Hermione Granger tapped her foot on the dark marble of the Office of Familial Magical Matters lobby, her frustration and curiosity both growing in measured lengths as each minute went on. Infamous for her punctuality, she was not accustomed to being kept waiting by her Ministry colleagues. But she also wasn't pulled from her station in Sydney by the Minister of Magic, her friend and boss Kingsley Shacklebolt, to report for urgent matters with no context either.

Typically, she knew weeks in advance when she'd need to return for a meeting in London and she'd always known the purpose of the meetings; usually they'd be at her request to push a new effort in front of the Wizgamont. But today was different and Hermione did not like going into any situation without knowing at least something about it.

She'd been in Australia for the past two years, leaving the UK and her friends behind following the Battle of Hogwarts to find her parents and fix their memories. After a year on the run, she wanted nothing more than to hug them and tell them how much she loved them. After a few days of trying to reverse the charm herself, she enlisted help. When the healers at Prince Hill Hospital informed her that her memory charm was interacting with an unknown older spell and that the reversal process would take time, Hermione passed on her repeat year at Hogwarts, taking her N.E.W.T.s independently by her parents' hospital beds. Shaklebolt offered her a position at the Ministry that allowed her to work remotely for weeks at a time. For the past two years, her life consisted of work, doctor's visits, and independent research, with sporadic visits to London for work. Although they saw each other when she returned for work and owled regularly, Hermione desperately missed her friends.

Since she received the summons last night, she'd wondered what business she could possibly have within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, let alone this family-focused office. The possibilities she'd constructed so far ranged from something terrible having happened to Harry to an unwelcome job offer moving her from her position within the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Just as she started to construct new, horrible possibilities, the door to the main office opened and a short brunette woman in black robes waved Hermione in.

"Miss Granger, thank you for coming in today. Lyria Gardner, Office Head. I understand you've had a long journey," the plump Ministry official greeted her, ushering Hermione into her small office. Hermione eyed the nearly empty bookshelf next to the door and the decorative plates on the wall with nearly equal discomfort.

"Yes," Hermione said shortly as she sat in the chair across the woman's desk. Usually she'd try to be more polite, but given the circumstances, she was eager to find out why she was here.

"Well, let's get right to it," said the official, reading Hermione's tone. She laid a small parcel, white and crumpled, in front of Hermione. "Typically, this is given to the witch or wizard it pertains to on their seventeenth birthday. However, on your seventeenth birthday, the Ministry had already been infiltrated by You-Know-Who's supporters -"

"Voldemort," Hermione interrupted, her irritation growing with the woman. "It's been two years. Please, stop giving a dead man power by not using his name."

"Quite right. Anyway, these packages are impervious from destruction and can only be unsealed by the witch or wizard in question," the official began to speak more rapidly as she launched into her explanation, clearly anxious. "No one knows the contents before the parcels are opened, except for the ministry official who created the folder and the witches and wizards who went through the process of having it made. Several of them went missing during, em, Voldemort's rise to power. My department suspected that those taken were connected to Death Eaters in some way, but they would have no way of knowing the contents of the packages. We only uncovered this package when the Aurors raided the Lestranges' hidden cottage outside Edinburgh last month. Full of other Dark artifacts, of course, but these were protected by wards that were apparently quite difficult to break. I believe your friends Harry Potter and Ron-"

"Sorry, but what exactly is the package? You've left that bit out," Hermione interjected again, feeling both annoyed by the woman's babbling and a bit guilty about her own bluntness.

"I think it would be better for you to just open it yourself, Miss Granger," the Office Head slid the bundle closer to her from across the desk. Hermionine chewed her lip nervously as she picked up the package, flipping it over to examine it. She tentatively pulled the twine, the knot holding the paper together undoing quickly. Out of the parcel erupted the form of a silver wolf, which evaded into mist with a loud howl. Hermione gasped in surprise, dropping the contents that were encased within.

"Merlin was - was that meant to happen?" Hermione exclaimed, shocked that such a graceful piece of magic had escaped from a forgotten, dingy exterior.

"Typically there is a familial symbol when the parcel opens, but I've never seen one so pronounced," Lyria Gardner, Office Head, nodded and made no move to help Hermione with the mess.

Familial magic was an area Hermione was unusually under informed in. She vowed to visit the library and research it after she figured out what exactly she was getting into before she picked up the pieces of parchment strewn across the desk and began reading. She read the pages in their entirety three times before lifting her gaze back to Lyria Gardner, Office Head. "Is there a way to confirm this?" Hermione asked the official, brown eyebrows knit and golden eyes wide. "This is just a sheet of paper, there is no proof," her voice cracked, the panic in her chest ringing clear in her words. The official took the pages and read themself, shaking her head and muttering to herself all the while.

"Yes, there is a spell to confirm all this. Before we get to that, do you have any questions?"

Hermione snorted at the question. Yes, she had several thousand questions, her thoughts swirling around her like a rough surf. She focused on a single one, a life raft in the chaos overtaking her: "How common is an adoption like this in the wizarding world Ms. Gardner?"

"Any adoptions in the wizarding world are typically closed and kept secret until the 17th birthday of the child," the witch started, avoiding Hermione's eyes.

"We both know that is not what I am asking."

"It is extremely uncommon for a magical child to be placed with muggles, but it has happened. However, we've never seen a case in which the child was placed with muggles they were not related to in some capacity. That is why it took us a full month to contact you - we were researching your parents. Or, your adoptive parents, to determine if they were squibs. We couldn't find any evidence, so we -"

"Stop. Please. I'd like to do the test as soon as possible."

"Very well. Stay here a moment, I will see if I can set it up for today," the woman shuffled out of the office. Alone again, Hermione shifted in her seat and felt tears well up. Adoptive parents. Her parents weren't her biological parents. Her whole life they'd lied to her. They adopted a witch and probably had no idea at all. It clicked in Hermione's mind - the mystery charm hindering their memory progress had to tie back to this. Whatever was keeping her from getting her parents back was likely done in connection with this adoption. Which posed even more questions, like were they even aware she was a witch? Were they willing to adopt her or were they forced? Did they even love her? Hermione suddenly felt the weight of a bowling ball on her chest and struggled to catch her breath. She knew she was spiraling into a panic attack and starting counting to regain control again. "1...2….3," she muttered to herself. While the frequency of her panic attacks had faded since they first appeared right after the war, she was no stranger to this feeling. "103...104….105…"

"675...676...677" Just as she started breathing normally again, the Ministry official opened the door and gestured for someone to come in behind her. Hermione strained her neck to see who it was. A nervous looking brunette wizard appeared, shooting Hermione a small smile.

"Lord Nott, welcome. Thank you for coming in so quickly," the Department Head greeted him. A flash of recognition at the name passed through Hermione as she stood to greet him, recalling him as an awkward, lanky classmate she'd rarely seen happy. The thin man loomed in the doorway, even taller than Hermione remembered him. She wondered if he had been briefed on the situation.

"Hermione Granger," she stuck out her hand, struggling to force her face from surprised to friendly. The slender man chuckled before returning the handshake.

"If there is anyone in this building who doesn't need an introduction, it would be you, Miss Granger. I'm Theo Nott. We were in the same year at Hogwarts, I'm not sure if you remember."

"Of course, you were especially talented in Potions. We took the N.E.W.T. level course together sixth year," Hermione found it easier to smile now, her anxiety mirrored in this wizard meant that she wasn't alone.

"That's right," he confirmed before shifting awkwardly. "So shall we…" he trailed off, looking to the official to guide them through the next steps.

"Right. I'll need a drop of blood from you both. I will perform the spell and we will go from there."

As the official pricked Theo's finger, Hermione studied him. She didn't know much about him. He was her year, Slytherin, and a bit of a loner. She remembered that he often sat with Draco Malfoy in class, but didn't take part in much of the bullying. She also recalled that his father was a Death Eater, one that had tried to kill her and her friends at the Department of Mysteries a few years ago. Outside of that, this boy she'd gone to school with for 6 years was a stranger.

She barely felt the prick, but watched her red blood pool with a fresh focus. Two years ago, her blood defined her in the wizarding world. It made her less than in the eyes of at least Theo's father, if not Theo himself. When she'd left for Australia, she thought she'd never have to concern herself with her blood outside of a medical emergency. But here it was, insistent that it define her again.

Hermione held her breath as the witch did the spell. Did Theo want a sibling? How would he deal with a classmate he barely knew thrust into his life, a threat to his inheritance? A muggleborn - she stopped herself. It was possible she wasn't even that anymore. She wasn't sure what to hope for.

"Half siblings, related through the Nott line," the witch's words echoed through Hermione's mind, which was blank for the first time in her life.