The Heiress

by She

What's the heir of Voldemort to do? So much evil, so little time...

2. No Place Like Home

THE HEIRESS 2: No Place Like Home

Ronald Weasley stood at his window, glaring at the small purple egret perched on its sill. Hermes, the egret, uncurled his long neck and stretched it up expectantly, unaware that the tall red-haired boy was debating if he should strangle the messenger or not. At last, the boy heaved an exasperated sigh and patted the bird on its head, then reached into his pocket and withdrew some Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans. He hesitated, wondering if the beans would be a suitable snack for an Egyptian egret, but Hermes solved his quandary by snatching the beans from his open palm and gulping them down in a single swallow. Ron sighed and sat down at his cluttered desk. Books were spread open, anchored by statues of his favorite Chudley Cannon players. He had been determined to catch up on his homework so he could spend every available moment with Hermione when they got back from summer break.

Hermes chirped expectantly. "Feathery git, you should be tired." Ron snarled. The bird squeaked again. Ron grabbed a quill and yanked a sheet of parchment from beneath his open Guide to Transfiguration. He began to scrawl the date, August 30^th, and a greeting, Dear Hermione. Then he glared at the sheet. What was he going to say? He had hoped, even though he knew it wouldn't happen, that she would be there this week when Harry arrived. Or before, so they could spend some time snogging by the pond in back of the garden. Now he would have to wait another week. But that wasn't what really bothered him. His main grievance was Bill. His own brother, who had always been his hero. Why did Bill have to be the one who was bringing her back to Hogwarts?

Ron knew the answer. Bill had been working with Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, contacting allies and trying to win over neutral parties to rally against Voldemort. Given the fact that Hermione was Voldemort's sole magical heir, it was natural that Professor Dumbledore would send her an escort; Bill and Professor Lupin were the obvious choice, since they were in the area. But why not Professor Lupin and Sirius? Ron feared the answer. Bill must've insisted. And that worried Ron. A lot.

The egret reminded Ron of its presence by chirping again. Despite the fact that the bird was now relatively mature, it still sounded like a chick, chirping and cooing. Ron imagined Hermione cuddling it like a baby; he smiled at the image, until he remembered that it was Bill who had given her the egret. He frowned and went back to chewing the quill. What should he say? There was no way he could say all he wanted and it was impossible to put into writing what he wanted to do. Flatten Bill and carry Hermione off to some remote corner of the castle. He'd have to ask George or Fred about the location of the secret rooms they used when they were at Hogwarts; he knew they had often disappeared with Alicia or Angelina. Of course, they were now at Hogsmeade, where they had set up shop with Zonko. The house had never been so quiet, and Ron missed them.

He could ask Percy; he must've gone somewhere with Penelope Clearwater. He wrinkled his nose at the idea. Percy would not approve and would never betray the fact that he had been involved in illicit snogging. Ron brightened as he remembered his faithful Ford Anglia. Angie could take them somewhere into the forest, where they could be alone. And Angie wasn't afraid of the spiders contained therein. Of course, his roommates, sympathetic to their friend's situation, had volunteered at the end of last year to "make themselves scarce" for a while, in case Ron wanted to visit with Hermione in private. Ron smiled. He had good friends.

The egret chirped again, more insistently. It was probably anxious to get back to Hermione; Ron sympathized. Quickly, he dashed off a note saying he could not wait to see her, to hold her, and that he would probably go crazy over the next week. He signed it then added, as an afterthought, that she should stay with Professor Dumbledore as much as possible and try not to be alone with anyone.

He sat back and blew across the ink before he folded the parchment into a neat strip. Turning, he saw the egret was already holding its foot up. "Hold on, already!" he smiled, wrapping the bit around the bird's leg. "There you go, and listen," he added, looking meaningfully into the bird's jet black eyes. "Don't leave her alone with that git, okay?"

The bird squeaked a reply then took to the night air, heading due north. With luck, Hermione would have the note the moment she arrived at the castle.

At that moment, an important meeting was taking place in Dumbledore's office. The faculty of Hogwarts was assembled to discuss the upcoming year. Specifically, Dumbledore wanted to address any apprehensions regarding their finest student who, due to unfortunate twists of fate, was now known to be the direct magical heir of their most formidable foe. Dumbledore was concerned there may be a rift amongst the faculty in their opinion of how the situation was to be handled. He feared this rift would be reflected in the student body, which was to reassemble the following week. He sighed as Professor Trelawney, who had made her way down from her remote tower aerie to protest bringing "that ill-begotten chit back to this estimable school." She was in the process of foretelling that there would be all sorts of resulting disasters, including students being removed by their outraged parents. "Who'd want their beloved progeny keeping company with the devil's spawn?"

At this, Minerva McGonagall snorted angrily and interrupted Trelawney's breathy filibuster. "How dare you, Sybil?" she roared, shaking with outrage. "Miss Granger is our finest student! We have every reason to believe she will continue to uphold the fine name of Hogwarts. Her unfortunate lineage has never affected her performance. If she was going to manifest any unfortunate behaviors, she would have already shown signs…"

"Signs!" retorted the quivering Trelawney, whose many bangles clanked as she raised her hands dramatically above her head. "How dare you speak of that which you obviously do not heed? Hermione Granger virtually scoffed in my face about that which she was not able to grasp, and left my class in shame."

"Shame?" cried McGonagall, advancing upon the unfortunate Trelawney, who took refuge behind Severus Snape. The leader of Slytherin House held the angry McGonagall back, albeit with a sympathetic and amused smile. McGonagall leaned around him to bellow at the quaking Sybil; despite her detachment from most aspects of reality, Trelawney was wise enough to foresee clear and present danger in the form of the furious McGonagall. "It would be a shame if your demented spouting of doom and disaster ever amounted to anything of substance!"

At this, Trelawney turned on her heel, pausing at the door to Dumbledore's office. "I can do no more; I have warned you of the folly of your intended course. Now you must bear the consequences…" She swiftly beat her retreat as McGonagall struggled to fend Snape off, murder in her lovely eyes. In a cloud of frangipani and a tinkling of bracelets, Trelawney hiked her skirts and ran down the hallway, hastening her escape.

Snape resumed his seat, pulling the irate McGonagall with him. He retained his hold on her as he spoke, apprehensive of her running down the hall after Trelawney and throttling her scrawny, bead-draped neck. "Well. We can't pretend to be surprised by Sybil's reaction, can we?" He cast an eye at his beloved Minerva, who was so pink in the cheeks that he feared she would burst. "After all, she has never opened her mouth without prophesying some form of doom, even in the most innocuous of circumstances."

"Which this most certainly is not." Professor Sinistra's calm voice was a welcome change. "I do not for an instant agree with Sybil's claptrap, but I must concur reluctantly on one point alone; Hermione Granger is no longer simply our star pupil. She is a star pupil with an unfortunate lineage, and that will color the opinions and reactions of many."

Dumbledore sighed, speaking to his faculty at last. "Yes, Professor, you are correct. And that is why I insisted on this meeting. We must devise our common course of action in order to guide those entrusted to our care."

A voice, dry and remote, whispered from its corner. "While the wizarding community has faced a variety of menaces, we cannot be blind to the fact that the renewed presence of Lord Voldemort will arouse the most intense feelings of dread. It is reasonable to assume that the existence of his sole magical air within our humble student body will cause a great deal of unrest, among the students as well as their concerned parents." Professor Binns, given to long speeches of dubious import, surprisingly hit the nail on the head with this one.

Hagrid was best acquainted with Hermione from five years of solid friendship. "I've said it once an' I'll say't agin - Hermione's no silly git of a girl. She'll stand up fer what's right, and fer anyone who stands with 'er."

Dumbledore smiled at the large gamekeeper who, as instructor of Care of Magical Creatures, earned his place in the room. Not that he would have missed the meeting; when it came to his friends, no earthly force could prevent Hagrid from standing up for them, despite the fact that he had to slump his shoulders forward to prevent his head from banging the ceiling of Dumbledore's office.

"Quite right, Hagrid. Yet I believe we must reach some agreements about our protocol. Hermione Granger is our most gifted student; now she has inherited a place in the survival of wizardry as we know it. It is essential that she receive the best instruction we can offer. We must also be prepared to offer her more; her agile mind will welcome it and her potential role in our history will demand it. We must be sure to provide her with the tools she will need to fight her unique battle."

The teachers spent the better part of an hour discussing the situation. Hagrid adamantly maintained that nothing would change his opinion of Hermione. Professor Flitwick also championed her, reminding everyone that she was the very first student in her class to correctly execute any charm given; indeed, her speed and skill placed her in the ranks of the finest he had ever instructed at Hogwarts. Madame Pomfrey simply shook her head; she had a feeling she'd be seeing a great deal more of Hermione Granger this year, but kept this to herself. Madame Sprout looked befuddled; Dumbledore perceived this affair troubled her. The gentle Hufflepuff House leader was loyal and he was sure of her, but suspected she'd rather stick to her bubotubers and mandrakes. Nevertheless, he was pleased to see that his staff was, with the exception of the flighty Trelawney, squarely in his court on this matter. Most importantly, they stood behind Hermione Granger. She would need every ounce of goodwill in the coming days.

After ascertaining the staff's acquiescence to his plans, Dumbledore turned the conversation to the coming year's changes. He announced that Professor Lupin would be returning to teach a new and most timely class, an Introduction to Aurorship. Professor Binns voiced in a lengthy diatribe that the addition of a werewolf to a student body already incorporating the sole magical heir of their most fearful adversary might cause a stir amongst the patrons and parents of their establishment. Dumbledore stated, firmly and with far less exposition, that these objections would be most unfortunate and not influence his decision one fig. Severus Snape did not seem too pleased with this news, as Dumbledore stressed that the new course would work closely in conjunction with Snape's Dark Arts classes. Nevertheless, he bit his lip and nodded; as always, he would follow Dumbledore's instructions to the letter, no matter how little he liked them.

Dumbledore concluded the meeting with this news and dismissed his faculty. Professors Snape and McGonagall lingered per his request. He turned a solemn face to them and addressed them directly. "I am sure I needn't point out that the two of you are key to the continued success of our plans here, but I wanted you both to be clear. I shall instruct Miss Granger to seek you out, specifically, in times of confusion and crisis. I fear we shall have our share of them this year."

Both instructors readily agreed, as Dumbledore knew they would. Snape observed, in his characteristically dry yet accurate perspective, "Despite Binn's verbiage, I fear he is correct in assessing the uproar Miss Granger's presence will have on our little clan. Surely you have some plans for dealing with the little dears and their dearer parents?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "I find that I do best when I maintain a healthy dose of doubt in my own council, Severus. Nevertheless, I will be prepared to deal with the doubts of those in our "little clan." In the meantime, I believe our star pupil has arrived."

Indeed, a soft knock indicated the arrival of their friends from the East. Hermione, looking a bit nervous, was escorted by Professor Lupin and Bill Weasley; the latter was holding her hand and released her only when she ran forward to embrace Minerva McGonagall, who ignored protocol and gave her favorite pupil an enormous hug. Snape bowed slightly. With a sigh of resignation, he shook Lupin's hand before Dumbledore asked him to.

This gesture did not go unnoticed by Dumbledore, who grinned like a cat with a canary before welcoming his guests. "I know your trip was a long one and not without its dangers. Minerva, will you and Severus show our guests to the Great Hall? I'd like a word with Miss Granger."

Once alone, Dumbledore laid his long hands on her shoulders and studied Hermione's face for several silent moments. At last he smiled and kissed her brow before gesturing to a seat in front of his desk. He took a seat beside her and, taking her hand, he looked once again into her eyes, which, it seemed to his close inspection, were slightly red. "And so, you are back to us at last, Miss Granger. Welcome home."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears. Dumbledore drew her in for a comforting hug and she sobbed heartily on his sturdy shoulder. They were the first real tears she had shed in six months, when she had wept in Dumbledore's office on The Morning After. Since that fateful evening, she had classified all events according to the order of their occurrence - Before or After. The event itself she mightily wished she could erase.

Dumbledore rocked her patiently, as he would a small child. Which, in so many ways, she still was. So young, to bear a burden so heavy.

At last Hermione drew some shattered breaths and composed herself as best she could. She smiled at him through her now bright-red eyes. "It hardly seems a day since I left, but it seems like years at the same time."

Dumbledore smiled and nodded. "It is often so with the important things in life. And how does this particular day find you, Hermione?"

She noticed he had dispensed with the "Miss Granger" and was glad of it. For better or worse, her relationship with Dumbledore had been changed forever. She recognized this and also feared it. She had so much to lose, by committing the innocent errors inherent to adolescence. Little slips could result in huge problems - everything was weighted now. She took a deep breath and thought for a moment. "It's strange, Professor. I don't feel like I quite belong. But I don't seem to belong anywhere else."

Dumbledore patted her hand. "You belong right here, Hermione. You are among friends - your dearest friends, never forget - and you have not lost your love of learning. We have much to teach you, and we also have much to learn together, you and I."

She studied her smooth young hand, enclosed by his wrinkled one. "I'm scared, Professor."

"Yes, that is quite understandable. Would you like a lemon drop?"

She was startled by his innocent offering and laughed. "Yes, thanks, I'd love one."

His eyes twinkled as he offered her a palmful of the bitter yellow candies. "Oh, and I have something else for you." He reached into another pocket and withdrew something that sparkled in the firelight.

She took it and held it before her. A deep red stone glittered in the center of an intricate amulet. Inscribed along its rim were runes she did not recognize. "What is it?" she asked in wonder, not taking her eyes from the shining ruby.

"It is a bit of comfort I can offer you, my dear. I want you to keep this with you at all times. It's a handy size and will fit neatly in your pocket. Hold it in your hand, just as you are doing now, and you will immediately contact me. You needn't speak aloud; this will transmit your thoughts to me."

"Wow," Hermione breathed. A direct link to Albus Dumbledore! It was more than she could ever have hoped and, for the first time in months, she felt a wave of warm relief sweep over her. "Gosh, Professor, I don't know how to thank you!"

Dumbledore squeezed her hand and released it. "You can start by going downstairs and enjoying your feast - the elves have been working night and day for a week! Oh, and in honor of you, they are all now on our payroll, complete with full benefits and two-week holidays."

Hermione's eyes lit with joy. "Oh, well done, Professor!"

Dumbledore chuckled. "No thanks to me, Hermione. It was all Winky and Dobby's doing."

She smiled, and Dumbledore was pleased by her childlike delight as she clapped her hands together. "Oh, I must go congratulate them! I'm so proud!"

Dumbledore stood and gestured to the door. "You go on down, my dear. I shall join you presently."

Dumbledore watched the fireplace for several long minutes after her departure then rose and tossed some crystals upon it. It flashed a brilliant emerald and, after a final pop, revealed the handsome features of Sirius Black. "Hello, my friend," Dumbledore greeted him. "You'll be relieved to know our guests have arrived safely. Now tell me, how goes our work?"

Bill Weasley was waiting in the hall outside Dumbledore's office. He greeted her with delight. "The house elves have whipped up a homecoming feast for you! Winky and Dobby are especially anxious to see you…"

Hermione was pleased but felt a now-familiar negative thought darken her joy. "I wonder how everyone else will feel," Hermione said gloomily, fingering the amulet in her pocket. It seemed to emit a bit of warmth; it was comforting to know this little bit of stone and metal connected her directly to Albus Dumbledore. Even Voldemort (she refused to acknowledge him as her grandfather) was in awe of Dumbledore. It made her feel a bit better, which was something, given the enormity of what she was facing.

Bill put a protective arm around her shoulders as they made their way to the Great Hall.
"Hermione, your real friends will still be your friends. That's what counts."

She leaned in to him, finding his warmth more immediate than Dumbledore's amulet. "I know. But I can't help wondering how others will react. Draco told me some Slytherins see me as a hero and will try to curry favor to please Voldemort!"

Bill winced at the name but realized, given Hermione's unique position, she had a right to use it. "Yes, there will be those who think it an honor to play up to you. But, Hermione, it's clear whose side you're on - the same one you've always been."

"But it's logical to assume, for the same reason the Slytherins will see me differently, others will too… Some people will shun me now, just because of him."

Bill stopped and put his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. He lifted her chin lightly to meet his gaze. His eyes were bright and kind. "Listen, we've talked about this before. I'm not going to tell you it'll be easy; I won't lie to you. But with the kind of friends you've got in your corner, you'll make it. Promise." She sighed as he kissed her forehead, then pulled her into a bear-crushing hug. Somehow, surrounded by the strong arms of Bill Weasley, she felt safe. She closed her eyes against a traitorous thought, which sounded a lot like, "But when he's gone, you'll fail, because you're weak…"

She had these thoughts quite often. The Lama Li had taught her to work through them, meditating and finding her center of calm. She had asked where the thoughts came from; she couldn't recall ever thinking such deeply negative thoughts, not even in her worst moments. But now, they were part of her daily life. The Lama was not evasive in his answer. "They come from Voldemort," he replied simply. "It was an evil knife that wounded you, Hermione. You will feel its effects for the rest of your life. But, with control and honesty you will never succumb to them."

She sighed. The Lama, Bill, even Albus Dumbledore believed her capable of these great things. She wished she had one-tenth of their confidence in her.

Bill released her from the hug but kept her hand in his. "C'mon!" he smiled and led her towards the Great Hall. "Let's see what Winky and Dobby have been up to!"

While Hermione was greeting the house elves, Harry and Ron sat by the Burrow's pond. Ron was pitching stones into the water and watching the long ripples lap towards their bare feet. "It's not fair, Harry. She's gonna have enough trouble without that git hounding her." He frowned and sank a particularly large stone, which caused the water to splash back into their faces.

Harry removed his glasses and wiped them on the new Chudley Cannons shirt Ron had loaned him to replace the hideously small and torn shirt Harry sported on his arrived at the Burrow. Ron knew the Dursleys were hard-pressed for finances, even worse than his own parents. Now that the elder Weasleys were making their own ways in the world, his family had larger cash reserves than they had previously known. It was characteristic Ron, however, to give Harry his newest shirt. Harry was extremely grateful, as the one he'd been wearing was almost two years old and Harry had grown considerably during the course of those years. He was still incredibly long and lean, as was Ron, but the summer had filled them out a bit. When Harry first stepped through the Burrow's fireplace, Ron had joshed and sparred with him and ended up rolling all over the floor. In the ensuing struggle, Harry had torn out his left sleeve and popped all his buttons, which sent Mrs. Weasley into outraged clucking and sending Ron to get Harry something "in his own size, for heaven's sake!" But it was Ron's choice to give Harry the Cannons shirt.

Harry replaced his glasses, now spot-free, and shrugged. "I'm not crazy about Malfoy either, Ron, but you know what Dumbledore'll say. We're supposed to work together, remember?"

Ron pitched another stone, a bit more cautiously. To Harry's relief, it merely skipped a few times across the glassy surface of the water before sinking with a small plop. "I know, I know. But it's gonna be tough for Hermione this year. People'll treat her differently. At least, some will."

Harry nodded. It was a thought that had occurred to him often over the summer. There were few wizards in the world that knew the effects of notoriety, both good and bad, more than Harry. He was The Boy Who Lived, after all. Now Hermione had the unenviable role of being The Girl Who Also Lived and Was Related to The Devil. How would she be able to live with that, he wondered. "That's what Malfoy says," Harry put in.

Ron's breath was a quick hissing intake. "I can't believe he even wrote you," he began.

Harry was also bemused. "No kidding. I don't think he would've, but Hermione kept after him to do it and I guess, in the end, he was pretty lonely. After all, it's just him and his mum these days…"

Ron completely ignored the concept of Malfoy being lonely and zeroed in on what really bothered him. "See what I mean? Hermione told him to write you! He's already bugging her, and it's not even the school term yet!"

Harry sighed. Last summer, he was worried that Ron would never admit his real feelings for Hermione. Now, he was afraid that Ron would never shut up about it. "Where's Ginny?" he asked, fervently hoping to change the subject.

Ron shrugged. "Around here somewhere, I guess."

Harry craned his neck around to look back at the house. Ginny had been there to greet him upon his arrival; after he realized he'd split his shirt wide open wrestling with Ron, he had met Ginny's eyes and both of them had blushed beet red. It was only after she'd turned on her heel and ran upstairs that Harry had realized she'd grown quite a bit over the summer. She really looked… pretty.

Ron interrupted his thoughts. "What's up with Cho?"

Harry knew Ron would ask. "Oh, she's doing pretty well, I guess. She's been traveling with her family for most of the summer."

"Yeah? You haven't seen her, then?"

"Nope, but you know the Dursley rules. At least she's sent a few owls."

Ron sighed and tossed another rock. "Like a couple of old bachelors, eh, Harry? All summer and no girls. Well, at least we'll see 'em soon now."

Harry turned hopefully as he heard someone rustling through the grass, but was disappointed when he recognized the pale face of Percy Weasley. "Come on, you two, Mom says it's time for dinner."

Harry and Ron rose and followed the officious Percy. Both were deep in thought about The Girls. Funny, Harry thought, how that was never an issue before.

Dinner at the Burrow was uneventful, with only Percy, Ron and Harry present with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley; Ginny was visiting with a friend. Harry missed the usual back-to-school conviviality he'd come to associate with the Burrow. With the mainstay of Weasley boys off making their own ways in the world, the Burrow had become a quiet place indeed.

This situation was exacerbated by Mr. Weasley's solemnity. Harry thought he had a few more furrows in his brow than when he had last seen him, and he seemed more distracted than usual. Mrs. Weasley had to ask him three times to pass the potatoes, then finally gave up and used her wand to procure them.

Immediately after dinner, Mrs. Weasley announced that it was late and the boys should go to bed. Ron started to protest but caught the look in her eye and, reluctantly, he and Harry retired to his room.

As Mrs. Weasley cleared the table, she asked her husband how his day had been. She listened patiently as he described a litany of woes, all too familiar in these darkening days. There were outbursts of black magic throughout England, but the worst of it was occurring in the Balkan states. He reminded her that he had taken refuge there, after his defeat by Dumbledore and the Elements half a year prior.

"I'm terribly concerned for the children," sighed Mr. Weasley. "After that article in the Daily Prophet last spring, I'm sure Dumbledore has been hard-pressed by angry parents."

Mrs. Weasley shook her head irritably. "Hermione Granger has always been a dear. She's just a little girl!"

"Yes, just like Ginny. But don't pretend you don't have some concerns yourself, Molly. Weren't you just a bit relieved Dumbledore prevented her from coming here before the school year resumed?"

Mrs. Weasley hung her head, ashamed of herself. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I really am, but you know how Ron feels about her and… well, it worries me. I don't want to see him get hurt…"

"That's not quite it, though, is it? Tell the truth. You don't particularly care for the thought of having his granddaughter for a daughter-in-law, do you?"

Molly looked at her husband in wide-eyed surprise. "Arthur! They're only babies!"

"Were we any older when we first met?" he smiled, putting his arms around his startled wife.

"No, I suppose not," she sniffed, relaxing in his embrace. "But, well, it's not so much that I wouldn't welcome her into this family, it's just that… she might not… that is…"

Mr. Weasley finished her difficult sentence. "She might not survive her years at Hogwarts, given his intentions."

"Oh, Arthur! It's too horrible!" she cried, burying her face in her husband's chest.

"It is indeed," he agreed solemnly. "But she needs our support, Molly. It's going to be a dreadful time for her. Even Fudge is demanding she be placed in custody, 'for her own safety,' he says."

Mrs. Weasley raised her head and uttered a most uncharacteristic curse. "That bastard! He has no right; what can he be thinking? She's far better in the care of Albus Dumbledore, with powerful allies around her… How can he be such an idiot?"

"I'm afraid Fudge is more than inefficient and short-sighted. Some of us have come to believe he's with the other side."

Mrs. Weasley paled. "You don't mean…"

"I do. And Molly, I want to warn you. Those of us who suspect him are gathering evidence to have him removed from office. A man in his position… well, he can do a great deal of damage."

Mrs. Weasley felt the sting of tears in her eyes. She embraced her husband again and began to cry afresh. "Oh Arthur, I'm frightened!"

Mr. Weasley sighed and held her close. "So am I, Molly. So am I."

Harry Potter rose from his place on the third step of the Burrow's front staircase, silently retracing his steps without the glass of water he'd risen to get. This was not the first time he'd overheard the Weasleys discussing unpleasant business and, again, he rather wished he hadn't heard this conversation.

Next: Old Friends, New Adversaries