back, and all the emotions that she had thought she had gotten out of her system welled up and swallowed her. The only thing she could do was hold onto the body beside her, and sobbing her heard out.

She didn't even notice the kind and encouraging words her mother whispered in her ear, nor how she was stroking her back and hair. The only thing Hermione registered was the pounding in her head, and the overwhelming feelings that tore through her, ready to split her apart, and the only outlet that she had was crying.

She was tired, completely exhausted really, and slowly but surely her sobs became smaller, and she was hiccoughing and sniffling, calmed down at least a bit for the time being. She wanted to get up, and clean herself up, and bury everything from her past six feet under, never to see the light of day again, and move on with what now was her life.

But she couldn't.

The comforting arms of her Mum, who was still whispering in her ear, telling her it would be alright, and stroking her back like her Mum – Emma Granger – used to made her feel safe. It made her feel loved, and it made her stay there.

Her breathing became more even with every breath she took, as the soaked in the warmth, both physical and emotional, that she was provided with. It took her back to the times in elementary school, when she would cry so hard because of how the other kids treated her, and her Mum would come and comfort her just like Mrs. Potter – her Mum, she reminded herself – did now.

Back to before she had alienated her parents more and more because of magic, and because of all the stuff she faced that she wouldn't tell them about, for fear of them forbidding her to go back to Hogwarts. It took her back to when she had, despite everything that was wrong in her life, felt truly loved by her parents.

Her Mum. And that was why, she told herself, she relaxed more and more into the arms of a woman that she didn't truly know, had never really talked to and knew nothing about, and finally fell into a light sleep


"Miss Hermione!", a squeaky voice registered in her mind. "You is needing to wake up."

Hermione slowly rolled over, her whole body was aching. The worst was her head. It was pounding so badly it sent black hazes over her vision. She was almost glad for it, as it more or less blocked out the light that came in through her window.

"Why?", she asked, her voice croaky because of how dry her throat was.

All that crying had made her dehydrated, she desperately needed to drink something. Water, preferably.

"You is needing to take your potions, Miss", the voice said again.

It took her a while, but with some concentration Hermione's surroundings became sharper, and she saw the head of a little house elf that just reached over her bed. Hermione groaned again.

"Can I have some water first?", she asked.

"Of course, Miss Hermione", the house elf said. "Tildy will be back momentarily", she added before popping away.

So, that was Tildy. Hermione wasn't sure, but she thought she might have been the same house elf that had taken her and her stuff to her room. The memories were fuzzy, though. Before she could further think about the matter, however, the elf was already back with a glass of water.

"Thanks", Hermione croaked, before emptying it in one go.

Immediately, it refilled, and gladly Hermione drank until she felt like her stomach was a balloon filled with water, only waiting to burst. Only then took she the time to admire the glass, that was decorated by an ornate flower pattern that reflected the light beautifully.

"Thank you, Tildy", she repeated, and laid down on the bed again.

The glass she had conjured only hours ago had already disintegrated, she noticed.

"Miss Hermione needs to take her potions now", Tildy said insistently.

"Fine", Hermione sighed.

She didn't think she would be poisoned. And she didn't have the energy to argue anything. Tildy gave her one vial after the other, five overall, and they all tasted disgusting. Normally, that wouldn't even be worth a footnote – everyone knew potions weren't exactly tasty – but combined with her blinding headache – quite literally, as the black pulses in her vision still hadn't subsided – it lead to a severe case of nausea.

That Hermione quickly sat up on the bed once she noticed didn't exactly help in that department, though.

"Shit!", she exclaimed, and that was also the only warning Tildy got before all the potions and the water made their way back up and landed all over Hermione, who held up her hands to do at least a bit of damage control, and the bed, as the hands weren't really effective.

"Oh no, Miss Hermione!", Tildy cried. "Are you all right?"

Hermione coughed.

"Do I look like I'm alright?", she asked, sounding tired.

"No, of course not!", Tildy cried. "Tildy is sorry! Tildy is a bad elf, asking stupid questions when her Mistress is sick!"

And Tildy started crying for real, thick tears falling out of her big eyes, and sobs shaking her whole body.

"No, Tildy!", Hermione said. "That's not how I meant it! You're a great house elf, really! You were worried, and you asked the first question anyone would ask! It's alright!"

Tildy stopped crying rather abruptly.

"You is meaning that? Tildy is not a bad elf?"

Hermione nodded.

"Yes, I mean that. You're a great elf, Tildy."

Hermione wished she could comfort the little elf, but her hands were still full of the reappeared mix of water and potions, as was her bed, and she didn't think Tildy would appreciate being coated in that. Speaking of...

"Tildy, can you perhaps clean this up?", Hermione asked gently.

She hoped that maybe giving her a task she could perform without problems would assure her that she really was a good elf. Granted, Hermione didn't know her, but she liked her already, and she didn't think there truly were any bad elves.

Unfortunately, that was apparently the wrong thing to say, as Tildy began crying again, calmer than before, though.

"Tildy is sorry, but Tildy cannot", she said in a sad voice, disappointed in herself.

Tears were falling from her big, unblinking eyes once again.

"Tildy had not yet learned."

So Tildy was a young house elf? Suddenly, Hermione felt sorry for the little elf. She probably was still a child, and maybe this was one of the first real tasks she had been given. And she, Hermione, had to screw that up for her, just by being. Now that she paid closer attention, Hermione could swear Tildy was at least a foot smaller than Dobby and Kreacher had been. Subconsciously she had justified that with the elf being female, but even Winky had been taller.

Hermione wanted to help, and she wanted to make Tildy feel better. It wasn't fair if she was going to put herself down, maybe for her whole life, because of circumstances she couldn't control. It wasn't her fault.

"Can you bring me a towel, then?", Hermione asked.

As Tildy had already gotten a glass of water for her, she supposed a towel wouldn't pose a problem. Tildy only nodded and popped away, only to show up several seconds later with small blue towel, that had the same flower pattern as the glass on it.

"Thank you", Hermione said, smiling.

"Please stay", she then added.

She didn't want Tildy to go just yet. There was still confidence that needed building. Hermione dried her hands with the towel, and then took her wand and vanished the whole mess. Luckily, her magic didn't act out.

"Can you bring me to the bathroom?", she asked, and already regretted having done so, as Tildy started crying again.

"Tildy cannot", she said, almost resigned.

"Well, that's no problem", Hermione answered, as cheerfully as she could. "You can lead the way."

And,Tildy would have to do so, as Hermione had no idea where the bathroom even was. The elf started to protest, but Hermione didn't let her get very far.

"Please", she requested softly. "For me."

And Tildy only nodded and walked out the door. Hermione followed her down a long corridor, on the walls were pictures of different landscapes and they entered the second to last door on the left. Hermione was relieved there weren't any talking portraits on the wall. She had no desire whatsoever to talk to some long dead person that may or may not be her ancestor right now.

"Tildy will let in a bath for Miss Hermione, if that is alright?", Tildy practically asked, her voice small and unsure.

"That would be great, thank you Tildy", Hermione said and smiled at the elf.

Tildy shyly smiled back, which caused Hermione's smile to widen, and started filling the bathtub with water. It wasn't as impressive as the one in the Prefect's Bathroom at Hogwarts size-wise and it didn't have as many different bubbles and scented waters, but visually, it was a lot more appealing.

It was decorated with a similar ornate flower pattern as the glass and towel, made out of white marble, and it looked like the flowers and swirls were growing from the base of the tub upwards. It was simply beautiful. The rest of the bathroom was designed similarly. There were two sinks designed in the same fashion, one tall mirror, two cupboards, and a dresser.

Also, there was a shower in the corner and the floor was laid out with a fluffy lavender coloured carpet. Were this a muggle house, Hermione would never stand for a carpet in the bathroom – just think about all the bacteria that would be caught in there! –, but as she was at Potter Manor, she almost wasn't surprised.

There was magic, right?

The scent of honey and almond penetrated her senses, and the flowing of water stopped.

"Tildy is finished", the little elf said. Hermione smiled at her. "Thank you, Tildy. And please, before you go, remember what I said. Its alright. It's not your fault you're still young and learning. Please don't put yourself down. Without you, I couldn't have managed today."

Tildy's eyes were glistening with tears again, but this time they were happy tears.

"Thank you, Miss Hermione. You are too kind. Tildy doesn't deserve your kindness", she said, and popped away.

Hermione sighed. She didn't want Tildy to think she was only being kind out of pity, or that she didn't deserve it, but there was nothing to be done now.

Slowly, she undressed. It had been a long time since she last enjoyed a good, long bath. And with her headache still very much there, she hoped that maybe the hot water would help her relax and make it better. She didn't dare asking for a potion, now more than ever. She didn't want to throw up again, thank you very much.

Her clothes were thankfully clean, her spell had worked like I should, after all, and once she was completely naked, her clothes lying on the carpet, she noticed how cold it was in the bathroom. She stepped forward, slowly, and put her hand in the water to test the temperature.

It was perfect. Warm, but not too hot and also not lukewarm. The almond and honey scent made her feel sleepy, even more tired than she was before, and fogged her brain.

For a moment she wondered if maybe there was some kind of drug in there and she should just run away as fast as she could, but she just didn't want to. The bath was just too inviting, with its warmth and the promise of relaxation. So, one foot after the other, she climbed into the tub and let herself immerse into the water.

It didn't quite burn her skin, and she greedily soaked up the warmth, her hair floating around her head. When the need to breathe became too great, Hermione emerged from the water and settled onto the bench that was chiselled into one part of the brim. Leaning back her head, she breathed in the air, still laced with that honey and almond aroma, and finally started to relax.

Her headache was still pounding, but sitting in the water, surrounded by warmth, closing her eyes and letting herself go into that fog of honey and almond, she almost managed to forget. For once, her thoughts were not falling over themselves, cutting each other off and swirling at the back of her head, only waiting to overwhelm her.

Despite everything, Hermione really, truly relaxed for the first time she could remember, and for the third time that day, she fell asleep.


When she opened her eyes, Hermione felt a lot better. The light falling into her room and bed through her window didn't cause her pain, and moving, while still quite exhausting, didn't hurt either. She was still thirsty, however.

On her night stand was the ornate glass from the day before, filled with water. Hermione took it, and emptied it several times, as it was refilling automatically. Contrary to the day before, she now was awake enough to be intrigued at that. It must be the same principle that automatically refilled the goblets in the Great Hall with pumpkin juice, but at the when she was at the castle she had never figured out the mystery of how it worked.

True, most times there were other – more important – things on her mind, but she was not going to let this opportunity go to waste. The glass was clear, and so she easily spotted, once she started to closer inspect it, a small rune engraved into its bottom. Or rather, a bubble of air, expertly shaped, probably magically, into the form of laguz or laukaz, the Elder Futhark symbol for 'water' or 'lake'.

It was clever.

However, there was no way this was the only thing magical about this glass. Hermione would bet her li-, well, maybe not her life, but a lot, that this rune was merely the anchor for another set of very complex charms and enchantments. She had looked into Enchanting, sure, and she had always been good at Charms, like at all other subjects except Divination and Flying, and she knew that to unravel how the whole mechanism worked it would take her at least several days.

And she knew herself well enough to admit that this wouldn't be sufficient for her. She would want to be able to replicate it, just out of principle. So, a project best put off a little, at least until after breakfast.

A quick, wandless charm later, and Hermione knew it was already ten in the morning. There was no doubt she had needed the sleep, but for someone who was usually up at seven it felt like she had just wasted a lot of time. Sitting up from her bed, she noticed that someone must have changed the sheets, as they were a light blue now, contrary to the rose colour they had the day before.

Wait, bed?

Hermione couldn't remember returning to her bed. She tried reconstructing the events of the last day, but the last thing she knew was Tildy departing and her going into the tub, finally relaxing. Someone must have taken her back. And although Hermione was grateful to whomever it had been, as she didn't exactly fancy drowning in her sleep, she was also ashamed.

Once again it came back to her consciousness that she was a foreigner here. She didn't belong. And while all the others didn't know that – how could they? – Hermione did. And for her that meant that someone stranger had just seen her naked last night. She could only hope it had been M- Mum or Tildy, and not someone else she had never even set eyes on. She couldn't imagine Mr- Dad going into her bathroom, and neither did she think James would dare.

If he even lived in the Manor still, and hadn't already moved to Godric's Hollow with Lily. She really had to find out the date.

As she stood up and went to her closet to change from the nightie she had been dressed in – short, long-sleeved and dark blue – into something more appropriate, she realized that she had no idea where she would even get something to eat. The manor was big, and she had never been there before.

"Looking good today", the mirror commented, and letting her eyes roam over her image in the mirror, Hermione couldn't help but agree.

Her hair wasn't a bird's nest anymore, instead it formed more defined curls than it ever had in her entire life. The bags under her eyes were still there, just not as noticeable as the night before, and her skin had started to get back what one could call a healthy glow. She thought that maybe her skin was lighter that it used to be, her hair a bit darker, and she didn't have those tiny freckles anymore, but overall, she looked good.

She was a little skinnier than before, but that was probably because she hadn't properly eaten in quite a long time. Who knew how long she had been lying unconscious in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts.

For her outfit, Hermione picked jeans once again, black ones this time, and a dark violet, long-sleeved t-shirt with a quite deep v-neck. Normally, Hermione thought, it might have been just a tad too deep for comfort, but she was feeling great, and she didn't want her mood to be ruined by such a small detail.

Oh, that reminded her. She really wanted to take the time and explore these other two doors of her closet, or rather, what was behind them. But, not now. Now, she had to get down to breakfast. Only, how? Would it be better to just blindly go for it, and when she got lost, call for Tildy? Wouldn't it be weird for her to get lost in her own house?

On the other hand, calling for Tildy now posed exactly the same problem, just a bit different. This was her home. Why would she not know her way? Absently twirling her wand between her fingers, Hermione pondered her options. For which one could she find the more plausible excuse? And, which would be better in the long run?

She could ask Tildy to pop her down today, saying she wasn't feeling up to walking, but then she still wouldn't know the way, would she? And then, she would be in the same dilemma tomorrow. So, that option was out. Also, Hermione just remembered that Tildy was still young, and the day before, could not pop her to the bathroom. So, that option was out anyways.

She could ask for an escort though. No, that wouldn't work either. So, what else? It took her a few minutes, but suddenly there was a single thought in her head that made her stop.

Why would an escort not work? Isn't that exactly what I need? Someone to show me the way, without it being obvious that I don't know where I'm going?

She felt like hitting herself on the head, repeatedly. Why had she discarded that thought? Oh, well. The grumbling of her stomach reminded her to not overthink it and just get a move on already.

"Tildy?", Hermione asked.

"Yes, Miss Hermione?", she heard a squeaky voice. "How can Tildy serve you?"

Hermione looked down at the little elf, smiling. Doing that, she caught sight of something else, however. Why, and more importantly how am I twirling my wand? I can't do that, at least not without dropping it. And promptly, Hermione's wand fell on the floor, right in front of Tildy. The little house elf took it and extended it towards Hermione, handle first, before she could move to pick it up herself.

"Thank you, Tildy", she said. "Now, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to escort me to breakfast?" Tildy nodded.

"Of course, Miss Hermione, Tildy will gladly escort you. May Tildy ask why Miss Hermione wishes for her company?"

"Sure. I just wanted to make sure you didn't feel bad after yesterday. And I just wanted to talk to you."

"What an honour, Miss", Tildy exclaimed. "Tildy will lead the way!"

And with that the little house elf walked out the door, Hermione following just half a pace behind so it wasn't obvious she didn't know where she was going, and they talked.


By the time they arrived in the Dining Room, Hermione and Tildy had gone down several staircases, passed portraits of various ancestors of the Potter Family, and made more turns than Hermione could remember. So much for her plan.

At least, or so she supposed, she could now use the Four-Point-Spell to find her way back, as she had already been there once. But even if she had to have Tildy accompany her everywhere she went for a few days, it wouldn't be a bad thing at all. Talking to Tildy had proven one of best decisions she had made so far. The little elf was adorable, and once you got her chatting, she happily carried on the conversation.

Like that, Hermione found out that Tildy was three years old, daughter of Misty and Julius, two of the three Potter elves, the third being Frederick, and had been working in the household since the start of the summer holidays, while at the same time learning. Normally, she wouldn't have to yet, but as Frederick was quite old, she would have to be ready to take his place once he passed.

Tildy told her also that her mother was responsible for the cooking, her father for the gardens, and Frederick for the family themselves. Tildy's favourite colour was green, and she enjoyed telling and listening to stories.

Which kind of explained her talk-activity, or so Hermione thought. Besides that, Hermione also managed to filter some 'important' information. The quotation marks were imperative here, as she would never insult Tildy by thinking of her life as irrelevant.

Hermione's brother, James, was younger than her, what she had caught of Tildy referencing him as 'young Master James', her father was mainly managing the House of Potter, and was therefore very politically active. Her mother was officially staying at home to take care of James, but unofficially worked part-time at a shop in Knockturn Alley that sold enchanted items.

Hermione had to admit, she was intrigued.

She had only ever seen Knockturn Alley once, and she hadn't been very impressed by what she saw. For her mother, a woman from a prominent, not to mention wealthy pureblood family to hold a job there, she really would like to visit that place.

Hermione herself contributed only little to the conversation. She didn't want to say anything wrong, and Tildy was talking so much it more than made up for it. Now, however, they had arrived at the Dining Hall, only two wooden doors that had ornaments carved into them that looked like vines growing up from the ground, separated Hermione and her breakfast.

"We are there, Miss Hermione", Tildy said, and Hermione was glad she was still young enough to not realize that Hermione theoretically would have known that already, if only because she didn't want the little elf to put herself down again, like she did the day before.

"Thank you, Tildy", Hermione replied. "I enjoyed talking to you."

And she meant it.

"Tildy will be going, now. It would be improper for Tildy to enter the Dining Room with Miss Hermione."

"Will you be walking with me tomorrow morning as well?", Hermione asked. "If you don't have anything else to do that is more important, that is."

"Tildy would love to!", the little elf exclaimed and without warning hugged Hermione's legs, hard.

"If we don't see each other sooner, until tomorrow", Hermione said after Tildy had let go of her legs again and was now looking at her with a bright grin.

At hearing these words, her grin momentarily widened and her eyes began to sparkle, but before Hermione could be sure if there really were happy tears in the little elf's eyes, Tildy had already disappeared.

And that left her right in front of these imposing doors, alone. But before any more nervousness could take hold, Hermione straightened her back, held her head high, and pushed the doors before her open.

-oOoOo-

The Dining Hall was bright in colours – white, cream and other pastels – and followed the flower theme that seemingly was predominant in the whole Manor. The sun was shining in through the tall arched windows, that – surprise! – were decorated with an ornate flower pattern at the sides that framed the glass.

Hermione had expected there to be a huge table, and many unnecessary chairs, but instead there was a round table that was filled with various foods – cereal, bread, jams, fruit, cake and more. And at that table sat Charlus Potter.

Her father, she reminded herself.

There were four chairs at the table, one of them occupied by her father, reading the Daily Prophet, two of them entirely empty, and one of them, the one across from Dad, had a set of plates and cutlery laid out before it. It seemed like Mum and James had already eaten. Hermione went to sit down on her chair, as her father spoke.

"Good morning, Hermione. Are you feeling better?"

She nodded.

"Yes, I am."

"I'm glad to hear that", he answered, and then went back to reading the newspaper.

On the one hand, Hermione was a little disappointed, she would have liked to talk more with the man who was her father now, but on the other hand, she was also relieved. No talking meant no chance of screwing anything up.

So she just started taking a slice of bread and some strawberry jam and began to eat. While she was enjoying her breakfast, her thoughts started to wander. She wondered about what her life as Hermione Potter had been like, and if she maybe could gain her memory back. Then, she wondered if perhaps, she was getting that already, at least kind of.

She had noticed how familiar everything had seemed, and how, although she sometimes still had to remind herself to call Mr. and Mrs. Potter Mum and Dad, the evening before, when she had been crying in her mother's arms, she had instinctively felt safe, and also, thought of her as Mum. She wondered about her friends, about Hogwarts, and about James.

What he was like, how old he was.

And, first and foremost, she wondered if Hermione Potter, elder sister of James Potter, had existed in her 'old' timeline as well, and if yes, what had happened to her to not be able to take Harry in. Probably she had died, but Harry had never even known of her existence, or if he had, he had never told her about it.

Hermione ate slowly, she didn't want to be sick again, and once she had finished her slice of bread she realized she wasn't hungry anymore. So she set down her hands beside her plate, and before she had time to wonder what to do now, her whole table setting just vanished – courtesy of Misty, she supposed – and her father was addressing her again.

"Hermione, dear, there is something I have to ask you."

Well, if that didn't sound promising.

"Yes?"

"Do you remember what happened before you fell unconscious?"

Shit! Hermione could only hope that the reason her father – Dad – asked was because there were no other witnesses. If she had to corroborate a story, there were bound to be problems. So, careful.

"Well, I was up quite early, as I haven't been sleeping well, and so I decided to go outside."

True, so far. Not her fault if her Dad decided to put it into another context.

"And-"

Should she mention the pull she had felt? She didn't have an explanation for it, and she didn't want her father to inquire further, lest her story fell apart. So, no, she would have to leave it out.

"And then, I was hovering over the Black Lake, I don't know how I got there, ant then..."

"Yes?", he gently prodded.

"Then, I dropped."

Her voice had become quiet and small, like a little girl's.

"I'm sorry I have to ask, but do you remember anything after that?"

"No", she said.

She didn't think that all her injuries, injuries she didn't even have now, flaring up with pain was something she could safely tell. And that the water was cold wasn't something new. So yes, she told her consciousness, it had been right to leave these things out.

"Why do you ask?", Hermione said.

Her Dad sighed.

"I have gotten a letter, almost two weeks ago. From Lord Arcturus Black."

"What does that have to do with me?", Hermione asked.

She had only heard little about this man. He was Sirius' grandfather, whom he had not exactly been fond of, like practically his whole family.

"As you know, he holds the position of Head of the House of Black. He claims his niece, Andromeda Black, has saved your life and now wants to formally call in a life debt."

Wasn't Andromeda Nymphadora Tonks' mother? Sister of Bellatrix and Narcissa, burned off the family tree for eloping with a muggle born?

"Why formally?", Hermione asked.

She had read up a little about life debts once she found out Snape had owed one to James, and as she had understood it, life debts just existed, they didn't have to be called in to be valid.

"I can only guess, my dear, but I think he has his own reasons for that."

Great answer! Not. Hermione sighed. She didn't know how far her knowledge about life debts was supposed to reach, and therefore she wasn't sure if she could ask more details about the workings of a life debt without blowing her cover. Which wasn't really a cover at all, but the point still stood.

"My my, do I see a confused look on my daughter's face there?", her Dad asked, and laughed. "How long it has been since I last saw that!"

Hermione scowled. Oh, how she hated not understanding!

"I will explain it to you, then."

"Thank you", Hermione said.

"Life debts don't need to be called in, they just exist. The thing is, they only exist between the two parties involved, the saviour and the saved. If one of them dies, the debt can still be recovered by the other one to immediate family of the one that died, but once they are both dead, the debt dies with them."

So far, Hermione followed. It was merely a refresher of what she had read at Hogwarts about five years ago.

"That is the reason why oftentimes, such debts remain unfulfilled. They don't need to be called in, and therefore the parties are not even aware such a debt exists between them, at least most times."

Hermione nodded.

"I know that. But, what does this 'formally' do?"

"Ah, now I understand your confusion", Charlus laughed. "Formalizing a life debt is something that has been done less and less over the years. It involves both parties acknowledging the debt and transfer it from themselves to the House. When that process is complete, only the Head of House can call in the debt, and it is passed on in the family, until it is fulfilled. I believe Arcturus wants to make sure the debt does not go to waste, as it is in his favour."

Biting her lip, Hermione nodded.

"I think I understand. What else is in the letter?"

"He requests the Formalizing to take place as soon as possible, preferably the moment you regain consciousness."

"I hear a 'but' there", Hermione smiled.

"True. You have been in a coma because of magical exhaustion. I do believe that transferring this debt will be taxing for you. So, I want to go tomorrow at the earliest. You need some time to recover. I don't want you to spend the rest of your holidays lying in bed."

"I don't want that either, Dad. Thank you."

Hermione gladly went into his outstretched arms, taking comfort in her father's hug.

"No problem, dear", he whispered in her ear.

As Hermione turned around to leave, her eyes caught the date on the Daily Prophet.

12 July 1967.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she started coughing to not choke on her saliva.

"Are you alright?", she heard the concerned voice of her Dad, and she could only nod.

Seeing that date in black and white, printed on the newspaper drove it home to her in a way that nothing else had managed to do so far. This was real! Not a dream, and not a fragment of her imagination running wild.

This was her reality now, and she had no idea how she could possibly adapt.


I hope this chapter answers at least some of the questions I know have been flying around. Kudos to those who guessed Andromeda right, if in the reviews or only in your heads.

If you want to review, it would be very much appreciated and make me a happy person :)