Author's Note:

Black's Daughter: this chapter is dedicated for you!

Hearts Corruption: interested in being my beta? I totally fancy the idea of a very powerful Hermione. She's my favourite character with Bill (of course).


Chapter Seven: How Mr. Weasly Meets his Daughter.

Mr. Arthur Weasly – or dad (or daddy) he liked to be called- had a tiring, yet very fulfilling day. He had learned the very same morning that his eldest son, his very handsome, talented, witty, proud, wonderful Gryffindor son (yes, - he was a proud father) was Head Boy! He was thrilled, and had been bragging about it for hours at the ministry. Arthur even put a few extra pictures of his son with the flashing Head Boy badge on his desk. He even threw away a stack of papers marked 'important' to make fit the picture.

Arthur had been so proud of his son he didn't one single bit the little extra work he had to do the very same day. He needed the extra money to get a gift to his son. He was slightly wondering what to get him. He walked (more like jumped) happily to the house were unusual magic had been perceived. It wasn't usually his job to talk to muggle parents with magical children, yet he had done it before; it wasn't very difficult. (Mr. Weasly never knew however that he traumatised all the parents by his excited questions about light bulbs and water taps.)

So he skipped up a tiny fling of stairs and knocked on the door. He heard a laugh on the other side of the door and a strong hushing.

"- Hermione, you already home?"

A man opened the door and got slightly startled by Mr. Weasly. Nicholas mind was quickly working. He saw Mr. Weasly's hat, his robe, his torn suitcase and he knew it. He was a wizard. He had that sparkle around him.

" This is about Hermione, isn't it?"

Mr. Weasly nodded. He found this name rather pretty. Viveca walked in, clutching a jar of milk against her chest and prepared herself for the sad face of her daughter. She couldn't have suspected ever, in her life, to see a wizard at their home.

Whilst Nicholas was beaming, Viveca's world was exploding.

Nicholas was seeing Hermione twirling her hands, creating wonderful things under her hands, next to a handsome man. His world was re-creating itself for the first time since his brother's death. Hermione gave him a future through her own. Where magic killed, magic will revive.

Viveca's world was coming down with a strong, rumbling sound. Hermione, her daughter, was going to get killed! Jane, Lily, James, even Alexander, all of them had perished due to magic! And now her daughter would be thrown into that world. She couldn't prevent it from happening, but she wished it would be different. She couldn't help but wondering if this was the downfall of her child.

" Please, do come in. Hermione isn't quite here yet."

Mr. Weasly nodded happily, glad to finally rest his legs. Nicholas dragged Mr. Weasly to their living room, whilst Viveca walked slowly to the kitchen. She heard the men's voices, talking about wizarding politics. She dropped the milk jug she was hugging when she heard that the War had been over for a decade. She almost screamed in joy, and took out the golden-pink china porcelain tea-set.

But when she heard the little scuffing noise her daughter did whilst walking, the noise of the key turning and the little fluffy head peeking sadly out from the door, she had a glorious and yet horrible premonition: she saw her daughter, her eyes hard, her skin tattooed, her hands sparkling magic, and a man stand next to her, a very tall man with long red hair.

Viveca shook her head. She knew Hermione wasn't hers. She was never hers. Yet she wished so; she could always pretend.

"- Hermione, come here. There is a mister who needs to talk to you."

Hermione watched her mum, then watched the tray in her mum's hands and walked into the room, sensing this was important.

Suddenly, seeing the man sitting there and his eyes turned towards her, the red flash invaded her mind so hard, so intensely, that black spots danced in front of her, her breath became more deep, and her heart pounded in her head. The world spun around her. She closed her eyes, and she let the red wave just invade her, soaking her in power. She opened her eyes, and tried to walk to an armchair.

She fainted before she could do that. Instead of falling on the floor however, she floated above the floor, hair caressing the parquet. Mister Weasly applauded, rather impressed. Then he felt a bit bad of course, seeing the little girl's mother shocked beyond belief. Arthur quickly rushed to the girl and shook her gently.

When he touched her forehead to check her temperature, he received a strange shock that made his rather fine hair fly up and dance oddly on his skull. He chuckled, and lifted the girl as if she weighted nothing. He had after all many children of his own, and this girl reminded him very much of his beloved daughter.

"- Ooh! Very good! This is very powerful magic! Impressive really. I come from a long line of wizards and this kind of magic is quite rare. You ought to be proud, Mr and Mrs. Granger."

Arthur sat down on the sofa, gently placing the girl next to him. He observed the young girl, her bushy hair, her translucid skin and wondered then why he felt the strange urge to wake her up. His hand shook gently the girl's shoulder, and her eyes snapped open.

Arthur Weasly hiccupped and almost fell down from the couch. Her eyes were almost red! This meant one thing and one thing only to Mr Weasly- she was a born Gryffindor! The idea of her being somehow evil didn't cross his mind (maybe it was for the best, considering what later on happened).

"- Wha- What happened?"

"- You, little girl, are a witch."

"- Oh; I knew that."

"- Did your parents tell?"

"- Nnno. It is just something I know."

"- Smart girl."

"- Thank you."

Missis Granger walked in, hands trembling slightly. She put the tray of tea on the coffee table and smiled hesitantly. She poured some tea in three cups, handed a glass of home made strawberry juice to Hermione.

"- O-kaaaay. What happens next?"

" How old are you, Miss Granger?"

"- Seven years old. Eight in September."

"- Oh in four, or in your case, five years, you will go to a school, a wizarding school called Hogwarts. There you will live amongst other magical children like you. It's divided in four houses, Gryffindor is the best, and if you are a good student, you might become a prefect, and later, maybe even Head Boy. Or Head Girl, seeing your gender. My eldest son happens to be Head Boy. Received the letter from Hogwarts today!"

Arthur managed to twist the whole conversation, so the three adults talked about their children. Hermione was bored, yet too polite to leave the room. Arthur saw the warning signs of some serious whining. He showed his hand in his robe pocket and searched for some candy. Finding a home made toffee; he drew out his hand from his robe, letting a smaller picture of his son fall from his pocket.

Hermione thanked for the toffee and took the picture and scrutinized it closely. It represented a boy, a teenager boy, with shaggy red hair, blue laughing eyes and a very freckled face. The picture boy waved to her.

Another flash consumed her from inside again, this time slowly making its way to her blood. The boy's hair had melted behind her eyelids, and now slowly invaded her system, nearing her heart.


Yes, yes, wierd ending, yes. I'll update soon, pinky swear promise. ( Send me a mail or a review if you're interesed, Heart Corruption).