Chapter 6: Genetics

Hermione stood in uncomfortable silence with Luna Lovegood for what seemed like an eternity, wishing for a Time-Turner. Just as the lingering awkwardness of their recent introductions was starting to dissipate, the younger girl finally spoke. "His beard was full of Wrackspurts. It's why he was eventually killed in Persia. They made his brain too fuzzy, and he couldn't block a stray curse in time. It's a common problem for wizards with excessive facial hair . . . I wonder how Dumbledore avoids it."

During the course of Luna's ramblings, Hermione turned to her in indignant disbelief. Not only was the strange girl talking nonsense, but she was also disrupting Hermione's much needed solitude.

Luna continued, "The only explanation I can think of is that Dumbledore must groom his beard more often to keep them from nesting there . . . Or maybe Professor Hagrid makes him a special repellant. What do you think?"

Hermione simply stared at the girl for a moment, hoping that a pregnant pause would discourage further drivel, but Luna's innocent stare eventually wore away at Hermione's resolve. She managed a short, exasperated response. "What?"

Disconcerted by Luna's continued presence, Hermione abruptly shifted her attention back to the portrait.

Luna changed the subject by asking, "Isn't he fascinating?"

Hermione reluctantly mumbled, "He reminds me of someone."

"He's related to a few of the older Wizarding families, so that probably explains why he looks familiar to you," said Luna in a factual tone.

Luna suddenly had Hermione's full attention. "Which ones? Are the Malfoys among his descendants?"

Luna smiled knowingly. "Yes, there's no denying that, is there? Although they are not his direct descendents, they have his eyes for sure. Some of them even have his hair . . . Merlin had no known offspring, but I happen to know the truth."

The flutter of excitement Hermione initially felt at the possibility of gleaning any useful information from Luna quickly died. Her views on history and life were obviously skewed, and Hermione couldn't stop the biting remark from slipping past her lips. "Oh, yeah? Have you another ludicrous theory to share?"

Hermione's attitude didn't seem to intimidate or discourage Luna from sharing her story. "Oh, it's far from ludicrous, Hermione. I haven't told many people this, but I know Merlin had progeny because I am descended from the daughter he had with his apprentice, Morgana. She was with child when Merlin left England. He never returned, and she went into seclusion with her child for their protection. It's all in her journals that have been passed down to every daughter in my family."

Hermione didn't look convinced. "Why have I never read about that in History of Magic?"

Luna shrugged. "How could you? Morgana's public life ended when Merlin left, and my family has never released her journals."

Hermione looked scandalized. "She really had journals? Surely they should be properly researched and catalogued at the Ministry and put into a proper library!"

"Oh, no . . . They aren't academic writings. They are personal letters and the like. They belong with the family." Luna sat down at a nearby table, and Hermione followed suit without really thinking about what she was doing. Luna's story was suddenly interesting.

"Luna . . . Even personal documents from a witch as legendary as Morgana should be available to the world."

"They are all she left behind. We cannot trust them to anyone. They are our family's most precious heirlooms."

"She didn't leave behind anything else."

Luna cocked her head to the side and grinned. "Well, she did leave us all with a distinct birthmark, but that's not what you meant, is it?" She lifted her hair and twisted it on top of her head before turning in her seat, revealing a purple mark at the base of her neck."

Hermione swallowed hard and unconsciously placed a hand at the back of her own neck, rubbing her skin nervously through her thick locks of hair.

HG**LM

Father,

I hope this letter finds you well. I know you weren't expecting another letter from me until next week, but you did ask me to always report peculiar occurrences from Potter's social circle. I've noticed, on more than one occasion, Miss Weasley attempting to pry Viktor Krum away from his classmates, and I have observed him being less than gentlemanly with her beneath the Quidditch pitch. She seems to be keeping their relationship a secret from her brother and his friends, and I can understand why. I find this particularly disturbing because of her young age, and I thought you ought to know. Having taken what he wanted from Weasley, Krum appears to be moving on, forming a similar relationship with Hermione Granger. I suspect that Weasley is more upset about this development than she lets on, but she really should have been more modest with her affections.

I assume that Granger is a bad influence on the girl. I honestly don't understand how Krum can stand Granger. She'll never be a proper witch, and her attitude is only getting worse. She's started making clothes for house-elves! Clothes! She's completely mental, going around the whole school spreading her Muggle propaganda about freedom for all creatures. It's disturbing.

I must go to breakfast, and I know that you are busy as well. Give Mum my regards. I'll write again next week.

Your son,

Draco

HG**LM

Lucius read his son's letter twice before pouring himself a strong drink. He was disturbed for several reasons, and he needed to relax in order to think about this latest development. Ginny's actions were not at all surprising. Lucius knew that she never granted a man favors without gaining something in return, and as Krum was competing against Potter in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, he was fairly certain that she was seducing Krum in order to help Potter in some way. It was the most logical conclusion.

What pained him the most was his son's mention of Hermione. He prayed that she wouldn't allow the Bulgarian to take advantage of her. He grimaced at the thought that she was only fifteen and immediately removed parchment and a quill from his desk, hastily scrawling a note to Severus about watching the young man's interactions with Hermione.

After sending the letter, Lucius thought about Hermione's fondness for house-elves. He gave a soft chuckle as he remembered his naive Morgana presenting clothes to her beloved house-elf after he had told her the story of their enslavement. He'd always despised her bothersome little house-elf, Pippi. Lucius' own former servant, Dobby, reminded him of Pippi, which was the source of his extreme contempt for the annoying creature.

HG**LM

Merlin's mind was at ease as he sat near the hearth, relishing a quiet moment after supper. The night's meal had been particularly satisfying because the house-elves had prepared Morgana's favorite recipes in order to celebrate her entry into womanhood.

He shifted his lazy gaze from the book in his lap to the womanly silhouette at his feet, regarding her sleeping form with fondness as she lounged on the rug in front of the fire. She mumbled in her dreams, and he could see drool glistening on her lips as she rolled onto her stomach, wiping damp strands of hair out of her flushed face. In moments like this he was reminded of how young and childlike she still was despite her physical maturity.

Closing the book, he approached Morgana and lifted her into his arms. She protested with a sleepy grunt before letting her head fall onto his shoulder and resuming her light snoring. He placed a soft kiss upon her forehead and carried her into her bedroom.

After placing her gently into the bed, he turned to leave, but her small, sleepy voice called to him in the darkness. "Master?"

Merlin turned at the door. "Go back to sleep, Morgana. You've had a trying day."

"But you promised to tell me a story . . . Please stay and tell me about the fair elves." Morgana sat up on her elbows and frowned.

He returned to her side and asked, "What do you want to know?"

She pulled him down, forcing him to sit beside her on the bed. "The Elvish Goblet . . . you never finished telling me about it."

He answered her in a soft, yet firm, voice. "Never speak of it by that name. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master," she muttered.

He placed his hand on hers. "I am not angry with you, but I need you to understand the importance of secrecy in these matters. Only I keep the secret of the Holy Grail's true history. The Muggles do not know anything. Most wizards know pieces of the truth, but none of them know everything. The human memory is short, and the complete story has been lost over time. The Grail can be dangerous, so it is best forgotten by the masses. As my apprentice, you will inherit the writings . . . and the responsibility . . . Where should I continue the story?"

Morgana's excitement began to build. "You said that some wizards removed the Grail from the Tor and fled to the East with it, weakening the fair elves. You said that it was lost until Jesus came along."

Merlin closed his eyes and began the tale. "It is true. The Grail was lost for all of those years, but the elves did search for it. During their quest they encountered a band of traveling warriors and merchants, who regaled them with tales of an immortal witch called Circe. They called her a witch, but her powers were not of the Grail, and it was later said that she was a daughter of the gods. She was a renowned Potions Mistress known for transfiguring her enemies into all manner of animals and beasts with her potions, but the part of the story most interesting to the elves was the mention of Circe's cup. It was said that the witch tempted men to drink from her golden goblet. Some even claimed that the cup itself was magical because of its beauty and distinction."

"Was it the Grail?" Morgana interrupted.

"It was not. Circe was easily enraged, and she was a mischievous witch. As soon as they set foot on her island in search of her golden cup, she began to plot against them. Seeing their inquiry as an insult, she lured them into a false sense of security before striking. She cursed the elves into the form they are still trapped in today."

"To this very day?" Morgana was both confused and curious.

Merlin nodded. "House-elves."

Morgana was instantly alert with terror in her eyes. Her voice became shrill and desperate. "No! That's not possible! They were beautiful, immortal creatures!"

He waited for her silence and continued, "Their immortality slipped away when the humans betrayed them, and their beauty was taken away from them by Circe. They were then shunned wherever they traveled. They still had powerful magic, but it was bound to that of humans. They preformed their best and felt healthier among us. Many wizards also claimed that their powers were more potent when they were among the house-elves."

"Then how did they become enslaved?" she asked while suppressing a yawn.

Merlin allowed her to rest her head against his chest while he explained, "It was a gradual process that is still evolving. When the house-elves first returned to the Wizarding community, they were shunned for their appearance, and they quarreled with most other magical creatures. They came back to humans for protection, and they agreed to various contracts that bound them to servitude in exchange. It took many generations for the current relationship between house-elves and wizards to develop."

When Merlin finished his story, he realized that Morgana was sobbing into his tunic.

"Don't cry over it, you silly girl."

She sobbed harder and mumbled muffled apologies into his chest, refusing to look into his eyes.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around her small shoulders.

She finally whispered, "I'm giving Pippi clothes tomorrow. I hope she stays, but I'll understand if she leaves."

Merlin sighed. "Of course she'll stay, Morgana, which is unfortunate for me. I wish that I had known years ago how utterly useless she is . . . This is the only home that she knows, and she loves you. Do not fret."

He gently rocked her in his arms until her steady breathing told him that she was finally asleep. Pulling a blanket over her sleeping form, he whispered, "Maybe now you'll stop asking me to tell you stories before you go to sleep."

HG**LM

Harry and Ron stared at Hermione in disbelief as she knitted garish little clothes for the Hogwarts house-elves.

Ron finally worked up the courage to ask, "You don't actually think they'll wear those, do you?" When she didn't answer, he added, "They look sort of odd."

Harry added, "Creepy."

Ron nodded.

When Hermione turned to the boys with a look that could kill, Harry suddenly stuck his nose deeper into the newspaper he was reading, leaving Ron as her sole victim.

"I can't believe you would ask me that, Ron Weasley! I'm trying to liberate enslaved magical creatures. Who cares what the clothes look like?"

Hermione gathered her things and fled the room. She felt like a freak, and she couldn't understand why she was the only one concerned about the rights of house-elves. There was just something in her soul telling her that she needed to correct the wrongs done to them. Feeling isolated in the Wizarding world for the first time in years, she went to the library to find a bit of comfort.