A/N my semester's done! Aaaannnd I managed to get the summer off from classes as well. I still need to study my butt off for the Social Studies Praxis, and study French, (plus the kids) but my schedule is otherwise clear.

Est-ce qu'il y a un personne qui aimera parler avec moi via Facetime, Google Hangouts etc., qui parle français couramment ? J'aimerai un(e) personne à corrigera ma grammaire et mon prononciation. Pour votre aide, j'écrirai une chapitre d'aucune mes histoires j'ai déjà a débuté, où mes histoires qui sont seulement une idée maintiennent, par chaque conversation ) J'aimerai un(e) personne qui a un(e) accent parisien(ne) parce que c'est que je suis apprendre. PM moi, si vous êtes intéressé. Merci ! ~ Amanda

….

When Hermione had wondered what McGonagall's house would look like, she pictured a quaint cottage with a couple bedrooms and a study with overflowing bookshelves. She did not picture a sprawling estate and a mansion that likely rivaled Malfoy Manor. She had already gotten lost twice even though she had been at the residence for just a few hours, she'd never admit it, but thank Merlin for house elves! A young house elf named Fey was following her more faithfully than her shadow now. Normally her edict memory would have allowed her to memorize the floor plan within a few minutes of wandering, but her mind still wasn't up to par. Granted, she hadn't set anything on fire in the couple of days since she awoke from a six day coma, but she felt broken, like she had a few screws loose or misfirings in her brain. Dumbledore had worked to repair her mental library, and he did a decent job of it following Snape's mental stupefy, but it was far from perfect. For the moment, Hermione was content to be functional.

Hermione entered the library and immediately stopped in her tracks, heart pounding. Over a dozen witches mingled around the room chatting amiably or embracing one another with exclamations of it having been too long since they've seen each other. While such a scene wouldn't normally perturb her so, Hermione couldn't help but stand frozen as she saw the most unlikely group of witches in the McGonagall library. Molly Weasley was embracing Narcissa Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson chatted delightedly with Luna Lovegood, and several other witches she did not know were coversing easily with a relaxed looking Minerva. Hermione stayed rooted to the spot until an indignant screech broke the pleasant, if bizarre, atmosphere.

"What in Merlin's name is she doing here!?" Pansy screeched pointing at Hermione.

"Pansy Petunia Parkinson!" Pansy's mother, Fiona Parkinson gasped scandalously.

"But she's a mudblood!" Pansy cared not about the eyes of the room watching the display or the genuine embarrassment of her mother.

Fiona's eyes hardened and her voice took on a sarcastic malice that rivaled Snape's. "Young lady, we have already had a talk about the fact this coven functions separately, outside the realm of political influences. And while yes, this is traditionally a pureblood coven, Ms. Granger is here for a reason. So if you would kindly sit down, shut up and listen for a change, you will learn the answers to your questions.

The war on Pansy's face mirrored that of every teen since time began, she wanted so badly to argue but knew it was not the time or place. Embarrassed by her mother's chastisement, the struggle for Pansy to keep quiet was painfully written across her visage.

Minerva broke the tension by addressing Hermione. "I'm glad you found us sweetheart, now we can begin."

Pansy's eyes bugled at the nickname McGonagall had bestowed on the mudblood, there was definitely something going on, and Pansy was all ears.

The witches found or conjured chairs and sat in a circle in full view of each other. Hermione sat to Minerva's left with Luna next to her, Ginny sat by her mother a few seats further down. Pansy and her mother were directly across the nervous Gryffindor witch and her soon-to-be mother.

Minerva spoke in a commanding yet softer voice than the one she used as a professor. "As you all know, tomorrow is the solstice, the longest day of the year. Since before written record, this coven has gathered every summer to perform ancient rights and celebrate the new beginnings that the solstice provides. This is the first gathering of the coven that some of you have been to. You young women will inherit your mother's spot in the coven upon her death, and take her place during rights in cases of infirmity or other extreme circumstances. Normally the coven would wait until you were of age to indoctrinate you into this ancient and prestigious coven."

Minerva took a moment to sip at the tea cup that appeared in front of her just moments before. She continued, "You should have already learned the history behind this coven, that while much olde than its namesake, was named after Nimue, and boasted such notable names like Morgan Le Fay, Mordred, Guinevere, and even Bodica. I will not go any further into the history of our coven. I will tell you why you are here, you are here for Hermione." All eyes turned to Hermione and she wished she would just melt into the floor and disappear. "Hermione's parents were killed at the end of term leaving no surviving relative able to care for her. I've taken on the role as her guardian for the time being; but, with her permission I will be adopting her on tomorrow's solstice." Minerva's gaze narrowed as it scanned the newcomers. "You were all warned that by stepping foot into this manner under an official summons of the coven that you are bound to keep what happens in the coven, within the coven. You are bound by some of the most powerful and primal magics ever to exist."

Pansy met the Transfiguration Professor's gaze tentatively and swallowed hard before giving her a small, but sharp nod that she understood.

Minerva gave a small nod of acknowledgement in return before continuing, "two hours before sunrise, we will travel to Avalon where we will be preforming a very rare right of adoption… a blood adoption."

Gasps and shocked stares emanated from several of the adult witches. Hermione looked anxious, Ginny looked worried, Luna looked serene, and Pansy looked lost. After a long, pregnant pause, murmuring broke out amongst the members. McGonagall shushed them and explicitly filled them in on the particulars of the ceremony. Pansy couldn't help but feel faint at what the mudblood had volunteered to go through. She despised Hermione, sure, but even Pansy had her limits. Pansy would get little sleep that night in McGonagall manor; she had heard snippets of conversations concerning the Grangers' deaths, and subsequent deaths of several Deatheaters. She was rather worried that the mudblood might lash out and burn them all. Granger was, after all, an unstable pyromaniac about to undergo a horrific ritual.

…

Rather short, but I should be done with the ceremony in the next day or so.