They went to the Room of Requirement and asked for privacy. They got a characterless suite furnished with a dark couch and coffee table. With a few magazines and a reception desk it could've been a waiting room at a dental clinic.
"This is a death notice." Theo held up the letter then sat on the sofa and stared at the envelope.
"How Victorian." Hermione didn't have anything else to say. She was ready to provide sympathy or strategy as required but until he did something, she didn't know how to react. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Ritualised mourning. Everything was codified, down to the ribbon put on the door knocker."
"Muggles don't observe mourning any more?" He didn't want to open the letter. It was foolish. He could guess his adopted father had written to inform Orpheus of his grandfather's death. While he hadn't been watching for it, the news was not a surprise.
"Some cultures do but most English people shy away from public grieving. It's seen as ostentatious." She remembered Colin's funeral. Mr and Mrs Creevey had thanked them for attending then everyone had gone away quietly. "We talk about sex. We don't talk about death."
"Wizarding folk are the opposite. Sex is a sacred mystery and death is just a door." Theo opened the letter. It was as he had expected brief. He read it then handed it to Hermione.
The letter was shockingly terse. Four sentences. Henrik Ilmarinen Varinen, Head of the House of Varinen, informs his son, Orpheus Theodore Varinen, of the death of Katejan Pyry Varinen. The internment will be by ancient rite. Attendance is not required. Remain at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to observe mourning.
"Ancient rite? And he doesn't want you to come home for the funeral?" Hermione gave the letter back. It could've been a telegram for all the warmth it contained.
"I expect the covenant has necessary rituals." He didn't feel anything except old resentment. The Varinens had ignored his mother. They hadn't even sent an elf to act as attendant at her funeral. "He'll probably be cremated on a pyre in the forest. Or he could be bled then buried. Old magic. Possibly illegal, depending on the Finnish Ministry's stance on blood rites."
"You're the heir. Surely you should be there. Henrik adopted you." She put a hand on his. Theo patted it absently.
"Not if they're desperate to present the Horned God with a suitable candidate. Keeping me here, surrounded by young people, keeps us infused with innocent magic. Spring, not winter." Theo wondered what else the family had tried to get a son, and what they had done with their failures.
"I'll read up on pagan religious practices." Hermione made a mental note to brush up on her green magic so she didn't sound like a townie when they were presented to Nyyrikki.
"He'll want us to have sex." The words came out before he could stop them, following his thoughts like a poltergeist. Theo closed his eyes and reminded himself that despite the evidence of the last minute, he was a Slytherin and therefore should be able to talk himself out of that gaffe. "I'm sorry. That was rude."
"But probably accurate. Horny god and all." She wished she had something to fidget with and a tea tray suddenly appeared on the coffee table. Hermione frowned at the crockery. "What, no cake?"
A plate of petits fours materialised.
"Has magic ever seemed like a sightly batty aunt to you?" Hermione asked peevishly. "You know, the one with too many doilies who insists on correcting your grammar and makes racist comments you can't quite call her out on?"
"It will now." Theo curled his fingers around hers. "I am sorry. About the Varinens. I'll see to it no one forces you into anything." He would keep his promise and fulfil the covenant but he absolutely would not drag her into it with him.
"Honestly, I'd like to see them try." She wasn't being boastful. War had taught her the measure of her own strength. She would never go quietly or bow meekly to authority. "I'll help you as far as I can with the covenant. If that isn't enough, we'll just have to improvise. Nyyrikki might be as desperate as the Varinens. If he is, we could negotiate a compromise."
Theo nodded assent. Bargaining with fey was chancy but he would rather take that risk than remain in the past. In furtherance of getting back to their future, they took tea and decided on how sad they should appear to be.
The 'twins' opted to be solemn and plain. If they kept to their uniform with robes rather than casual clothes and covered their hair, that would be enough. Neither wore much jewellery so eschewing it would be easy. They would go to Slughorn to request permission to dine privately, as the evening meal was seen as a social occasion unlike the often skipped breakfast and family luncheon.
Slughorn offered them his own parlour and expressed his sympathies after assuring Orpheus and Ophelia he would assist their observance of the traditional praxis. Theo and Hermione both got the impression he enjoyed seeing them keep to the old ways as it reflected well on him.
The Professor also excused them from their classes that day, a reprieve they used to squirrel themselves away in the Restricted Section after a diversion to the dungeons. Hermione felt like a nun clad from neck to ankle with her hair covered by a black headscarf. She was unnerved by the way the gazes of some students slid off her.
"Pure-bloods." Theo murmured. "They know what's expected of someone in mourning." He had clipped his hair short and wore a pointed cap, headwear that had formerly been the standard 'at home' attire for respectable wizards.
"So we've ceased to exist for a month?" Hermione was in two minds about such anonymity. It would definitely be an asset in Slytherin as the students most affiliated with the Death Eaters were also the most conservative. Not having to interact with them would be a relief. But being a non-person to everyone else might send her dotty.
"Only to the traditionalists. Many half-bloods will be polite but not all, and I doubt any of the Muggle-borns will understand." There were ways to fend off the inquisitive.
"No eye contact and polite refusals, I'll remember." She murmured as she turned a whole chapter in a very dull book on aqua regia that was not enlivened by the author's semi-coherent rambling. Hermione diagnosed an over-exposure to mercury fumes.
They broke for lunch, eaten in silence, then returned to the library. Hermione caught a few whispered queries between students at other tables about the drab garb but no one asked them a direct question. The Varinens returned to their studies unaccosted.
Theo spent the afternoon chasing down a reliable means of travelling between two fixed points, learning more about the theory being Apparition than he considered he needed. Hermione did the same with geomancy so they could work the location of their arrival into Arithmantic equations. The wizarding approach of near enough is good enough if you arrive with all your limbs wouldn't work across time.
"Penmanship was clearly an elective at this witch's school." Theo used an amanuensis spell to copy a smudged page then held the clean parchment up to the light. As he shifted, he happened to notice Idra Deverill slip back behind a bookcase. Lowering his arms, he resumed his seat and waited.
The young Ravenclaw peeked around then seeing they were both occupied, crept forward to leave a small white wrapped box on the table.
"My condolences." She said quietly to the books stacked in front of the Varinens before scurrying off. Theo put the box carefully in his bag. Hermione wrote a question mark on his copied parchment. He wrote 'gift of food for the bereaved, very appropriate' in reply.
They worked until dinner then went sombrely to Professor Slughorn's parlour. He had evidently told the elves, who had found a set of mourning dinnerware. The 'twins' ate bland food off black trimmed plates and drank water from frosted glasses. No lustre, no ornament. It was restful.
The Slytherin Common Room was crowded and voluble when they arrived. There'd been some sort of incident at dinner that evening, about which the Varinens did not inquire. They moved through the throng towards their usual armchairs.
Hermione sensed a rush of magic as soon as she touched the velvet upholstery. It wasn't an offensive spell so her Shield Charm didn't activate. It was also very quick. The charm manifested before she had time to draw her wand.
Though drawing it afterwards was much easier as she didn't have a robe to get in the way. Or sleeves. Or indeed a stitch of clothing. Hermione noted she was completely naked at the same moment she deduced the spell had been a modified wardrobe charm, used by the fussy to store their clothes without undo wear. Very good for spider silk gowns.
The important thing right now was not to flinch. Modified meant there would be a trace from the wand-work. Hermione had a fairly shrewd idea who was responsible for this little prank, which did not bother her. No, she was not embarrassed. She had spent a year in a tent with two teenage boys. The niceties of attire had somewhat fallen by the wayside. They had discovered exactly how many times you could Scourigy underpants before they disintegrated.
Keep that thought in your head. This was fine. This was a bit of a laugh and if Harry and Ron were here they'd be sniggering even as they tracked the owner of the wand with that handy spell Moody had shown them. Death Eaters left traces of themselves, everyone with a wand did, and being able to see those ephemeral touches could save your life.
Or give you someone to revenge upon as you stood in your Common Room in your birthday suit.
Hermione thought all of that in a flash, in a rush of adrenalin as she cast Moody's detection charm. A green glow suffused the chair then drifted into the crowd. Students hastily moved aside uncertain of the effect as what she thought of as magical Luminol lit the way right to Berengaria Yaxley.
Theo hastily shrugged off his robes, draping them over Hermione to hide her nakedness. She didn't seem to have noticed. He didn't recognise the first spell she cast though the second one was immediately obvious.
"Expelliarmus." Hermione snapped as soon as her spell confirmed the perpetrator. Yaxley's wand went flying. "Petrificus Totalus." Yaxley hit the floor flat on her back.
There was a gap now around the blonde Slytherin where her Housemates had stepped away from her. No one had left. They were curious to see what happened next.
"I have an excellent sense of humour." Ophelia's voice came naturally to her as her anger and outrage stoked. "I am sure I enjoy a joke as much as the next person." Hermione looked to Theo, beside her, who smiled grimly.
"I certainly find Yaxley amusing right now." He observed as he let his wand slide into his hand. "But there is a time and a place for levity, and here today isn't it."
"Quite so." Hermione badly wanted to run to her dorm but she wouldn't retreat, not when all of Slytherin was staring at them. "We are in mourning. We need to maintain a certain decorum." She flicked her wand. "Serpensortia."
A green viper appeared on the carpet near Yaxley's head. She was quite pleased with the colour, which nearly matched the Luminol spell. It seemed appropriate. Hermione directed it towards the immobilised witch. The snake coiled over Berengaria's neck before slowly slithering onto her face.
"Mind that, will you?" Hermione handed Theo her wand and walked at a controlled pace to the Sixth Year dorm. She angrily hunted through her trunk for spare clothes, pulling them on while hissing swear words. A new scarf for her hair, a pause to tamp down her temper then she returned fully dressed to the Common Room.
Theo was amusing himself by having the viper twist itself into elaborate knots around Yaxley's unresisting limbs. They swapped his robes for her wand then Hermione dismissed the snake. Lesson learned, she hoped. The Varinens sat down to read, leaving the Full-Body Bind to dissipate naturally.
The other Slytherins dispersed as the show was over. Watching out of the corner of her eye as they slunk away, Hermione was dismayed to see no one stayed to help Yaxley. Kneen and Travers made themselves scarce, leaving their friend on the floor.
"Dessert?" Theo pulled Idra's gift from his bag and unwrapped it. Inside, carefully swathed in a napkin were two cream buns the girl had likely coaxed the elves into making for her. Hermione accepted one, eating it slowly to get it past the tension in her gut.
"Are they going to just leave her there?" She muttered behind her hand as she licked powdered sugar off her lips.
"I expect so." He didn't smile at her compassion but he wanted to. "Poor form to attack someone in mourning. She should've waited the month to get even."
There wasn't much she could say to that. Hermione sat and stewed. She should've been horrendously embarrassed the entire House had seen her naked but she just couldn't bring herself to care. After the initial out-rush of anger, it didn't seem to matter. Nothing did, really.
"I think I'll go to bed early." Hermione said after staring at the same page for ten minutes. She got up and went to her dorm, releasing Yaxley as she reached the door making it look like an afterthought.
After warding everything and forting up behind her curtains, Hermione lay awake staring at her canopy as tears trickled out of her eyes. She didn't know why she was crying. She couldn't muster the energy to care about that either. She wanted to go home but wasn't sure where that was any more.
Hermione rolled onto her side, cuddling her pillow and wished she had someone there with her. Her mum would've known how she was feeling, would've brought cocoa and sympathy. But right now her mum was a young graduate worrying about bills.
She wondered if she could sneak into the boys' dorm to bunk with Theo, and that was such a side-ways thought she stopped snivelling. Theo wasn't Harry. Theo wasn't Ron. But she'd thought of him, not her best friend and her sort of boyfriend.
That was something she needed to think about.
Was it just because he was here with her? She couldn't deny that was a factor as there was little point pining for anyone in the future. Her and Theo, and ghosts and echoes. That was all she had.
They were friends. They had a lot in common and if they'd both been in Ravenclaw on their first go around they'd likely have been sociable together. Probably not bestest chums given his father was a Death Eater but they'd have spoken probably. Studied together, certainly.
And fought on opposite sides in an uncivil war.
Hermione wondered how many of her schoolmates had taken the Dark Mark. Taken or had it inflicted upon them. Malfoy had. Theo too. She doubted Zabini would've committed to it, for all he spouted blood purity rubbish like the rest of them. Crabbe and Goyle almost certainly as they were obedient lackeys like their fathers. Of the older Slytherins she wasn't certain. The younger ones had probably escaped by virtue of Voldemort's defeat.
Which hadn't happened yet.
She was thankful the Marauders had given her a reason to leave Hogwarts. Coming back for her Eighth Year had been hard enough. Her second Sixth Year was a durance vile. Ophelia was starting to get into her head, starting to become instinctual. The sooner she was Hermione Granger again, the better.
Except she wasn't.
The rune stones were a factor, Hermione had to admit that. She never would've thought about it if she hadn't seen the crests appear. But what she was thinking about now was how well her Memory Spell had affected her parents. When she'd cast it, she been careful, thorough but as light as possible. Enough to protect them but not a neuron more.
She wanted to believe her mum and dad were in St Mungo's because someone else had Obliviated them first, probably not with the care she'd used. That was why her parents had to relearn everything when her spell had been removed. They were suffering from old trauma not new.
She really wanted to believe that, which made her suspicious of how much credit she was giving a polished rock. Blood magic was old, crude in many ways but it was rarely inaccurate. And the adoption contract had flickered blue, showing no forgery, when she'd signed it.
So, why was she lying in bed tormenting herself with doubts when she could cast a heritage charm herself and find out? Hermione sat up. Her notes on heraldic magic contained several suitable spells as wizards had historically been a bit paranoid about paternity.
She cast every last one. Propped up in bed, she methodically worked through the various charms. By the time she was done, her finger was sore from the many small cuts she'd inflicted to draw blood and she had three parchments filled with images of the same crests.
Even the complicated lineage charm that showed her ancestry for three generations, enough to confirm pure blood, had given her what she had feared to see. Hermione knew enough of the Black family tree to situate herself in it. The wives of the paternal line, Rosier then Crabbe then Bulstrode, hadn't occurred in that sequence in the last two hundred years other than for Bellatrix and her sisters. She'd been interested in how inbred the Blacks were so she'd looked at the wives in particular.
She didn't know much about the Lestrange side but from what the charms showed her, they were certainly fond of their cousins. Fortunately there didn't seem to be a prior intermarriage between the Blacks and the Lestranges so whatever genetic anomalies she'd inherited, they were unlikely to be homozygous.
Just mad hair and buck teeth and a tendency towards obsession. Hermione laughed a bit at that. Of course, there were still questions. How had Nemesia Lestrange got to the Grangers? Why hadn't Kreacher recognised her as a member of the Black family? Why wasn't she on the tapestry?
Theo had said his father was Nemesia's godfather. The likelihood that an old school Death Eater would've abandoned two comrades' pure-blood child with a pair of dentists was microscopic. No chance of Rodolphus or Bellatrix doing the same either. So, someone else had taken the baby.
She had to have been a baby because there were photographs of her coming home from hospital. An icy tendril ran down her spine. There were photos of her mum and dad with a pink wrapped bundle on the doorstep of their home. Her granddad had taken the pictures. There was no doubt the Grangers had a daughter.
Changeling.
Hermione made herself follow that thought to its logical conclusion. Assuming the blood magic spell-work she had done was correct, which it might not be, and that Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange were her biological parents, which they might not be, she wasn't the baby in the pink blanket.
There was an infinitesimal chance that a very thorough magical person had cast memory charms on her mum and dad, four grandparents, a dozen close friends and co-workers, and had faked photographs of her pregnant mother on the beach in Dover during a family holiday in the summer of 1979.
Or a magical person in a hurry had found the first couple with a baby about the right age and had swapped the infants. Leaving her with the Grangers and taking the Grangers' daughter away. And no one who cared about Nemesia Lestrange would give a damn about a newborn Muggle.