Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, knocked briskly on the door before her. She found herself standing on the welcoming porch of a lovely little seaside cottage. She had received a letter by muggle post from one of her oldest friend, her oldest muggle friend, asking for a visit to discuss something of great importance. She had no idea what was so important but she found herself unable to resist the request. She had only a handful of friends that remembered her prior to her Hogwarts days.
Agatha Wallace gracefully answered the door and gathered her longtime friend in a welcoming hug. "It is wonderful to see you Min," she said enthusiastically. "Please come in and make yourself comfortable."
Minerva did as requested and sat in an overstuffed chair as she studied her friend. It had been at least a couple of decades since they had visited with each other. The Wizarding World had been in the midst of a Civil War and Minerva hadn't been able to visit her dear friend. Agatha's dark wavy hair, amber eyes and pale skin were just the same as she remembered. She was shorter and curvier than Minerva herself. What amazed Minerva is how young Agatha looked. Muggles tended to age quicker than Wizarding kind.
Minerva took the offered cup of tea and settled back in her chair and focused on her friend. "I find myself curious as to why you requested my visit Aggie," Minerva said, her Scottish brogue ever-present.
Agatha smiled at her friend. She knew Minerva was a curious person by nature and the request had probably gnawed at her friend. "Do you enjoy Hogwarts more now that you are it's Headmistress?" Agatha asked, a smirk on her face.
Minerva's jaw hung open in suprise by the question. Her mind refused to deny Hogwarts or her magic, she knew her friend well enough to know Agatha knew of the Wizarding World. "How are you aware of Hogwarts?" she finally asked.
Her friend smiled even wider before admitting a truth she hadn't ever thought of sharing outside of her family. "I am a squib," she answered. "I was born a McNair. My maternal aunt smuggled me out of the wizarding world when my father decided I was a waste of space and decided to kill me."
Minerva gasped in horror as she clasped her hand to her friends in support. "Why have I never been told of this?"
Agatha smiled sadly before answering honestly. "I don't like to remember those days. My family despised me and treated me horribly. Once my father started plotting my demise, my aunt brought me to safety. She brought me to your mother actually."
"What," Minerva question, she was suprised by that.
"Isobel McGonagall found me a loving home and helped pay for the adoption and medical care I required," Agatha explained. "Did you know that your mother saved hundreds of squibs?"
Minerva shook her head in the negative as she listened to her friend. Mother had smuggled squibs out the Magical world? Minerva hadn't been aware of any of it.
"In fact, my granddaughter was the last child she saved. She was most proud of that one," Agatha revealed.
"Why," Minerva asked curiously.
A loud popping sounded in the garden announced the presence of another. Feet dashed up the front steps and a young brunette glided into the room. "Nan," the young woman shouted as she walked through the door. "Sorry I'm late for moive night. I lost track of time." Hermione Granger came to a standstill as she noticed her beloved Nan wasn't alone as she expected.
Minerva stared at the young witch for a minute or two in suprise and then turned her attention back to her friend. "Miss Granger is your granddaughter?" she questioned.
"Yes," Agatha responded to her friend. She turned towards Hermione. "Did you have fun with Harry?"
"Yes," the young witch answered. "I managed to get him away from his moping about for a few hours and we both enjoyed our day away from the wizarding press nagging us to death."
Agatha chuckled at her granddaughter's dislike of the press. Hermione would never see herself as a hero no matter what the Daily Prophet proclaimed. "I'm afraid we will need to postpone our moive night for a bit. Do you mind fetching your special box?"
"Not at all Nan," she replied as she dropped a kiss to her grandmother's cheek. "Professor," she greeted with a smile as she dashed out of the room.
"Ma saved Miss Granger?" Minerva asked confused. "She is not a squib."
Agatha smiled sadly at her friend for a moment and then started the conversation she desperately wished she could have ignored forever. "Hermione isn't a squib but she was in danger just the same."
"How," the Headmistress asked trying to work the puzzle out in her mind.
"Simply by her parentage," her friend answered. "Your mother saved her from the steps of a muggle orphanage the same night she was left there. The same night you left her there to protect her from the ugly truth surrounding her conception and hide her from those that would use her to gain favor with their master or those that would want to destroy her simply for being sired by Voldemort."
Minerva's eyes widened in shock and her chest hitched painfully. Tears welled up in emerald eyes as the reality of her secrets flowed from the mouth of her dearest friend in the muggle world. Agatha moved over and sat beside of her visibly upset friend. "Your mother knew you were captured during the first war and recognized the signs of your pregnancy," Agatha explained. "She knew you would sacrifice everything to protect the child and she wanted to help you. Isobel knew you wouldn't accept her help if she revealed your secret so she moved on to helping protect your child."
"How," Minerva asked shakily.
"Isobel had a house elf follow you throughout your pregnancy. The elf alerted her when you left the baby at the orphanage and she quickly snatched up the baby. Isobel brought the baby to me and explained the situation or what she knew. She knew you would never search for the child, for fear of harming her, so Isobel made sure the child would know who you were."
"Hermione knows," Minerva asked startled by the thought. Fear of the girl's rejection prompted Minerva to abruptly stand and rush to the door. She grabbed the doorknob only to have it remain firmly closed.
"I always have," the young witch answered as she stood silently at the far corner of the room with her wand out. "Please don't run from me."
"You must despise me," Minerva uttered brokenly as she crumpled to the ground in her desperation.
Hermione smiled sadly at the broken witch before her. "Quite the opposite in fact," she answered as she steadily made her way to Minerva. "I am grateful you gave me the chance to be judged by my merit rather than my parentage."
Minerva turned her tear streaked face to the young witch, her daughter, in suprise. "I only wanted to protect you," she whispered sadly.
"I know," Hermione said with smile. "How about we move back to the couch?"
Minerva merely nodded and allowed the girl to help her to her feet and guided her back to the couch. She noted Hermione sat down next to her.