One Floo Under, a plot bunny I can't use.
-Number Seven-
Brightest Witch
Hermione let out a very undignified snort at Draco Malfoy's latest attempt to put Harry down. If either Harry or Draco had been inclined at all that way, she'd have assumed that Draco was trying to start up something romantically. The thought of Draco Malfoy attempting less confrontational methods of wooing Harry had been too much for her to keep a straight face.
"Damn mudblood," grumbled Draco, briefly turning his attention from the current Harry-baiting. "Getting up early and singing to the sunrise like some mudbird."
"What?" asked Hermione Granger, not surprised that her morning ritual had been gossiped about. No, she really wasn't sure she'd heard correctly.
"Mudblood," repeated Draco Malfoy. "Or 'mudbird'?"
"What's that even mean?" asked Hermione, sounding amused.
Harry smirked. "He thinks you have two normal non-magical parents."
"What?" asked Hermione. Then she started to laugh.
"She's lost it," summed up Draco.
"Hey, Professor McGonagall," said Hermione loudly, also waving an arm to get the teacher's attention. "Malfoy just called my parents NORMAL muggles."
The entire hall went eerily silent as Minerva McGonagall briefly snorted and laughed before she got control of herself again.
"Hermione Granger's parents? Did he use the term 'mudblood' then? Oh, I see," said Dumbledore before chuckling as if at some joke.
"What?" asked Draco, knowing this meant SOMETHING. "But... you said you were the first witch in your family."
"Well, I am," admitted Hermione, still smirking.
Draco tried to work that out. Honestly. Several of the staff were either smirking or shaking their heads. Two of his OWN House were looking at him with some odd expression he couldn't quite place. Professor Snape was facepalming again. Odd that, he seemed to be doing that a lot lately. If she was NOT a muggleborn or mudblood but neither of her parents were wizards and her family was devoid of magical lineage - what could that mean?
"You're descended from a squib?" asked Draco. It seemed the most likely thing. Squib cast out of their family, such things happened, but then a witch was born to the resulting line?
"No, not quite," said Hermione.
Daphne Greengrass came over to stand near Hermione. "My lady?"
THAT caused Draco's eyebrows to shoot towards his slicked-back hairline. Daphne Greengrass and a few others in Slytherin had been unusually polite and even downright solicitous of Granger for the most part - even though he had no idea why and the interactions had been few and far between.
"I've told you before, Miss Greengrass. I'm just a normal student here, my lineage besides the point, so treat me as such," said Hermione, apparently turning her full attention to the rice-and-lamb dish in front of her. Also the book titled "So You Want To Animagus?"
Daphne Greengrass nodded. "Of course, Miss Granger. Draco? Her mother is NOT someone to cross. She might be trying to live a perfectly normal life for a generation or two, as a sort of vacation, but you do not want to involve yourself with that side of the family."
"What?" asked Draco. Then he thought about veela and other creatures. It happened in old stories after all. A muggle and a veela got together, had magical kids, founded a line. Yeah, that could be it. Except that it didn't explain the reactions of the staff. "Uhm. Might I ask your mother's name?"
Hermione partly turned and smiled at him. "Brigid Granger. At least nowadays."
"I see," said Draco, clearly not seeing.
"Since Imbolc is approaching, would you allow me to honor her at that time?" asked Daphne Greengrass.
"What you do on your own is your own matter," said Hermione, turning back to the matter of her meal and the book beside her.
"I would suggest you read the Lebor Gabala Erenn," said Daphne softly to Draco as she began to return to her seat.
-much later-
"Well of course, I don't feel bad doing poorer than her," said Ron Weasley. "You really don't know WHAT she is?"
He was being pitied. By a Weasley. This was not amusing, but he swallowed his gall at the situation. "No. I looked up that book Greengrass suggested but it seems to always be checked out of the library."
"Malfoy, we don't like each other. Like, at all," summed up Ron Weasley. "I'm out of my league on that one though, and so are you. Her mum's name is Brigid."
"I know that," snapped Draco.
"Brigid of the Tuatha De Danann," said Ron. "Hermione's mother is the Celtic goddess of the dawn. Also smithing and a few other things. Harry's a hero or some such. According to Hermione he has a destiny and some other stuff, but apparently that's enough for the daughter of a goddess to think her mum's family is going to approve of him. He's no good at poetry though, so maybe not. Apparently poetry's a big thing."
Draco scowled at the redhead. He didn't have to make up something stupid like that.
-much much later-
Severus Snape was many things, by his own reckoning as well as that of others. He was sarcastic, had a temper, was dismissive for the most part of muggles like his father, stubborn, and prone to ignoring things he didn't want to face. He was not, however, stupid.
He knew from a very shaken McGonagall's report back when she'd gone off to let a muggleborn family's know about their daughter going to Hogwarts that the muggle family was not entirely muggle after all.
He knew from lore that humans, whether wizard or not, tended to form bonds with and mate with various other species. He was a bit of a prude in some respects but during his teenage years he'd read about such things like many other young men. Kitsune, yukionna, and ryu (which were often called dragons but were more celestial messengers) in the Orient. Fae of various types in Europe. Hags and vampires and veela and many other things in England itself. In tales from ancient Babylon through Greece and Egypt and on into modern times there were tales of gods and goddesses who had relationships with mortals that resulted in offspring. Some of these tales had raised an eyebrow as there were subtle differences from the versions that muggles circulated. Such as Zeus being less of a womanizing bastard and more someone who wanted humanity lifted out of their current squalor by fathering heroes. And Hera was less about jealousy and more about having a completely different, and less meddlesome, view on the relationship between deity and humanity.
As for the Norse, it was quickly seen as almost a competition. Despite being married to each other at the time, there were stories about Sif and Thor getting into a competition about how bloody many semi-divine offspring resulted. (Thor won, but ended up consigned to a couch in his own manor for a century.)
Still, while it wasn't exactly unknown (though frequently hidden) for a wizarding family to have a nonhuman or two in their family tree. It was frowned upon, and there was frequent discrimination against such, but it was hardly unknown. Filius Flitwick was an example, having both human and goblin in his immediate ancestry.
Therefore, after the initial shock of seeing his fellow Professor taking out a bottle of Scotch during a meeting with the Headmaster, he listened and understood precisely what was being stated.
The goddess of the dawn and healing and smithcraft (among other things) had settled down with a muggle dentist who apparently had a gift for poetry. And, among other things, had apparently learned a bit of runecraft. So. Neither father nor mother fit the traditional definition of muggle, though neither was wizard or witch in the traditional sense. Also apparently, the mortal father had been using a bit of runecrafting in the field of dentistry for decades with neither the muggle world or wizarding world being any the wiser. Only minor things, but it had given the dentist a reputation amongst the muggles as "a bit odd but if nobody else can get your teeth fixed - he'd be the go-to" or something to that effect.
Therefore the mortal and goddess had a fair amount of money, a decent house, and could take their young daughter on vacation. Minerva had seen pictures. Rio, Cancun, the Shining Fields, Dachau, and so on.
Dachau had been one particular telling point. Considering the Dark Lord's usual political stance and the inclusion of that site as a "field trip" - Severus Snape had absolutely no doubt what the little girl's reaction would be to learning of such.
Severus Snape had therefore come to a conclusion early on. While the various gods and goddesses never involved themselves directly in a purely mortal conflict - their spawn were usually in the thick of it. Hermione, daughter of Brigit, might just reject Dumbledore's side if given cause. She was about as likely to join Voldemort's side though, as he was to be crowned Queen of England.
At that thought, Severus Snape gave a little snort of amusement.
"Miss Granger, you get no points for this essay."
You'd think from her gobsmacked expression that he'd just bounced a bludger off her face. Gratifying.
His voice was loud enough that the entire room could hear, and BECAUSE this girl was WHAT she was, he explained. Besides, it might help with some of the various dunderheads he was forced to teach.
"The assignment was a one-foot essay on the preparation of bubotuber pus. One-foot." Severus held up a parchment scroll and let it unfurl, bouncing once off the floor and unrolling a further five feet in addition. "You were warned previously. Potion preparation is exacting. Any changes to the process will affect the finished product. I also have to read dozens of these things. Which is why this is a fail - failure to follow directions is not acceptable in the least in my class. Ten points from Gryffindor as well."
Ah, now she looked indignant. Time to indicate she wasn't being singled out.
"If it is any consolation to you, Miss Granger, I am having the exact same conversation with at least four from Ravenclaw. I will also give you the same bit of advice. Have one of your associates go over your essay and remove the excess. A different eye will catch things you do not. On the other hand, we have Mister Weasley who attempted to write in extra-large lettering just to take up available space. Laziness is also not to be tolerated. Another ten points from Gryffindor."
Spread the misery. Some people attempted to spread their joy and share happiness. He didn't have much in the way of joy or happiness so he'd spread sarcasm and misery, of which he had ample supply.
- flashback -
Minerva McGonagall strode confidently up to the front door of the residence with confidence. It was important to project confidence and self-control, especially around the muggle parents who would be prone to panic attacks at the very least.
She came to the iron-wrought gate of the residence, where one could look along the short path to the front door, and paused as a feeling of something-not-quite-right intruded upon her calm. After looking at the gateway, she experienced her first indication that this would NOT be like the last hundred or so meetings with muggle parents and prospective students that she'd had.
There was a runic array, of the Viking style from what she could see. Well done too - silvery metal lines against the black iron. Wardings against hostile intent most prominent, followed by one of their wheel-designs and wardings against...
The Professor cocked her head as she followed the line through the twists around the gate. Here was a warding against evil. Against the dead. And against solicitors, salesmen, and prosletizers. Interesting. What was this - "Speak Friend And Enter" bit here?
Minerva McGonagall considered that briefly, straightening, and with a start realized that there was now someone standing on the other side of that fence.
"If you were seeking me, you have found me, though you may soon wish you had not," said the woman with bushy hair that seemed to move in a breeze despite the complete lack of anything like a wind today.
"I am Professor McGonagall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," said the Professor, trying to take back control of the situation.
"Oh?" said the woman, squinting for a moment. Then she seemed to relax and a smile bloomed instead. "Ah. Good. You're right on time. Always nice when someone keeps proper time. Do come in, child."
Minerva blinked as the gate swung open and started following the woman automatically before those softly spoken words properly penetrated. "'Child'?"
"Hmmm, yes. Everything is relative, as I believe that Einstein fellow said. Or are relatives. Or something." The woman walked into the now-open doorway of her home. "I'm afraid Ted is at work right now. But I do believe a spot of tea and a few of those Jammie-Dodgers would aid this conversation a bit."
"Ah. Yes." Minerva followed the woman in.
A teaset had been put out, very old but well-maintained. There was a bottle of scotch next to one chair.
"Just in case. Some people could use a little dollop at some point. Though I imagine you're of sturdier material, yes?" said the woman whose hair seemed to still be moving in a breeze that didn't disturb anything around her.
"Mum? Oh."
"You must be Hermione Granger then," said McGonagall. She was a bit grateful that something was going according to plan.
"She's here to tell us about Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry and how you'll be attending," said Brigid Granger.
"Oh? Does that mean I can finally get my wand?" asked Hermione. "And meet the Prophesied Hero? It'll be nice to finally get to start studying something besides runecrafting and sigils and the like."
"Runes is an advanced course," automatically responded McGonagall. "You're already studying it?"
"Minerva McGonagall, you don't seem to know the situation at all," said Brigid, shaking her head sadly as she poured tea. "I am Brigid."
"Yes. Brigid Granger," agreed Minerva McGonagall.
"True, but specifically I meant Brigid." The light shifted, becoming somehow fuzzier. Wind whipped around the kitchenette with the smell of pines and deep forests taking on an almost solid presence. Brigid seemed to loom somehow without growing or shifting her position. "Brigid of the Tuatha De Danaan. Brigid of the Dawn. Daughter of the Dagda. The Triple-Aspected of Smithing and Flame and Hearth."
"Oh," said Minerva McGonagall. "I thought you were married to Bres."
Brigid waved that aside. "Died. Apotheosis. Seperated. It happens. Consequence of lifetimes spanning millenia, some say. We'll probably get back together after another century or two. Thor, over on the Norse side, has been known to do that. So has his wife Sif. I won't even get into those Greek chappies."
"Quite," said Minerva McGonagall, finding the tea up to the standards one would expect. "Zeus has quite a reputation."
"Oh, not just Zeus," said Brigid with a smirk. "Hera just has a tendency to smite people who went on about HER proclivities. Worse temper than even her husband."
- End Flashback -
Minerva poured a shot of whiskey into her tea, shaking her head at the memory. Of all the visits to "muggleborn" households she'd done - THAT one had quickly stuck out from the rest. Having an afternoon tea was rare enough, getting an earful of gossip of the various deities and their antics had been an entirely different experience.
Minerva turned her attention back to the grading of papers, setting young Hermione's essay aside with a note to stick to the assigned amounts. Bad enough she had all these essays - when she asked for a three foot essay and got twelve it was a sign that someone had to learn to stick to the instructions. ESPECIALLY if she was going to be as powerful a witch as her lineage indicated.
- break -
Lord Voldemort stared at the Death Eater, finally grinning after a few moments.
The Death Eater, Rookwood, began relaxing.
"Crucio!"
Lord Voldemort kept it up for a few moments, then released his subordinate. He even gave a few more moments specifically to let that subordinate stop gasping. "Does anyone want to tell me WHY going after Granger's mother and attacking her is a BAD idea?"
"Because, by ancient treaties, the gods do not directly get involved with purely human activities, My Lord," came the smooth voice of Lucius Malfoy. "Hunting them down and attacking them, such as with Mister Rookwood's suggestion of trying to steal her power - would cross that line. At which point we have at the very least drawn the ire of the Tuatha De Danaan upon us. At worst - we have other pantheons as well getting involved."
"Look, Augustus," said Lord Voldemort to his recently-punished minion. "I can work with crazy. Psychopath, sociopath, crazy - these are just words. Stirring up that hornet's nest? No. THAT is insane. Now, the daughter? She's vulnerable, she's involved, she's mortal, she can be a target. If you kill her there's a chance she might ascend to become a goddess but then she can't get involved much like her mother. If not, she's still dead. Potter though - he's the one in the Prophesy and I have to kill him myself."
"I see, My Liege, I thank you for your wisdom," gasped Rookwood.
"Now, the father. The father we can kill, but probably won't," said Lord Voldemort. "After all, he's just a muggle and of no consequence. The dawn-goddess would eventually head back to her people. Problem is, there's no guarantee that the goddess wouldn't get hit with a stray spell if you go attacking him and then we're back to facing the Celtic pantheon. And if the other pantheons get involved, bad to worse."
"Especially those Norse," agreed Wormtail.
"We can and will prevail in the wizarding world," said Lord Voldemort. "Don't overcomplicate things."
If more than one of the Death Eaters rolled their eyes at that comment coming from the Dark Lord, they were behind their masks and concealed. Because the certainty of being repeatedly Crucio-ed was evident even to them.
- break -
just an idle thought about the repeated use of "brightest witch of her generation" being used in various fics to describe Hermione.