September 1990
Hermione Granger fancied herself to be a rather intelligent child. All of her teachers awarded her extra points on her tests, and her mother always said that she'd attend an "excellent university" one day. Indeed, the curly-haired girl was quite proud of herself.
On this particularly sunny morning, Hermione had celebrated her eleventh birthday. Her parents had surprised her with a trip to the planetarium she'd wanted to visit for months. After that, they'd driven into London and bought numerous new books and a leather backpack to carry them all in. Hermione thought it was the prettiest bag in the whole world. She especially liked the sparkly star on the back of it, reminding her of her fantastic time at the planetarium.
"Hermione, love – could you come down for a second?"
Hermione looked up from the new book she was reading, marking the page before making her way downstairs. "What is it, mum?" She asked as she reached the living room, her two parents looking quite distracted by something on the worn coffee table in front of them.
"Sit down, love, your father, and I have something to tell you." Her mother began, and Hermione eagerly sat down in the comfortable seat across from the pair. "This letter here has just arrived." Her mother handed Hermione a very fancy looking envelope with a red wax seal on the back.
"It's for you. No matter what you make of all of this, we'll always support you, love." Her father spoke up, his serious voice causing Hermione to scrunch up her freckled nose.
Her mother gestured for her to open the mysterious letter and the young girl proceeded to carefully break the seal, curious to see what her parents were so worried about. "We received a similar letter yesterday; this is a very serious matter, my love."
Anxious about its content, Hermione pulled the letter from the heavy envelope. "Dear Miss Black, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?" She read out loud, frowning at the unfamiliar name. "Who's this Miss Black they're talking about?" She asked, confusion written all over her face.
Her mother took a deep breath, her pale hands tightly wrapped around her husband's own.
"You are, love."
She felt as if someone had ripped their old rug from under her chair and swallowed her whole. Hermione Granger was a smart girl; she knew what her mother was telling her. "I'm…adopted?" she asked, tears threatening to fall from her amber eyes that looked so different from her parent's own pale ones.
"We wanted to tell you when you were a little older, but now with you receiving that letter…"
Her father began, but Hermione interrupted him, "So, you're not my real parents?"
"No, but you're still our daughter, dear, and nothing will ever change that fact." Mrs Granger said while leaning forward, pulling her little girl into a tight embrace.
Hermione's arms moved as if on autopilot and her cheeks stung from the strained smile she refused to drop. "I know Mum, I love you too. Both of you." She murmured. Hermione Granger was a determined child. If she just studied hard enough and learned all there was about Hogwarts, her parents will surely continue to love her.
On the other side of London, the furious screeching of one Madame Black could be heard throughout the entire stately townhouse. Grey hair threatening to spill from her carefully arranged updo, the woman traced her spindly fingers over the new name below the charred spot where the face of her oldest son had once been.
"Kreacher! Summon my father-in-law immediately!" She hissed at the cowering elf trailing behind her, the creature deeply bowing to his Mistress once before vanishing with the snap of his bony fingers.
Walburga Black felt anger overwhelming every other clear thought in her mind, the name of her supposed granddaughter burning itself into the back of her head. "How dare that filthy, muggle-loving traitor-" She started, her breath hitching when her eyes wandered over to the portrait of her younger son. "Why couldn't she have been yours? How is this worthless boy still bringing shame to our noble house after so many years?" Still deep in thought, the seething woman nearly missed the expectant cough from the elderly wizard leaning on his intricately carved staff at the entrance of the room.
"What did your elf summon me for Walburga? I don't have all day." His pale eyes wandered over the dishevelled form of the upset woman, taking in her tangled hair and scarlet cheeks. It was rare to see a lady of her standing in such an exceptional state of disarray.
"Arcturus! come and see for yourself what that useless son of mine has done now." Perfectly manicured fingers pointed at the spot below Sirius Black's name, and his interest piqued the older Black stepped forward.
"How come she's just appeared now?" He scowled at the newest addition to their family tree.
"That's your first question?" Mrs Black asked incredulously, but Arcturus Black just tutted at the angry woman, not appreciating the tone she was using while addressing the head of the family.
She immediately pulled herself back together, drawing her wand and fixing her hair before turning back to the older wizard. Even though her father-in-law was well into his seventies, the man did not look a day over sixty. He wore his dark hair neatly pulled back with a velvet bow and his face was free from the usual marks of time except for the deep creases around his eyes and mouth. "They must have hidden her trace. The ministry recently registered every magical child heading for Hogwarts this year." Mrs Black spoke, sounding rather calm and collected now. "Wasn't her mother's family killed during one of the earlier raids?"
"Indeed, I remember reading about the McKinnon's in the prophet." Calculating eyes wandered over the name of his supposed great-granddaughter.
Mrs Black crossed her arms, her crimson painted lips tightly pressed into a thin line. "Not a mudblood at least. I couldn't bear the thought of any more filth tainting the name of our great house."
Mr Black hummed in agreement, stepping away from the wall and heading towards the fireplace on the other side of the room. "The McKinnon's weren't part of the sacred twenty-eight, but it's better than nothing, I suppose." The wizard stated, clearly not impressed with his grandson's choice for the mother of the child.
Walburga followed the man to the other end of the room, curious about what he was planning now. " She should be here with us. Who'd dare to hide a Black?" She asked, feeling anger once again welling up in her chest.
Her father-in-law turned around, his pale eyes locking with her amber ones. "We shall find our momentarily." And with that, he threw some floo powder into the fireplace and stepped into the green flames. "Ministry of Magic." He spoke clearly, before vanishing.
Mrs Black eagerly followed the man, ready to wreak havoc on whoever dared to oppose the most noble and ancient house of Black, going as far as stealing away one of their own.
Hermione was startled awake by the scream of her mother. Before she could so much as move, someone painfully grabbed her arm, ignorant of her terrified yelp. "No! Get away from me! Mum, Dad!?" The young girl's frightened voice echoed through the dark house. Scarcely clad in one of her old pyjamas, Hermione struggled to get out of the older man's grip.
She helplessly watched an older woman point a thin stick at her parent's immobile forms. Her father's mouth was opened wide as if he was calling after his sobbing daughter.
"Cease your struggling girl, all will be explained, Walburga, come!" The scary man grumbled, his hand on her wrist tightening after he felt her pulling her legs back to escape his bruising grip.
"The audacity of that man. Filthy, disgusting muggles!" The woman in the dark robes screeched, the pointy thing in her right hand still glowing menacingly in the darkness.
Hermione craned her neck to see what the woman was doing to her parents, but her other captor suddenly pulled her closer to him, and before she could protest, the world around her grew blurry. Hermione felt as if her insides were being turned upside down. She quickly shut her eyes in hopes of getting rid of the nausea.
When Hermione opened them again, she found herself standing in a dimly lit corridor, her hands tightly grasping at the older man's burgundy robes. Hastily pulling away from her captor, she nearly stumbled over her own feet as he unexpectedly let go of her as well.
"Where am I?" She asked, cold fear settling in her weary bones.
"You will only speak when spoken to, child. Kreacher! Tea for the tree of us." The man spoke calmly.
Hermione's breath hitched. What was happening?
"My precious granddaughter, living with filthy muggles, fate is truly a cruel mistress." The strange woman from before suddenly spoke up behind her, and Hermione felt her heart skip a beat. Slowly she turned around to look up at the woman who'd just called Hermione her granddaughter. No, her life was not going well at all…
Found this half-finished story in one of my old folders…I'll update as often as I can…check out my other story – The place we call home.
This story is going to be quite dark and unhappy in the beginning. Walburga wasn't known for her nurturing nature towards her own children, so I don't believe for a second that she'd do a 180 with Hermione. The only Blacks from the previous generations still alive are Walburga and Arcturus...To answer one reader's comment: Canon book characters like Sirius & Andromeda are still alive and kicking as well of course xoxo