Disclaimer: The original disclaimer still applies.
A/N: I forgot to mention that this is a HG/SS fic, but that is more of a sub plot, and to make my protagonists life more complicated (he he).
Please review.
Chapter Two: Life is Full of Surprises.
Hermione woke up the next morning her back aching from having slept in the small sleeping bag on Ginny Weasley's bedroom floor. She kicked the patched up sleeping bag away and wriggled out of it.
Ginny had already gone downstairs. She threw on her clean clothes, a pair of jeans and a Quicksilver shirt. She was just about to leave and head downstairs when she heard and tinkling monotone sound coming from her overnight bag.
She reached into it and pulled out her mobile phone.
"Hello," she answered.
"Hello love," her mother replied, her usually soothing voice sounding distraught and worried, "listen we're sorry to disturb your fun but we've had some bad news, and there is something we need to tell you."
Hermione agreed that she would come home straight away, and she packed her phone back into her bag.
Once downstairs she explained her situation to the Weasley's and Mrs Weasley was very adamant that she leave straight away.
Hermione got her stuff together and in no time at all she wasstanding in her living room covered in soot.
Her mother greeted her and told her to sit down.
"Now, Hermione," she began, "we found out last night that your grandmother, your fathers mother, has died."
Hermione didn't know how to feel about this revelation. Her father and her grandmother had fallen out years ago and had never spoken again. She had never knoe her grandmother, so how can you miss someone who've never known.
"That isn't the last of it though. We also found out that she was in fact a," she stumbled over her words slightly, "a witch, just like you."
Hermione was crestfallen. She had always thought that she came from a completely Muggle family.
"How, I mean, what?" Hermione stuttered, feeling speechless for perhaps the first time in her life.
"She, er, she's been living a what do you call it, Muggle lifestyle? She never told your father. It very surprising that he isn't a Wizard."
That meant that her father was a Squib? She couldn't get over this announcement. Not only was she not from a completely Muggle family, but her father was a Squib, al she needed to know was that she was related to the Malfoys and she really would have hit rock bottom.
"Why? Why did grandmother live as a Muggle?" Hermione asked. Her mother shook her head.
"I don't know my love," the soothing voice back again, "I really don't know."
A week went by and Hermione hadn't spoken to any of her friends. She didn't want to tell them about her grandmother, she was afraid that it would change everything, the way they felt about her, the way they acted around her.
When her list for her school supplies arrived she realised that she would have to get on with her life. She had been moping around for too long, she had work to get on with, school to finish exams to pass. With the prospect of returning back to work she brightened up, and as she went down the list of supplies she felt excitement at the prospect of learning new and advanced magic.
Her father took her to into the centre of London. He didn't want to admit it to his daughter but he was slightly jealous that she possessed a talent that by rights he should have as well. He wanted so much to be a part of her world, but he realised that he was just an outsider, it was a horrible feeling.
"You know dad," Hermione said in an attempt to help him, "Filch has a book or something that teaches him to do magic, Harry told me about it, perhaps you could get one."
He smiled down at his daughter, with those simple words she had dispelled all the hostility and envy he felt. How could he stay mad at her?
"That's alright love," he said and they went into the Leaky Cauldron.
They moved through the smoky atmosphere and out the backdoor. They moved around the dustbins and walked up to the wall, tapping the stones in the correct order. They had to get to Diagon Alley this way because the floo made Mr Granger sick.
They stepped through the arch and on to Diagon Alley. Hermione loved this place. It was cheerful and practically buzzing with the magic that it contained. Harry says the atmosphere is very different to Knockturn Alley, which is dark and dismal and must have been frightening for a young boy of twelve.
"Hermione!" Shouted a deep familiar voice. She looked up to see Ron waving at her. He was standing with his dad whose eyes lit up when he saw Mr Granger. The two had become quite good friends, a friendship that had started of with Mr Weasley's fascination with everything Muggle.
"Hey, Ron," she said actual feeling much better for seeing her friend. She always forgets how happy her friends make her. "Where are Harry and Ginny?"
"Oh, they came down here this morning, apparently Harry needed to talk to Ginny," Ron said raising one eyebrow I a silent question. Hermione shrugged, not wanting to get into this conversation.
"Why don't you two go off and get your stuff," Mr Weasley said patting his son on the shoulder awkwardly as Ron was so much taller, "me and your dad'll just go and have some coffee."
The two men walked off and Ron and Hermione went to get their supplies. Once finished they sat outside a small coffee shop where they had expected to see Mr Weasley and Mr Granger, but they where nowhere to be seen.
"Dad must have got asking him questions," Hermione said putting down her shopping and stretching her back that was stiff from all the walking and carrying.
"He getting curious then? About the magic you learn?" Hermione nodded, amking a sudden decision to get this off her chest.
"Listen, Ron," she started, "if I tell you something will you promise not to tell anyone?" Ron nodded. "I was called away from your place because my grandmother had died."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Hermione."
"Don't be, I never met her. My dad had an argument with her and they lost conact. Anyway," she continued, "we found out that she was actually a Witch."
Ron looked at her incredulously.
"Honest?" He asked his mouth hanging open, making him look gormless.
"Yes, honest. It turns out that I'm not actually a Muggle born. My father is a Squib," Hermione said quietly. Being a Squib is more shameful than being a Muggle born in the world of centuries old, pureblood Wizards, like Malfoy.
"Bloody hell. Something really horrible must have happened to your grandmother," Ron said.
"Why something horrible?"
"Well think about it, would you give up your Magical lifestyle?" Ron asked.
Hermione had to admit that she wouldn't. She couldn't imagine anything that would make her want to give up the Magic and the whole Wizard community. She would put up with a hundred more Malfoys, and she would probably have to do that in her lifetime, just to stay a part of all that.
Ron's words kept going round and round in her head. What had made her grandmother leave the Wizarding world? Why would anyone do that, renounce the world that she loved?
Those questions stayed in her mind for the remainder of the holiday and she was still thinking about them as she boarded the Hogwarts Express, for what was to be her last journey to Hogwarts as a student, perhaps ever.
"Hermione," Harry said trying to get her attention, "are you alright, you're very quiet."
Hermione smiled, her friends concern was touching if not slightly annoying.
"She's fine, probably mentally preparing herself for all the learning she's going to do," Ron said winking at Hermione, letting her know that he wasn't going to give away her secret. Hermione smiled back at him as way of a thank you.
Their compartment door opened and Neville Longbottom came in. He smiled at them and said hello.
"Can I come in here, all the others are full?" He said, his brown, puppy dog like eyes pleading with them.
"Sure," Harry said, "have a nice summer?"
"Alright, bit boring," he walked up to where Hermione was sitting, "Shift up a bit."
He tapped Hermione on the shoulder and a sudden jolt of electricity shot from him through her.
"Ouch!" She yelped. "Bloody hell, Neville!" She rubbed her shoulder.
"Sorry," he pleaded once more, "it must static from this carpet." He rubbed the sole of his shoe on the carpet to emphasise his point.
"Just sit over there," Hermione said pointing towards Harry and Ron who seemed highly amused by this display.
When they arrived at the station, the four friends piled into a carriage, which would take them to the castle itself. Hermione loved this place. It was so old fashioned and spooky, but at the same time there was no where she felt safer.
They pulled up and walked into the cavernous entrance hall, the walls lined with portraits of old Wizards and Witches, and picturesque scenes from hundreds of years ago. Each picture moving, living that specific moment in time over and over again.
They then filed into the great hall, each taking their places at the specific tables, amongst their house mates.
They were all seated and waiting for the arrival of the new students, each student remembering the sickening feeling of butterflies in the stomach they got when they where waiting to be sorted.
Professor McGonagall rose from her seat at the staff table and walked towards the double doors. On the way however she stopped and leant down to whisper to Hermione. As she got closer Hermione smelled the familiar scent of rose water which became stronger as she leant down.
"The Headmaster would like a word with you after the feast," she said with a friendly pat on the shoulder and them walked of, her long green cloak making a swishing sound on the stone floor.
"What's that about?" Harry asked confused. "Why does Dumbledore want to talk to you?"
"Probably about Head girl duties," she said, as she had no idea herself what the Headmaster wanted to see her about.
They left it at that and soon the new students were walking in looking every bit as nervous as last years had, and the year before that, and the year before that etc, etc, etc.
Then the feast began, and every student tucked in as if they hadn't had a decent meal since the last sorting feast. Ron was helping himself to piles of food, despite the fact that he hadn't stopped eating all summer.
"How was your summer Harry?" Seamus Finnigan asked in his broad Irish accent. "How did you get on with those relatives of yours?"
"Alright, considering," Harry said, "they kind of leave me alone now, and I go out a lot, as long as I promise not to talk to anyone."
"Can you believe it," Ron said cutting through the conversation, "we have the same Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher as last year."
Professor Moore had joined the staff the beginning of last year, and despite the curse that was rumoured to be over the job she had survived and was back for another year.
She was a bizarre sort of person. She had very dark skin and was well built, friendly looking but definitely not someone you'd want to cross. Her dark brown hair was cut short and was styled so that it flicked out at the end. She had become a fashion guru to some of the female students, especially Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. Gryffindor's own resident Barbie Dolls.
They were chattering on endlessly about their Divination homework.
"Don't tell me you actually believe in all of Trelawny's rubbish," Hermione said irritated by the superior attitude that they both developed when talking about Divination.
"We've had a lot of accurate predictions," Lavender said annoyed by Hermione's words.
"Oh, any about me," Hermione started, "don't tell me, erm, a tall, dark handsome man will sweep me off my feet."
"You may laugh, but we know you're just jealous because you have no sight," with that they turned to each other and resumed their conversation.
When the feast had finished Harry and Ron headed off towards the Gryffindor common room and Hermione separated from them and went to Dumbledore's office.
She walked up towards the gargoyle when she suddenly realised that she had no idea what the password was. She stood there for a few seconds when the Gargoyle moved on it's own. She moved forward but suddenly slammed into something solid and pitch black. She looked up startled and she met the eyes of her Potions teacher Professor Snape.
His eyes were black and lifeless most of the time but as she looked up they flashed with anger and then returned to their dead state.
"Watch where you are going, stupid girl," he snarled his lip curling in distaste.
She went to say sorry but before she could he had walked away in a flurry of black.
Hermione walked up the steps into Dumbledore's office and was greeted by the smiling face of the Headmaster, his blue eyes twinkling from behind those half moon spectacles.
"Miss Granger, glad you could make it," he said motioning for her to sit down.
Hermione sat down in a comfortable worn out chair that was placed opposite Dumbledore's desk. He sat on the other side of the desk and leaned back.
"May I offer my sincere condolences for the loss of your grandmother," he said in a calm, solemn voice.
"Well thank you Headmaster, but I didn't know her. I never even saw a picture of her," Hermione said.
"I am sure that it was a shock for your father though."
"Well yes, she was his mother after all."
"And I'm sure it came as a shock to find out about your grandmother's true identity," the old man said looking straight into Hermione's eyes.
"You know?" She asked and he nodded in reply. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"It was not my place to tell you. If I had I would be betraying a secret, you wouldn't have really wanted me to do that, would you?"
Hermione had to admit that she didn't. She had always admired the Headmaster's ability to always do the right thing.
"Why? Why did she live as a Muggle?" Hermione asked quietly, hoping the Headmaster could shed some light on this matter.
"It is something that, now she has died, is left to you," he said cryptically, "something," he continued, "that she felt she couldn't handle."
"What?" Hermione asked not liking the sound of this.
"You are aware that this school was set up by the four founders?" Hermione nodded, "And that the house in the school are named after them?"Hermione nodded again confused about where this was all heading. "Well, they where the most powerful Wizards of their time, and of course they were always worried about their safety, so they hired so one to look after them."
"Like a bodyguard," Hermione cut in.
"Yes, exactly. Anyway this person was extremely powerful and if one of the founders were in danger their protector would be called to them."
"What has this got to do with my grandmother?"
"Well just like the founders had heirs, so did the protector. The founders wanted the protectors heir to protect their heir, if you get my meaning," Dumbledore said, feeling like he hadn't explained this very well.
"You mean the my grandmother was the protectors heir?"
"Exactly, and she felt it was too much responsibility. Really there isn't much need for a protector these days, but if you feel that you cannot handle this then we can terminate your scholarship here and you can live like your grandmother."
Hermione thought about this. Her immediate reaction was to say no, that she would never give up this life. But she kept thinking about her grandmother. She had felt it was too much responsibility. Before she made up her mind she had to ask one more question.
"How can you tell if someone is an heir?" Dumbledore thought about this question.
"Well, many have said that when an heir touches them they can feel,"
"Electricity," Hermione finished already knowing the answer.
"Yes, electricity," Dumbledore paused for a moment, looking at Hermione, "as I have said, if you feel this is too much you must come and tell me."
Hermione shook her head.
"No, this is what I have to do. I don't want to give up on magic. I don't think I could do that."
With their conversation over Dumbledore dismissed Hermione. As she walked a long the corridors towards the Gryffindor common room she thought about everything. Should she view this as a blessing or a curse.
She stopped in the corridor just by the portrait entrance to the common room. She took a deep breath.
"I can do this," she said and went through the portrait hole.