Disclaimer: As always, I do not own Harry Potter :(

Chapter 10: Summer of Genetics

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Faris returned two days later.

It was early morning when Hermione heard sharp tapping on her window. She grumbled, still half-asleep and forced herself out of bed. After sliding her large window open, Fairs hopped in and stuck his leg out for her.

She fumbled with the packaging in drowsiness, and finally untied the soft string. She handed Faris a treat, which he took with appreciative hoots and perched himself at the corner of her room.

Her mind startled awake when she realized the package was from Draco. She quickly pulled back the wrapping parchment and set her eyes on an old looking book that was quite thick, The Buildings of the Wizarding Community: Middle Ages.

A smile took her lips. She briefly wondered if he had a personal room of books to himself, but remembered this was Draco Malfoy she was thinking about—the lucky git probably had a whole library in his house. Opening the cover, a small torn piece of parchment slipped out. Bending over, she picked up the piece, recognizing his refined script.

Muggle fiction? I'm skeptical.

Also, your owl is an insufferable messenger. My father was not pleased.

Hermione stifled a laugh as she read the two lines multiple times. There was no addressee or even an indication of his name at the end, but she considered the idea better. If their owls were intercepted in some way, the catcher would have no idea who the letters were addressed to or where they were from.

Placing the book aside, her eye caught on another book, though this one was far more aged and battered than the others. It was the book Dumbledore had given her. She had yet to start reading the material, afraid for what she might find. She repeated to herself that her headmaster wouldn't force upon a book that was about the darkest magic or some sort, but she didn't feel convinced. The old text felt dangerous in some way.

Deciding to gather her courage with breakfast, Hermione set the book aside and headed down the stairs, careful not to wake her parents. After chugging everything with orange juice, she cleaned up the dishes by hand, having actually missed the activity while at Hogwarts. Some things just felt much more accomplished when done the hard way.

Hermione reentered the room feeling far more alert and refreshed. She glanced at the old book and released a steadying breath.

No more stalling. It was time to read the sodding book.

Feeling nervous, she slid her finger under the cover and flipped the stiff material back. She rolled through a few empty pages with care and finally saw a short block of text. Gulping, she read the preface.

To the reader,

My name is Cato Gaius Max. I am the last living male to bear the old wizarding pureblood line of Max. My younger sister Ella has been married off into the Black family with Cygnus Black, and I have been disowned and cut from the family tree. But hear me; I have not a single regret. This book will be an extensive research journal where I will purge every last prejudice pureblood families hold. I have worked closely with the muggle scientist, Gregor Johann Mendel and he has shown me his astonishing discoveries, which you will read in this text. You may call me a blood traitor or a mudblood-lover, but you cannot take away the bare truth that muggle science has reached. Discover my words with an open mind, there is much more to life than the magical community had ever thought possible.

With luck,

Cato. 1864

Hermione took a sharp breath. Mendel. A bell rang though her mind. She wasn't one too keen on muggle scientists, but it was a name that muggle kids studied as they entered school, the man called The Father of Genetics.

She glanced at the date again and calculated the math in her head. The book had been written over a hundred years ago, no wonder the thing was falling apart. She took a deep breath and flipped to the next page. There was a heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her whatever was written in the book was going to change everything. Glancing down, she tuned out the world.

May 1856

I am heading to Germany today. There is a muggle scientist that I have been seeking to work with in secret. He has informed me briefly on his experiments pertaining to the characteristics of life and traits of inheritance. Incredibly fascinating work this muggle has achieved…

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June 1856

Mendel has begun to work on what he deems as the Pea Plant experiment. He is watching for seven traits: Plant height, pod shape, pod color, seed shape, seed color, flower position and flower color. Interestingly enough, through the use of what he calls selective breeding, he will determine how traits are passed down. Surely, there are numerous muggle studies that indicate inheritance in plants and animals to be the same, if not similar. Humans cannot be any different…

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December 1857

Experiments are going in circles. There seems to be some kind of invisible force that makes certain traits appear while the others don't—truly, a mind-boggling branch of muggle science. Pea plants are constantly being sorted out, but Mendel and I are having difficulty trying to understand this invisible force. We deemed this force controllable however, by using certain traits and limiting others. It is not random, but perhaps an act of chance…

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April 1859

True progress has begun. We have captured this invisible force of nature to be quite calculable. Some traits were measured as dominant, while others recessive. There is another force that we have not discovered yet, that makes certain traits weaker or stronger over the other. Sometimes there is an odd mix. A white flower crossed with a purple flower produced a pink flower. However, this trait did not occur every time. We have already deduced this not to be an act of pure chance. We are going back to the beginning…

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November 1860

The problem is overcome. From the diagram in the last entry, it is concluded that what we deemed as purebred are simply results that contain two copies to each trait. All this time, we have been struggling with the idea of one copy, now the idea is overruled. This thought came about with the strange occurrence of outlasted traits appearing again. There was no explanation for them when we continued to sort them out through selective breeding. It is now clear. With two copies of each trait, we deemed that the weaker copy is not erased, but simply overcome. Due to the recessive copy still being in place, if there comes across a chance that it meets another overcome copy, there is a slim possibility of the 'lost' trait reappearing. Fascinating.

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January 1861

Mendel and I have created the four-point method, changing the previous diagram to a fully functional one. We are starting to lose track of the thousands of pea plant diagrams we have been through, but I see the end of this tunnel. There are a few problems still in question. Mutations are occurring with the older plants as we continue to dwindle the traits to specific ones. Mendel theorizes that because this trait pool is so small, there are problems that occur during and after the breeding process. Another confusion to overcome…

March 1862

I have begun to theorize with the idea of a magical trait. Is it possible? Truly, magic is a supernatural force that no one really knows where it started or how it came to be, but surely, there must be some explanation. If magic were passed down from parent to child just as flower color is passed down, many things would fit into place. Experimentation is needed…

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August 1863

My theories are concluding to be true. After Mendel and I parted, I have used the four-point method and every member of my family too as far as my lineage is recorded. If magic is truly a passable trait, it must be a dominant trait. In this case, when a purebred witch and wizard come together, there will always be a perfect chance of their child being magical. But where do the squibs fit in? How does this occur? More questions…

November 1863

I have found it. Of course, it is a shameful act that I have overlooked such a fact. Muggles. I have not taken them into account after they have been blasted off the family tree for tainting our line. It is of great reluctance when many purebloods admit they have removed family members due to marrying muggles. When a purebred witch or wizard is paired with a muggle, there is still a one hundred percent chance that their child will inherit the magical trait, simply due to the dominance of the trait. However, my theory is that the muggle copy is not erased. Similarly to the pea project, the muggle copy will remain until met with another overcome muggle copy. According with this, between half-bloods, there is a fourth of a chance the child will be without magic. I cannot yet explain how the dominant magical trait is overcome, it is most frustrating. It seems as if the magical trait will turn off randomly... more studying required...

Another situation I have found with purebreds, quite astonishing in fact. Mendel was correct. Continuous selective breeding within pureblood witches and wizards is damaging. This is the answer to all those unknown deaths that occur to unfortunate pureblood children when they are young. Inbreeding is dangerous. There are hardly any traits to be chosen from in the pool of characteristics, and children often have mental issues, lack of physical development, and early death. These cases are constantly blasted from the family tree as well. Researching was difficult, but rewarding.

However, yet another loose end remains in this experiment. Muggle-borns. Where do they come from? Clearly, their parents do not have an ounce of magic in them. Or do they? Back to research…

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June 1864

Squibs. The answer was squibs. Because they have not been registered within the ministry, tracking them was difficult work, but I have succeeded. I have studied four major pureblood families including my own, going through every birth within the last two hundred years. I have tracked down all squibs produced from each family, and their muggle descendants. And some of these muggle descendants were magical. The answer is thus: muggle-borns must have squib ancestors. More often than not, squibs will marry into muggle families, therefore overcoming the magical trait (this theory I will research more later), however it is never erased. It resurfaces generations later. How this resurfaces is something I have yet to discover. However, this explains the unequal number of muggle-borns compared to the number of squibs. Going off a strict lineage line, muggle-borns who are descendants of squibs, who in turn are descendants of purebred witches and wizards, mean that those so-called 'mudbloods' are actually distant family as well.

This discovery is immense. We are all connected one way or another. It is ironic to think the purebloods are actually the ones with 'dirty blood' from the generations of inbreeding. The wizarding society has made its mistake. Magic is an inheritable trait that has absolutely nothing to do with blood. The idea itself is truly absurd. How can blood determine magical ability? It cannot. A half-blood does not constitute a half-wizard. Change is in order. Perhaps when analyzing this from a true scientific point of view, one would call purebloods 'homozygous wizard and witches', meaning those who have both copies of magical traits. The half-bloods can then be called 'heterozygous', those who have a magical copy and a non-magical copy. Truly, where does this leave us?

Hermione slammed the book shut.

Her heart was racing against her chest, and her fingers trembled slightly on the cover. There were a few more entries she had to go through, but she simply couldn't find the will or the energy to follow through. Glancing at her clock she suppressed a gasp. She had been reading for nearly the entire day.

Hermione brought her attention back the journal in front of her and let the revelation settle in. If she truly believed the man's word to be true, it was an amazing discovery indeed. She finally understood why Dumbledore had so many precautions with the old text. Thinking back, she wondered why this wasn't common knowledge. It would completely overturn the arrogant pureblood beliefs and people like Voldemort would be deemed mad with no followers.

Arrogant Purebloods.

She inwardly slapped herself, of course.

They would never accept it. They didn't blast off 'tainted' family members for nothing. She assumed the research had been copied and published, but was met with absolute outrage and denial. No wonder this was the last copy. The purebloods wanted nothing to do with it. If they accepted the book as true, it would be shattering everything they had ever believed in.

Another realization popped in. She was a descendent of a squib, thus, a true wizarding family. Her mind whirled and ran at light speed, trying to remember if her grandparents or great-parents had ever said a word regarding magic. Who was the squib? A mixture of anxiety and curiosity ate through her stomach. Hermione wanted nothing more than to burst into Hogwarts and file through every genealogy book until she found the answer.

Sadly, her summer had just started.

Releasing the book, she stretched her stiff shoulders and let out a strained groan when her spine cracked back into place. She rolled her sore neck multiple times and flexed her numb legs. Setting the old book on her desk, she flopped back onto her bed and stared at the ceiling.

Somehow, the information she read should have been a reason for celebration. She should have been jumping in triumph and owling everyone she knew.

Nothing seemed different.

Perhaps, it wasn't a surprise? She shook her head; the discovery was utterly immense. If the book were copied and published again, it would be capable of turning the wizarding world upside down if they accepted it.

Acceptance.

Hermione sat up. When had she truly come to terms with her parentage? If she had been secretly wavering with her blood status, this would have been good news to her. She frowned. It didn't feel like that at all. Sure, it was exciting, but it was just new information.

She shut her eyes in thought. Hermione knew with all the confidence in the world, she could jump on her roof and shout about being a mudblood and being proud of it—not that she would now, in light of Voldemort's insane followers around.

That was it. As immense and exciting as it was, the information changed nothing. She didn't value herself any more than she had before. After accepting her blood status and acknowledging the fact that she was considered an outcast, and that was okay—the new discovery meant nothing to her. She was still Hermione Granger, the insufferable know-it-all, best friends with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, Muggle-born and proud of it.

Her shoulders lifted and she broke out in a smile. Her heart fluttered against her ribs as she opened her eyes. Would Harry and Ron ever understand the personal breakthrough she had just experienced? An image of Harry raising an eyebrow and Ron scratching the back of his head flashed before her eyes. She snorted.

Her mind drifted to Draco. Dumbledore had asked her to give the book to him after she had read it. But was he ready for it? She frowned and pursed her lips. If she gave him the information too early, he would reject it, stand firmly in his denial and it would be even harder to pull him out of that rut. Honestly, she wanted nothing more than to slap the book in his face with a triumphant 'ha!' and flash him a smug smile. Running her hand through her hair, she sighed and blasted the thought from her mind. She was walking on thin ice. Trying to get someone to change their views was not a pleasant process. Old views needed to be broken one at a time, which was a painstaking process in itself, then new habits needed to be built in place of it. If she forced things upon him too quickly, he would no doubt break in the operation. And now with Voldemort on the other side of the equation, along with his Death Eater father, Draco could easily be pulled back to them, lost forever.

Hermione took a deep breath and turned in her bed. Deciding to think on better things, she picked up the book he had sent her and cracked it open. This book was living proof that Draco was willing to give her a chance. She tightened her fingers in resolution. She wasn't going to let him down.

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The next week passed by quickly. She exchanged books with Draco again at the end of the week—though this time, his owl had arrived first. There were two books attached to the leg of a large eagle owl, which she took with haste. The new guest perched on Faris' empty bar, as her feathery companion was currently flying to the burrow. After tossing him a treat, Hermione turned to both packages, gently tearing off the parchment and flipping the cover open. Sure enough, a small slip of paper was placed in the book she lent him, his elegant script causing her to be distracted again.

A man obsessed with strength, determined not to show any weakness or emotion—in the story yes, but it can't be such a tragic flaw in reality. At least he had the decency to hang himself before he succumbed to the authority of invaders.

She reread his short letter again, and hummed in thought. It was concise and to the point. Perhaps what he wants isn't a full-blown letter debate, but a simple review. Instead of responding to his thoughts, she grabbed the book he had sent her, ripped a sheet of parchment from her desk and wrote a short analysis of her thoughts on his book. She tucked the letter under the cover and wrapped it again. Deciding to let his owl rest for the day, she turned to the second book on her bed, picking it up with curiosity: The Darkest Times. She scrunched her nose; this would definitely be a lovely read.

The following morning, she grabbed her English translation of Don Quixote, added a few words under the cover, wrapped the book, and tied it to the eagle owl's leg along with The Buildings of the Wizarding Community: Middle Ages. She watched the black owl silently soar out of sight, hooting in farewell.

Fairs returned the next day with Ron's letter. The entire Weasley family was on the move. Not much was written in the note except that they would come pick her up next week Sunday at 6pm.

She received a surprise letter from Viktor, his owl landing messily on her window frame, clearly exhausted from the long trip. Faris was reluctant to let the new bird rest next to him, but Hermione gave him a stern look, and a 'please'. After tossing both of them treats, she gently unrolled the parchment and read through his letter. Durmstrang was appointed a new headmaster by a name she didn't recognize, the school itself seemed quieter, but there was clear tension in the air. He was playing Quidditch again, and promised her that he was still studying and practicing his spells. Smiling, she thought of what she could say after his owl had gotten enough rest.

Thinking of Viktor made her stomach jump nervously. She had thought he was just another Harry and Ron to her, but the familiar sensations of when she first met him were resurfacing. She liked Viktor, honestly. She had woken herself up from the dream that Ron would ever see her as a girl long ago, and it was time to give someone else a chance. She bit her lip, remembering the farewell kiss he had given her, and the way he truly accepted her for who she was, the entire muggle-born and know-it-all package.

Sudden bitterness rose in her chest as she thought of a certain blonde prat who was quite similar to Viktor but thought in the opposite direction. She sighed, feeling a headache approach as she thought of her delicate situation. Determination filled her senses as she reminded herself that the circumstances were getting better. She would make things work. She wouldn't fail Dumbledore.

At 5:50pm, Hermione had her suitcase packed and set, Crookshanks at her ankles, and her parents, already informed, safely inside. She released Viktor's owl with her reply letter the night before and sent Faris to Draco with another muggle book of her own, and the one he lent her, both with small notes under the covers. She cringed as she remembered the content in The Darkest Times, stories about witches and wizards being hunted as a sport, along with gruesome, detailed accounts of those who were accused.

Shaking her head, she glanced at her watch, 6:02pm. They had informed her to stand in her backyard instead of the front door, which was strange.

A second later, there was a loud crack and two figures popped out of thin air. She turned at the noise, startled, recognizing the Weasley twins, one of them unfortunately caught in the branches of the large tree.

"See George, I told you to study the picture longer," Fred remarked, pulling his twin by his robes. "I got here perfectly all right without running into any trees."

"Hardly," George replied, throwing himself off with a grunt.

Hermione nearly stepped on Crooks. "What are you guys doing here?"

The twins finally turned to her, a smirk on their faces. "We're here to pick you up. Got Ron's letter, did you?"

"Of course," she muttered. "You're both of age now. Why do I have a feeling your mum didn't approve of this?"

"Well dad had an emergency Ministry meeting, so he's out," Fred explained. "So we volunteered to go in his place—"

"Two minutes ago," George finished.

She shook her head, not wanting to argue with the two of them. It was never productive.

Fred grabbed her trunk, while George took her wrist.

"You take him," Fred demanded, looking down at Crookshanks.

George looked offended. "I've got to transport the lady, Fred—you take the cat."

Hermione growled and scooped her familiar in her arms, glaring at both of them. "I have him, now let's go."

"Yes, ma'am," they both replied.

The world disappeared from her vision as she shut her eyes and focused on keeping her dinner in place. She felt like she was trapped in one of those muggle tunnel slides, until the pressure vanished and she opened her eyes again.

They were standing in a long street, which looked oddly like a muggle neighborhood. The sun was setting in the horizon, casting an orange glow through the entire street.

She followed the twins onto the pavement, clutching Crookshanks a little tighter than necessary. Fred dug in his pockets for something, then pulled out a piece of parchment and handed it to her.

"Read it and think about it," he instructed.

She took the slip, immediately recognizing Dumbledore's handwriting.

The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.

Slightly confused, she glanced up at the twins then scanned her surroundings for the supposed building. A second later, a run-down looking door appeared out of nowhere, followed by a stone wall and large broken windows that had used to look intricate and fine. The muggle houses to the side next-door seemed to shift aside, to reveal a large, dark looking house that she could have sworn appeared out of the shadows.

George pulled out his wand and tapped the silver doorknob, resulting in several shifts of locks being undone. The old black door swung open, revealing a dark hallway.

As they walked inside, a few candles flickered on and a rush of pounding footsteps echoed ahead of them. Hermione heard Mrs. Weasley before she saw her.

"FRED! GEORGE!" she screeched, rounding the corner. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU TWO! THE NOTE FROM DUMBLEDORE GONE! BOTH OF YOU NOWHERE IN SIGHT!—hello Hermione, dear—COMPLETELY RECKLESS—"

"Mum, don't shout!" Fred yelled back, trying to hold off the Weasley matriarch.

There was a sudden scream that filled the air, far louder than Mrs. Weasley's voice and sounded very close to a dying animal. Hermione cringed and tried to see where the offending noise was coming from.

"Blood traitors! Half-breeds! How dare you taint the house of my fathers! Filthy scum! Be gone from this noble place!"

"OH FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!"

"Who is that!?" Hermione yelled over the screaming as Mrs. Weasley headed off with an exasperated look.

"Portrait of Sirius's mum!" one of the twins shouted back. "She's a complete lunatic!"

She barely saw Lupin dash out from one of the room looking incredibly tired, and rushed to wherever the mad woman was screaming.

"Can't you take her down?" she yelled a little louder.

"She's got some sort of permanent sticking charm! Trust me, that was the first thing we tried when we came here."

After a few more minutes, the screaming died down with a flutter of curtains. Fred and George looked at each other, then down back at her.

"We're going to dash—"

"Can't face mum's wrath now—"

"We'll take your trunk to Ginny's room—"

With that, the two of them disapparated from the hall, leaving Hermione standing alone and slightly taken aback. Mrs. Weasley appeared again, panting slightly.

"Hermione, good to see you, did you have dinner? The kitchen is straight down the hall in the back."

She nodded. "I ate before arriving. Are Ron and Ginny in?"

Mrs. Weasley huffed. "Upstairs, and do try to be quiet."

Not wanting another round of screaming, Hermione tiptoed up the creaking stairs. She grabbed the old railing for support, regretting the action immediately. Retracting her hand in haste, she stared at the strange gooey substance on her palm, trying not to gasp in a mix of disgust and fear.

What a pleasant looking home for the next three weeks of her stay.

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Pleasant was far from her true feelings regarding her experience at Grimmauld Place. Hermione had spent the next two weeks decontaminating the house with Ron and Ginny, trying to remove every living species that had exponentially multiplied in the last twenty years.

Dumbledore had given them a surprise visit along with a handful of Aurors, but the meeting had turned sour at the end, when the old wizard had them swear not to speak of Grimmauld Place to Harry in their letters. Not yet. She and Ron tried to argue that their best friend was probably dying for some means of contact or information, but Dumbledore was firm in his word. Surprisingly, he did not mention a single thing regarding the research book he'd given her, or the situation with Draco.

To make matters worse, Order meetings would take place in the kitchens, but she was barred from the room with resolute rejections. No one under age was allowed to listen in on the meetings. The night Harry was attacked by Dementors, Hermione spent hours pacing in circles in her room, while multiple Order meetings took place.

The only thing that kept her sanity in check was her book-exchanging escapade with Draco. Faris had returned three days after arriving at Grimmauld Place, and they had exchanged two more books since then. Her reviews on his books had gotten longer, even adding in a side comment at the end, showing subtle concern for his wellbeing. Ron had asked who she was owling books to, but she waved him off saying it was a friend she met at the library. It technically wasn't a lie. He seemed to buy it.

To say that her best friend was upset at being left out with his muggle relatives was quite the understatement. After arriving, Harry blew up mid conversation, fuming and utterly distressed at being left out of everything for weeks on end when he was the one Voldemort wanted dead. In retrospect, the madman wanted everyone dead, but Hermione bit back her snarky remark and let him blow off some steam.

Once dinner was served, Harry received his answers, and Hermione received another book from Draco, things started to look better. Her newest book, Purest of the Pure, was an old wizarding genealogy volume that went as far back to the 10th century. Thousands upon thousands of names along with dates filled every page. She felt excitement bubble in her stomach as she clutched the book. It may have been limited to only pureblood families, but it was a great place to start her genealogy quest.

The following day, Harry was cleared of all charges after his trial by the Wizarding court. She practically jumped in delight when her letter from Hogwarts arrived a few days before the start of the new term, with a shiny Prefect badge in it. Much to her surprise—and everyone else's for the matter—Ron received a badge as well. Molly was ecstatic, declaring that a congratulatory party will be in order.

After the celebration was over, she headed upstairs and scribbled a rather long review of the previous text Draco had sent her. She suggested returning the newest book to him at Hogwarts, which started in two days, and even added her new Prefect status at the end. Grabbing her last muggle book, Wuthering Heights, she wrapped the book in parchment and tied the package to Faris' leg, letting her owl set off into the night sky.

Grimmauld Place bustled with life early in the morning as half its younger residents were packing, running around the house and slamming in their last minute supplies. Hermione was standing outside with a screaming Mrs. Weasley—honestly, when was she not yelling anyway—when Faris swooped around her and landed on her lugged with a quiet clank. He stuck his leg out for her, which she tended to with mild surprise. She had not expected Draco to reply since they were returning each other's books at Hogwarts. Unraveling the parchment, she read his short letter.

Agreed.

And so did I.

It was always short and to the point, but Hermione understood immediately. Draco was also a Prefect. Her chest swelled in emotion and a smile broke out on her face. She was not surprised at all with the fact. Draco may have been—or technically still is to some degree—a prat, but he was still one of the top students in their year. Folding the parchment, she tucked it in her robes and waited for everyone else to file out. Mr. Weasley wasn't able to get any ministry-approved cars so the trip had to be made on foot.

During the twenty-minute trip to the station, Hermione sent Faris straight ahead to Hogwarts, unable to bring him into the train without a cage, and she knew he was far too proud to confine himself into one.

The old Express Train came into view, and she smiled, watching the smoke pour from the top and horns being tested before departure. It was the scene of familiar chaos that she had come to look forward to every September.

Clutching her bag, she exhaled. Another year was here.

A/N: 9.11: chapter is now edited. (What would I do without my lovely Betas?) Thanks for keeping this story in line.

And as always, tell me your thoughts on the chapter, the good or the bad. I know this was a very wordy chapter, not much action or intense plot twists, but it was needed. I feel like now that Hermione is strongly rooted in her identity, a lot of other things will come into play.

A fun fact about this chapter: I was originally going to have Hermione meet the Weasleys at the Burrow, but then I remembered reading how Fred and George were now of age and had passed their Apparition test 'with distinction' so I thought, 'Why the hell not, they can come pick up Hermione.' And thus this chapter was born.

See you guys soon,

El