Hello my Lovelies,
I'm back, alive and writing. I have reposted every previous chapter for this story, as it desperately needed it. The only truly new content is at the end of the previous chapter, but I would definitely recommend re-reading from the beginning.
So sorry for the long wait. It has been a terribly busy year(s) filled with ups and downs that have taken me far away from my writing. Between buying a house, losing my mother, having a small mental breakdown, and completely changing careers, I am back. Like I said, it has been a tumultuous couple of years where I had a lot of growing up to do and a lot of new things to learn about life.
As always I appreciate your feedback.
Xo
zsarah.
May 6, 1974
Hermione's stomach was in knots, and she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. She took a steadying sip of the sweet ice wine Euphemia brought up from the cellar, as she sat once again at the kitchen table of the Potter home. Neither Euphemia nor herself were talking, choosing instead to listen to the good natured banter coming from the men at the end of the table as they attempted to bring some levity to their situation.
It was moments like this when she was appreciative and surprised by her father. They had known each other for just a few days, but he took care to notice when she needed time to think in silence. He had taken the burden of carrying conversation to pass the time, and Fleamont seemed content to go along with it. But from the sound of Euphemia's fingers ticking on the hardwood of the table she knew it wouldn't be long before she would have to speak up again.
She cleared her throat gently, Hector and Fleamont's conversation faded away and Euphemia's fingers stopped keeping beat with her heart rate.
"I'm sorry I showed you all that." She felt a lump grow in her throat and swallowed past it while keeping her eyes fixed to her wine glass. "I didn't know how else to tell my story, and none of that could have been easy," Here she met her father's eyes across the table. "For any of you."
To her surprise it wasn't Hector who replied to what she said, it was Euphemia who reached out to take her hand.
"You don't have anything to be sorry for. Yes, we are all a little shocked and still trying to process everything you've shown us, but you have us convinced and you have our support." She looked to her husband, not for confirmation, but in a show of unity. Fleamont simply nodded in response. A small smile gracing his lips.
Euphemia began to speak again, "As I don't think I'll have any questions for you until I have time to digest, what is it that we can do to help you?"
Hector was gaping at his friend. "Mia…" he breathed, "Thank you."
Hermione spared her father a look as she debated what to say.
"I wish we didn't have to ask anything of you, but the fact that you know the truth now opens up some opportunities that weren't previously available."
Hector just gave a slow nod as he picked up where she left off.
"Honestly, I'm a little out of touch with current events in Britain and we need to get to know the lay of the land, shall we say. Hermione, for all her many talents, doesn't have a political bone in her body. Our end goal is for her to secure the Defense Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts this fall. We have already rubbed shoulders with Horace, but that new Charms Master is a retired dualist who I have heard keeps up with the circuit. If we can get even a word of mouth referral from Flilus Flitwick to Dumbledore, it would be ideal."
Hermione jumped in here, "I also need to brush up on my dueling etiquette. Hector can only provide so much information, and what I can study in the time I have is limited. I can't risk losing points that could be avoided due to technicalities." She directed her next words to Fleamont, "I understand your father followed the circuits and that you know more than the rest of us about what I can expect."
Fleamont considered her words for a moment. "I can help, if you wish to meet tomorrow morning we can go over the lists and what to expect. Bring your registration information and we will give you a hand with your set up. From what I saw in your memories, you have the skill and power to go far, but you are right. If you can get your forms correct, you should be able to get a bye into the National tournament within 6 weeks if you compete in two to three rounds a week. If you keep a good record and put on a good show while participating in one bout a week following that, your numbers should be high enough to give you the influence you need." Fleamont tilted his head to address his wife, "Mia, are you still meeting up with Carmella this week?"
"I am seeing her tomorrow. And no, she won't be looking to sponsor anyone she doesn't know until after the initial rounds are complete. No matter how highly recommended." She gauged the confused looks from Hector and Hermione and expanded,
"Carmella Greengrass is the de facto head of the Greengrass family, and is well known for having an eye for dualists. Everyone she sponsors goes far, to the point where some have accused her of having the Sight. She was young Fillius' sponsor when he started out, and she hand picked him within the first weeks. She is elitist and traditional, but not in a malicious sense. She surrounds herself with the best and provides that to those she chooses. It was an uproar when she picked the little part goblin man, and many said she had finally lost her touch. But like everyone else who she decides is worth her while, he proved it. Spent 12 years winning almost every match he fought, before using that experience and the connections he forged on the circuit to get a true Mastery despite his origins.
"But you don't need to worry about a thing darling. Just get through the first couple of weeks, and participate in as many open matches as possible outside of mandated qualifiers. It will bring up your ranking enough to make your name known." Euphemia had a small smile on her face despite the tension that still hung in the air.
Hector's words were breathy as he placed a hand on Euphemia's shoulder, "Thank you both for your kindness and hospitality. I haven't been the best of friends to either of you over the past years, but you have never let me down. The debt we owe you is too large to repay, but we will do what we can nonetheless."
It was an emotionally drained, but significantly pleased Hermione that walked out of the floo of their townhouse late that night.
Though scrambled and improvised in the face of being found out, she could not have planned for a better outcome to being confronted as a liar by her best friend's grandparents.
Fleamont was the kind of man she could have imagined Harry growing up to be if he had the slightest chance of a normal life. He was calm and reserved, but one could see that his temperament was hiding a quick wand and a strong passion. She recalled the stories Hector told her about the little Gryffindor boy who would start fights with anyone and everyone who made even the slightest jape at his unusual name. She could see how that fire cooled to warm embers after embracing himself.
Euphemia, was a woman Hermione wished she could have known in happier circumstances. She was quite unlike anyone she had ever met before. The brash forwardness hid a careful and cunning mind. Euphemia was the kind of person who excelled at the social games that others played, and could enjoy them all the same.
As she sorted through her papers on her desk to find the forms she would share with Fleamont in the morning, she continued to go over her plan.
She had to arrive at the dueling center in Cardiff at 7am in 3 days time. She had to present her dueling kit, wand, and licensing for inspection and then take place in a single randomly drawn placement duel to begin the tournament. She laid out her registration package on the corner of the desk as she got ready for the night.
As she slipped beneath the covers she allowed her mind to focus back on the chant that had been her focus for so long. Identity, information, integration. Identity, information, integration. She was so close to her goal she could taste it. And with the flavour of hopeful victory, she fell into a dreamless sleep.
She awoke the next morning to the buzzing of the analogue alarm clock next to her bedside. She could just see the sky out her window lightening with the haze of dawn and though she felt rested, she felt she could stay in bed for hours longer.
Crawling out she tied the bloodstone around her neck again and dressed for the day in simple grey trousers a few decades dated and a long billowy sleeved white blouse that wouldn't look out of place on a Parisian model. She knew she would never get used to wizarding fashion's quirks of style dyssynchrony, but the loose clothes and simple, soft fabrics were something she would never trade for the world. They were clothes that were easy to move in which would allow her to practice her forms with Fleamont.
She placed her parchment-work inside her beaded bag, and tied it to her waist before making her way to the kitchen.
As she sat with her morning tea, Hector stumbled into the room wrapped in a house robe that had obviously seen better days. She charmed a mug of tea over to him and he fixed it while standing at the hob without saying a word.
After his first sip, his eyes cleared and he rumbled out a thank you and set to preparing breakfast. The smell of fried bread and bacon soon filled the air, and within minutes she had a bacon butty in her hands. Hector ate his standing against the counter while she picked at hers, paying more attention to her second mug of tea.
The silence of the morning was broken by Hector.
"Are you ready for your day with Fleamont?" His question was slightly stilted as if he hesitated over the words.
"I'm headed over in about half an hour. He said he would leave the floo open to us any time after eight if you wished to join." She wasn't sure if her father would be coming with her, as it hadn't been discussed the previous evening.
"I have to go to Gringotts first to settle a few accounts and reinstate the British branch as our primary bank. I'll set everything up so you have full access to the family assets and open a personal vault for your use. We'll need to pick up your kit this afternoon, so I'll make sure to withdraw the necessary funds. I'll meet you at the Leaky for a late lunch and we can shop after that. Say half one?"
She was momentarily stunned while her brain caught up with Hector's words, caught off guard as she was by Hector's generosity. Very few families allowed their heirs full access, and for a female scion it was almost unheard of. If she ever married and wished to retain her status as heir, there would have to be a carefully worded prenuptial agreement to keep her family's assets from merging with her partner's family.
She knew not to fight with Hector over this, so she just bowed her head in thanks, and reached out for his hand across from her.
After grasping his hand tightly she released it and stood from the table to bring their dishes to the sink; cleaning them with a quick series of charms she had been taught by Molly Weasley.
She retreated upstairs to finish readying herself for the day ahead. Her hair was twisted up with a long silver pin and charmed to stay in place. She grabbed the colourful over robe she had worn to the ministry the previous day and rested it over her shoulders.
Her father had somehow gotten ready in the minutes she had been gone, and was dressed for the day in a simple suit with a sand coloured wool robe. He stood beside the floo waiting for her.
Out of instinct she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before turning to grab a pinch of powder, but Hector caught her hand before it even reached the pot.
He looked her in the eyes as he began to speak, "I just want you to know that you are an incredible young woman. You have been through so much, and you have come out alive. I know that the dueling and the professorship are part of the plan, but I hope they are also something that you can enjoy. I know that isn't the focus right now, but after this is all over and you succeed," She opened her mouth to protest that nothing was certain.
"No." He interrupted her before she could even begin speaking. "You will succeed. Because I have seen enough of you to know you are capable of anything you set your mind to." His eyes turned pleading, "Please enjoy yourself with Flea today, He will do everything he can to prepare you and keep you comfortable, but don't be afraid to ask him anything you need"
She squeezed his hand in understanding. "I will." Feeling uncomfortable leaving with the strong emotions still lingering in the air, she stepped into the fireplace and turned with a jaunty salute, calling out, "Have fun with the Goblins." She dropped the powder and spoke clearly, "Potter Cottage!'' before her father had a chance to reply.
She landed a little harder than usual upon arrival, and saw that she was alone in the sitting room while a bell-like sound chimed out through the house signalling that she had just come through the floo.
Fleamont Potter walked through the door to the parlour dressed in casual trousers with his shirt sleeves rolled up. He had a neat pair of spectacles perched on his thin nose and his hair looked as though it had recently carried an electrical current.
"Come on through dear, Mia is just finishing her tea and then we will get started."
The dining room they had occupied the previous evening had the curtains thrown open to let in the mid morning sunlight that was an anomaly for this time of year. She could see an expansive garden filled with trees and flowers, as well as a small greenhouse. Further back in an open field, were a single set of wooden quidditch hoops, and a single file treeline that must mark the edge of the Potter's property. She could imagine Euphemia sitting at the window watching her son practice at those hoops while her husband cultivated the flora that was a significant part of his livelihood.
Euphemia was seated at what must be "her spot" dressed in pale blue day robes, sipping a cup of tea. Lit by the midmorning sun, her wild blond hair looked like spun gold. She stood and floated over to Hermione and kissed both her cheeks in greeting before returning to her seat. She gestured to the tea set in front of her.
"Can I offer you a cup dear, or do you two want to jump right into your plans?" Euphemia's voice was soft and warm and put Hermione's small social discomfort at ease.
"I would love a cup." She took the seat she had occupied the previous night at dinner, as her hostess poured her a cup and she accepted the offer of the small pitcher of milk, as she was idly stirring her tea, she noticed Euphemia examining her.
The blonde woman seemed prone to let silences linger just to the point of discomfort before speaking. "I am off to meet with Carmella Greengrass this morning. We are going over the final plans and finances for the Mungo's Gala. I will be sure to bring up your name, and she will look for you on the lists."
Hermione found herself struggling with the silence as they sipped their tea. "Do you have any advice for me when I eventually meet Madame Greengrass?" She hated the way her voice sounded so uncertain. After so many years she was nervous to meet new people and she had never been the most adept at social interactions to begin with.
"Nothing important you really need to know yet. If you acquire yourself in your bouts as well as I am sure you will, she will approach you first. Let her. Carmella likes to be in control." Euphemia had a small smile on her face as she spoke. "The only other warning I have for you now is that she will undoubtedly propose an arrangement between you and her eldest son."
Hermione's eyes widened and she set her cup down preparing to protest, Euphemia simply let out a breathy laugh as she raised a hand to hold off Hermione's words "He's a rather simple boy, a few years younger than you, and presently out of the country on his grand tour. She is using his absence to grow a list of sensible possible partners for him as she doesn't quite trust him to handle his life on his own, and she certainly isn't at the place where she can leave the family affairs in his hands when she is gone." Another giggle broke through Euphemia's control, "Just treat it like a kind thought, and turn her down gently. I know the boy, and he is unarguably nice, but from what I've seen of you, you would be terribly bored with him."
Hermione pondered this new information for a moment, "Will I be receiving any other offers like this? It is not something that is familiar to me."
"You may not receive too many offers, but your father certainly will. You are a young unmatched witch with skill and beauty, and these days we seem to be rather short on those. Most young women of this generation seem to be wallflowers, cradle-betrothed, or undesirable in some way to most suitors, either due to birth status or personality. So as a witch with what most would call prestigious breeding, and unrelated to most other families on the isle, you are a sought after commodity."
Hermione could feel her face twist in contempt, but Euphemia cut her thoughts off as seemed to be her style, "Don't worry about it too much dear. Your father will handle most of these inquiries, and leave any decisions up to you. It's not something to concern yourself over until you have achieved your goals." She set her empty china cup down, and rose to her feet, "Speaking of your goals, I'm off to leave you two to your planning, and to pave the way for the politics that will follow." She pressed a kiss to her husband's cheek and made for the floo in the entryway. Hermione heard her call out "Diagon Alley!" and a whoosh followed her departure.
She set her own mostly empty cup down and Fleamont beconned her into the study. He pulled two miniature chairs off the shelf and set them on the floor in front of Euphemia's desk and with a tap of his wand to each, they expanded to their full size.
They sat down and Fleamont began speaking, "First, how long do you want to spend on this today? I'm not sure exactly how much you want to go over, but we should be able to get the basics out of the way rather quickly."
She smiled warmly at him. He was an easy man to like, and she appreciated how to the point he was. "I'm planning on meeting my father for lunch at the Leaky at half one."
Fleamont's smile was warm, "Then let us get your registration out of the way, and make sure we have a story down that you're okay with them publishing. All new entrants have to submit a small bio for the lists to publish if they advance past the preliminaries. After that we can go over forms and penalties and any questions you have until lunch time."
Herminone pulled the stack of parchment out of her bag and set the whole pile on the desk in front of her. The form on top was a simple identification form with a note at the end to provide a publishable biography of no more than 200 words on a separate sheet.
The questions ranged from simple, her name and date of birth, to the more complex task of writing her qualifications and experience.
Over the next two hours, they had a workable submission for both the application and a biography, that while being suitably complementary, was also filled with enough vague references that she would not get caught in a lie trying to prove anything in it.
After they were through with that, Flea as he insisted he be called, motioned for her to stand. With a series of waves and flicks of his wand, the chairs were once again shrunk and placed on the shelf, and the desks were pushed back against the wall, opening the room up.
"There are several different kinds of organized duels, and we are using that to draw attention away from the fact that you are unfamiliar with Continental. As you have spent most of your life fighting, we are going to paint a picture of someone who spent time participating in Colonial Dueling as it is known here. The key difference between our National circuit here and in France, and the more informal dueling you see in the rest of the world is when the duel ends, and how the winner is determined. You are used to dueling to incapacitation, with no stops due to hits. Here, you will be stopping the duel and resetting with every hit that is scored."
Hermione ordered that information in her head, and grabbed a spare sheet of parchment to write down what was being said. While Flea continued,
"After wand inspection, the official will cast an enchantment over each dueler to show when a hit has been scored. The duel begins with a bow at two paces apart, each opponent will then walk 10 paces to either side of the ring. The match begins with the officiant's call. There is a requirement for each participant to cast offensively every thirty seconds, or that point is forfeit. A point is scored when a spell, hex classification or above lands. Jinxes do not score a point unless they cause the dueler to drop their wand. At the officiant's call, the point is scored and the duel begins again at 10 paces. This continues until one dueler scores 4 points, or in the event of a simultaneous hit, ending in a tie, up to 7. With me so far?"
Hermione looked over her notes and summarized, "Before every duel, wands are inspected and enchantment cast. Bow at two paces, proceed to 10 and begin when called. Points are scored for offensive hits, or lack of offensive action. Duel resets at 10 paces without the bow, and continues up to 4 points unless there is a tie."
"Correct," Fleamont's praise brought a feeling of pride within her. "You're a quick study," He summoned a book from the shelf, and held it to her. The small codex simply stated Dueling Etiquette in the British Isles 6th Ed. 1970. "The 4th chapter in here goes over banned spells in the ring. It covers the expected; no black arts, mind magic, or unforgivables. But there are also a couple of specific spells you should know not to use. Primarily anything that is specifically meant to kill. Organ Rotting, Blood Boiling, Entrail Expelling. The 6th chapter goes over specific penalties, I would advise committing as much of that to memory as possible. The book is my gift to you, it is the most recent update and they tend to put out a new copy every 10 years or so unless there is a major development or change that needs to be made."
"I appreciate the gift," Truer words had never been spoken, as even after all these years, she was a bibliophile to the core.
The rest of the morning was spent in a similar manner with Fleamont walking her through the proper forms for a bow, and spending more time going through the penalties and how they could be acquired.
She felt as though her head was full to bust with the new information and when she heard the Potter's large grandfather clock chime one o'clock she was pleased with the progress they had made.
Together they seemed to make the silent decision to gather up all of Hermione's parchments. She flicked her wand and the stack was bound and shrunk before being placed in her enchanted bag.
"Would you like to join us for lunch? I'm sure Hector would love to spend more time with you now that we are back in Britain full time." Hermione was also selfishly hoping to get to know this man better outside of her mission. He just reminded her so much of her long lost friend.
"That sounds delightful, I'll just grab my cloak and we can head out"
Stepping out of the floo and into the Leaky Cauldron was always a unique experience. Some things remained the same, the smell of floo powder, ale, and whiskey in the air no matter the time of day for one. But some things were completely new every time you stepped inside. The tables never seemed to be in the same place two days in a row, and the number of booths against the far wall seemed to fluctuate just enough that if not for the mutable nature of most wizarding architecture, she would have questioned her own sanity.
The fireplace flared green and she took a few steps forward to get out of the way as Flea stumbled out behind her, and though he kept his feet, it was a near thing. As he brushed the soot from his cloak, she squinted through the murky light of the pub to find her father.
She found him sitting in the furthest booth from the floo, and her eyes met his as he waved her over to join him. Flea motioned her ahead of him as they waded through the tables just beginning to empty after the lunch time rush. As they approached she saw that her father was not alone, and the rounded booth had hidden both Euphemia, and another witch with steel grey hair tied low on her neck and features that could only be described as handsome.
Hector stood from the edge where he was sat and motioned for her and Flea to slide in. She allowed Flea to go first, and after he sat next to his wife, she joined next leaving enough room for her father to join them.
Before Hector had the chance to play host as she was expecting, the woman she had yet to meet broke protocol.
"Hello dear, I hear we will be seeing you at dueling opens on Thursday." Her voice was sweet and soft, contrasting with the sharp edges of her appearance, "Carmella Greengrass, it truly is a pleasure to meet you." Her hand extended across the table, and Hermione took it with some tension, having not expected to make the acquaintance of this woman yet.
"Hermione Dagworth-Granger. I hear you're a name of some renown on the circuits."
With a soft chuckle, Carmella released her hand. "I used to rank quite highly on the national boards, but now I am simply a hobbyist looking to inspire the next generation."
Euphemia let loose an undignified snort, "If you're simply a hobbyist, I'm simply a housewife." She looked at Hermione, "As I mentioned before, Carmella is the single largest sponsor of the sport on the Isles. What I didn't mention is that she could still compete and win if she so desired."
They were interrupted by Tom the barkeep, inquiring their orders and soon Hermione had her hands gripping a large steaming mug of hot spiked butterbeer. She couldn't quite keep the smile of pleasure off her face as she took her first sip and let the nostalgia wash over her. The two men and Euphemia had half pints of ale in front of them and Carmella was sipping on a gillywater while they waited for Tom to bring their luncheons to their table.
"So what do you want to get out of the circuit this season?" Carmella brought the discussion back to Hermione's participation in the upcoming duels.
Licking a small bit of froth off her lip, Hermione glanced at her father before answering. This was the first true test of her story, and an important one at that.
"I am primarily competing to earn my mastery with the defense guilds. I wish to teach at Hogwarts, and I should be able to reach the rating required by the guild before mid July when applications to the post are due."
Carmella's short manicured fingernails tapped on her glass, "From what Euphemia has told me, you are quite skilled with a wand, why would you waste such talents teaching the ungrateful masses of this country's children?"
Pushing aside the momentary desire to spew forth the many reasons she had to be at Hogwarts to save the world, she instead focused on the personal reasons hiding behind all her machinations.
"From what I have read, Hogwarts has been sorely lacking in quality Defense instruction over the last decade. I believe I can change that despite the rumours of a curse on the position. There is also the fact that, though I am skilled with a wand, academia is my true passion. I hope that after a few years of hard work whipping the curriculum into shape, I can settle into a quiet life of teaching and research."
"Well then, I hope to see you excel in the opener on Thursday. It would be quite a coup to be able to be able to claim sponsorship over two of Hogwarts most esteemed professors." Carmella's eyes were dancing and she looked to Hector. "If she's half as good as Euphemia has talked her up to be, don't waste your gallons on a top of the line kit today. I should be seeing her in Hebridean by next week."
Talk turned the gala on Friday as their Tom floated over their plated lunches. Euphemia and Fleamont carried the conversation as Hermione tucked into her pork pie with a singular focus, allowing her mind to wander through her plans. She realized that she had missed something in the conversation when Hector nudged her leg with his and she looked up to see all eyes fixed on her.
"My apologies, I seem to have missed something." She looked searchingly between everyone at the table, before fixating on her father.
Hector's rumbly chuckle set off everyone else as Euphemia shook her head with mirth, "I'm taking you to get robes for the Gala, as your father's suit is evidence he is not to be trusted with such things."
She looked over her father's brown tweed suit, and not seeing any problem with it, stared beseechingly at Euphemia.
"Exactly my point darling. Neither of you are to be trusted to dress yourselves for Friday night so while I collect the robes I ordered weeks ago, we will be putting in a rush order with Twilfit and Tattings. You have too much of your father in you for me to trust that you won't just show up in whatever caught your eye from Ophilia's collection. We can't have you making the wrong impression. Between the opener on Thursday and the Gala on Friday you will be the talk of town."
As lunch wound to a close and Carmella argued with Hector over the bill, Euphemia took Hermione's arm and steered her towards the toilets.
"We're just running to the loo, we will meet you outside shortly." Euphemia's words were waved off and Hermione humoured her in allowing herself to be shepherded into the lavatory.
Euphemia didn't let go of her arm as she slowly revealed her wand and cast several detection and privacy spells in quick succession before her wand vanished into her sleeve again.
"I'm sorry if I steam rolled over you a little bit, but I wanted to talk about the Gala briefly before we meet with my tailor. We are going to be the center of gossip for the next few weeks, and I want to let you know what to expect so you do not act surprised."
Hermione felt a little insulted at the suggestion that she could not behave accordingly, but she pushed that down and took a breath. Mentally acknowledging Euphemia's expertise was above hers in this matter her words came out a bit shorter than they normally would have. "What do I need to know?"
"There is going to be a goodly number of people at the shop. In your previous life experience you likely would have never been warmly welcome in a place like Twifit and Tattings. It caters to old blood and money, providing the best for those perceived as the best. I would not describe the shop as openly prejudiced, but the classism will be openly apparent. You just need to act as though you know you belong there. We will be offered tea in their parlour while we consult on the design of your and your fathers robes. Make your preferences known, but let Ms. Tatting know that you appreciate her experience and input. Don't make any promises, but it might be wise to make mention that you will be stopping by to update some of your casual wardrobe as well." Euphemia pulled her wand and dispersed her charms as they made their way out.
"I have full faith in you dear, but this is new territory and I do only want to help." Hermione's feet halted in her steps and she couldn't stop herself from pulling the older witch into a short but warm hug.
Neither of them mentioned the slightly wrought thank you that slipped from Hermione's lips, as they walked out the door of the pub.