Chapter 3: Victim

A/N: Sorry for the long delay, life tends to get in the way and I've (frankly) been much too lazy. New year's resolution: write more!

Please note that Delphinism is not a real thing, it's something I'm making up as I go along.

Just a warning, there's a boatload of angst ahead. They're teenagers, and this is moody OOTP Harry (who I remember just hating the first time around). Everything will get better, but things are pretty heavy right now.

I'm making an effort to write longer chapters - let me know what you think!


"Honestly mate, she's been a nightmare," Ron said as he led Harry up to their shared room. Harry nodded, too lost in thought to muster a verbal reply. There was too much on his mind, between the Ministry hearing and Voldemort's return at the end of the last school year, for him to even acknowledge the palpable tension between Ron and Hermione.

Bet they'll be dating before the year is out, he thought glumly as he settled his trunk at the foot of his bed. His two best friends had always had a love/hate thing going on, and everyone else seemed certain they were bound to be one of Gryffindor's great love stories (much like Harry's parents). Harry went along with the crowd's opinion, although those assumptions unsettled him on some level – what did he know, after all? It's not like anyone had ever told him they loved him, at least not in his memory. Maybe the bickering and harsh words were what love was supposed to look like, and his half-formed dreams of support and laughter were just that – dreams.

"All she does is read in the library or talk to Sirius and Professor Lupin and Tonks. Don't even know rightly what they talk about... probably something boring, like history of magic or some such. I can't even get Sirius to talk Quidditch with me anymore!"

"Yeah," Harry said absentmindedly, sweeping his eyes around the dusty room. Where did all the dust in this place come from? To hear Ron talk, you'd think all they had done for the last two months was clean, clean, if Harry had spent the last two months of holidays doing the same thing under Aunt Petunia's baleful eye, he would have liked the company.

Harry sat on the bed, staring into space, wondering what he was supposed to do about the Ministry hearing. It seemed like only yesterday that Cornelius Fudge was greeting him at the Leaky Cauldron after the Blowing-Up-His-Own-Aunt-Debacle. Today, he was in trouble for defending his cousin from the most vile creatures to walk the earth (well, other than Voldemort). Just another example of how fickle the wizarding world could be – the experience of the Tri-wizard Tournament was still fresh in his mind. Having the entire school turn on you leaves a lasting impression, and Harry found himself hesitant to trust anyone.

Well, that wasn't true. He trusted Sirius to have his best interests at heart, even if he did sometimes get his priorities messed up, and Professor Lupin. And Hermione – she had stood by him last year, as much as she could with still trying to be friends with Ron and the rest of the school. Still, she had helped him and been there for him right before the First Task. He never told her, but the hug she gave him before going out to face the dragon was one of the few things (besides necessity and sheer pig-headedness) that compelled him to leave the Champion's tent.

That's why her behavior was so odd lately – she should have been writing him all summer, been there to greet him when he arrived at Grimmauld Place, been up here with him alongside Ron and Ginny. Harry knew from experience she would break the rules if she thought it was worth it, so the excuse that Dumbledore stopped all of them from writing didn't sound quite right to him. There was something she wasn't sharing, which worried him. He wondered if she was going to pull away from him now that he might not be returning to Hogwarts, if this was the last straw for her.

Wouldn't surprise me. After all, she'd still have Ron and Ginny and everyone else.

"That's not all she does," Ginny said quietly from the doorway. She still acted shy around Harry, but to a lesser degree than the last few years. "Tonks took her shopping yesterday, said she needed cheering up or some such, and Mum wouldn't let me go with them! Can you believe that, Harry?"

"Did you ask why?" he interrupted as Ginny geared up for a rant.

"Why what?"

"Why Hermione needed cheering up?" Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Oh Harry, that was just Mum's excuse for why I wasn't able to go. I'm sure Hermione is fine, they just wanted to keep me on the outside like always."

Harry was about to open his mouth to defend Hermione when Mrs. Weasley yelled up the stairs that supper was ready. Down in the kitchen, Hermione finally got her chance to greet Harry. If he didn't notice the bags under her eyes, or that her hug was a little tighter than even Hermione hugs normally were, well, he can be forgiven. He had a lot on his mind, after all.

"Here you go, dears," Mrs. Weasley said, handing goblets of pumpkin juice to Hermione and Harry. "Drink up now, you're both growing!"

Harry hid a grimace – pumpkin juice had never been one of his favorites. In fact, he found the wizarding preoccupation with it to be rather odd. There were so many other flavors out there that were, well, better. He was partial to lemon-lime anything when he could get it, but he sighed and drank the orange-hued beverage down as he tried to be grateful that someone cared enough to feed him at all.

Dinner progressed as normal, but Harry found himself annoyed with Hermione's silence. Usually Hermione quizzed him about his stay with his relatives within five minutes of his arrival – fussing over how they didn't feed him, noting the tears in his clothes and muttering about how she was going to sew them up at the first available opportunity. Tonight, however, she seemed as lost in thought as Harry had earlier. The kind glances sent her way by the adult non-Weasleys perplexed Harry – they were on par with the ones directed at him.

Why was everyone going out of their way to be kind to Hermione? Did they know that she was here out of obligation? Did they know that Hermione planned on abandoning Harry, like so many before her?

He resolved to get to the bottom of Hermione's issue as soon as possible.

After dinner, everyone but Mrs. Weasley retreated into the drawing room. The adults gravitated towards the couches grouped around the fireplace, and Harry pulled Hermione aside.

"Are you all right?" he asked. Hermione averted her eyes to the ground.

"Oh yes, I'm splendid," she said, in a much quieter tone than usual. Alarms rang in Harry's head.

"Really? Then why do you look like someone ran over Crookshanks with a car?" Hermione winced.

"Don't you have enough to worry about?" Hermione asked, catching Harry off-guard.

"What does that mean?"

"Well, with the Ministry and everything. I'm almost certain they can't expel you from Hogwarts, but I haven't had time to examine the case law as thoroughly as..." she trailed off when she saw Harry's glare.

"What do you care? You didn't write all summer."

"I wanted to Harry, but Dumbledore-"

"If you wanted to you would have found a way!" Without either noticing, their voices had risen and drawn the attention of everyone else.

"I tried! I wrote you six letters, and they all returned by different owls. The last one had a warning on it from Dumbledore himself!"

"Sure, whatever Hermione."

"I'm not lying, Harry!"

"Yes you are! I know you don't want to be here, you don't want to be associated with a freak like me!"

"That's not true!"

"Of course it is! So just get out of here, you know you want to!" Harry regretted his words almost immediately, as Hermione's face crumpled and she ran from the room in tears.

"What on earth has gotten into you, pup?" Sirius asked, crossing to the corner where Harry stood fuming. Professor Lupin followed. The others left as unobtrusively as possible – the twins and Tonks toward Hermione's room, Ron and Ginny back down to the kitchen to speak with their mother.

"Me? What's gotten into her?" Harry said, the words pouring from his mouth without first consulting his brain. "Hermione never lies to me. I don't-"

"She's going through a tough time now, Harry," Remus said in that placating way of his, but Harry ignored him.

"Oh, I see. I'm the one who's under investigation for saving my own bloody life, who has a Dark Lord hot on his heels, whose parents are bloody dead and Hermione is the one having a difficult time? If that were true, she'd tell me about it. And she's not telling me anything!"

"Now see here, pup," Sirius said, stepping into Harry's personal space. "I know that you're going through something difficult right now, believe me I know all about how unfair the Ministry can be, but that's no reason to drive away one of your best friends."

Harry scoffed and turned away from his godfather, crossing his arms and staring at the wall. Sirius waited for a long charged moment before snorting derisively.

"You have never been less like your father, Harry Potter," Sirius sneered.

"Padfoot!" Remus said in a warning voice. Sirius made an impatient noise and left the room, followed swiftly by the werewolf.

Harry made his way to his room and sat on the somewhat dusty bed. With a weary sigh he fell backward and stared up at the ornate ceiling, wishing he could rewind the clock and just let the Dementors take his soul.


Hermione was miserable, and all the shopping trips in the world could not ease her sadness. Her parents were not her parents, and they didn't love her enough to even pretend to care. She'd visited Gringott's with Tonks, hoping that they might have some way to test her blood to find out if her parents were magical. The imposing but polite goblin who had escorted them to a private room had given a firm 'no'.

"Without a writ from the Ministry, we cannot provide this service. The only way to obtain permission from the Ministry is if your magical guardian agrees to it, and I understand that Albus Dumbledore is a very busy man these days."

Yes, that had been an unwelcome piece of information. Headmaster Dumbledore was the de facto magical guardian for all muggle-born students, and he surely had better things to do (like run the super-secret vigilante group that stood as the last defense against a power-hungry Dark Lord).

With a sigh, Hermione had requested that half the liquid assets of the account her parents had given her be transferred to Gringott's, and that half of that be invested prudently. The goblin had bowed and assured her it would be done before Tonks hauled her to Madam Malkins to buy robes that were "not a Hogwarts uniform and twice as sexy."

Tonks' frank way of talking often caused Hermione to blush or laugh unexpectedly, which she hoped was the kind Auror's intent. Along with George and Fred, Tonks had been doing her best to ensure that Hermione enjoyed at least part of her summer. Unlike the twins, Tonks was privy to the details of Hermione's predicament. She did her best to distract her new friend with shopping and tales from her days in the Auror Academy - however, the most useful thing Tonks did that summer was take Hermione to a used bookstore down Knockturn Alley after their meeting with the goblins.

"Now, as a member of the law-keeping community I shouldn't be seen in a place like this," Tonks said as she guided Hermione towards the shady road, "so I won't be!" With that, Tonks morphed into what she told Hermione was a younger, slightly more fit copy of her mother, Andromeda Tonks neé Black.

"Why would we want to come to a place like this?" Hermione said in an undertone as the Auror guided her to The Grimoirie.

"There are other ways of determining your family line than going to Gringott's or the Ministry," Tonks replied in an equally low voice as they entered the narrow store. "Sirius recommended we look here if the goblins stonewalled us."

"What, you mean they actually could have helped us?" Hermione said, turning wide eyes on her new friend. Tonks nodded and a cynical smile spread across her face.

"With the goblins, everything is about the right price. If you were a Black or a Potter, they would have fallen all over themselves to help you find your family line. Prats."

"A Black or a Potter," Hermione said as she started to peruse the shelves. "What about a Malfoy?" The Ferret was always going on and on about how powerful his father was, Hermione was surprised that name didn't trip right off Tonks' tongue when naming influential magical families.

Tonks snorted. "Oh, Malfoys are a bit nouveau-riche-"

"At least by goblin standards," a cool voice interrupted. Hermione and Tonks spun around. "But then, that's only because we came over after William the Conqueror made these lands habitable." There, in a dingy bookshop, stood Narcissa Malfoy neé Black in all her black-laced-Dark-witch glory.

"Oh, hello Aunt Cissy," Tonks cooed as she discreetly moved Hermione behind her. "How are you these days? Killed any innocent muggles today?"

Narcissa laughed, a cultured and haughty sound. "Oh, I am so glad that your mother was removed from the family. She seems to have passed on her crass manners to her daughter. Come now, won't you introduce me to your little charge here?"

Hermione took a deep breath as she stepped out from behind Tonks. Narcissa was unlikely to leave them alone until she'd gotten her dig in at the muggle-born. Hermione did her best to not twist her hands nervously in the bottom hem of her light-weight purple button-down shirt. She took comfort in the fact that her hair was behaving today, and the bags under her eyes were less noticeable thanks to a cosmetic charm Tonks had shown her that morning.

"How do you do, Lady Malfoy?" Hermione said with a small curtsy. "I am Hermione Granger."

Narcissa's face froze, but not in the expression of distaste Hermione expected. There was almost a glimmer of... recognition?

"Of course, Draco has mentioned you several times. I hear that you are often called the brightest witch of your age? Quite the accomplishment, for a muggle-born." Hermione ground her teeth together and did not respond to the obvious bait. Narcissa smiled.

"And what, might I ask, brings an Auror and a muggle-born to this particular section of the world where they might be most unwelcome?" Hermione kept her face as neutral as possible, but Tonks bristled next to her.

"None of your business," Tonks said quickly. "Though now that you mention it, we should probably be going. Come on, Hermione." She pulled on Hermione's arm, and was surprised when the younger witch did not comply.

"We could possibly ask the same question of you, Lady Malfoy," Hermione said. "Perhaps we could help each other? Or simply agree to live and let live?" Narcissa laughed again, colder than before. The gaze leveled on the young witch turned calculating.

"I'm afraid that I can't share that information, my dear. However, I must ask, do you have an aptitude for Arithmancy?"

Hermione's eyes widened, but she quickly corrected. She had expected Narcissa to say something catty and leave, not further the conversation."I've been told that I do, ma'am."

"Then you might wish to look at the books over there," Narcissa said, pointing at a dusty corner toward the back of the store. "I think you will find them most... enlightening."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked. Tonks pulled on her arm.

"They're probably all booby-trapped or something. Come on, Hermione."

Narcissa shrugged. "I've been told that you are practically Ravenclaw in your search for knowledge, Miss Granger. Perhaps you are not yet wise enough to consider all sources before you disregard them."

With a wary glace at Narcissa's retreating back, Hermione followed the older witch's directive to the corner labeled "Delphinism". Many of the books were tattered and dustier than the shelves which they sat upon, spines labeled in Greek, Latin, and (oddly) French. This posed no problem to Hermione – she had learned French as a young child, and found the necessary charms for translation of the other two languages during her first year. She was steadily working her way toward a non-charmed understanding of both Classical languages... in her spare time... between working toward House Elf liberation and keeping Harry alive.

She sighed as she perused the titles, Harry's angry words from two nights before coming to the front of her mind. She hated lying to him, she really did, but he had enough on his plate right now. On some level, she was ashamed of how her parents had treated her. It shook her image of herself, made her question any worth she might have thought she had. If the people who were supposed to love her couldn't, why would anyone else? Hermione was normally a very logical young lady, but in matters of the heart we are all fools.

Pushing such maudlin thoughts from her mind, Hermione examined the French titles. One in particular, La magie dans le sang, by J. Génime called out to her. She picked it up, and looked at the copyright. With a grin, she noted it was published in 1980, making it practically brand new by wizarding standards. Flipping to the references section in the back, she was delighted to find lengthy annotations for each reference material.

Fifteen minutes later she also picked up Oi arithmoí ti̱s Psychí̱s and De Anima et in mundo, both of which were highly recommended within the references. Tonks was on the other side of the store, looking for anything that might help Hermione determine her bloodlines. Hermione joined the Auror, and they picked out a few likely-looking tomes before making their purchases and heading back to Grimmauld Place.


Titles:

La magie dans le sang: The Magic in the Blood

Oi arithmoí ti̱s Psychí̱s: Numbers of the Soul

De Anima et in mundo: Of the Soul and the World