I'm so excited to see how many people like this fic! Its such a wonderful feeling to see the number of reviews get larger and larger! As always, I want input! Suggestions! Ideas for pairings! Come on, you can do it!
Sorry about the lack of speed in posting, I'm a bit stressed out with the evil English professor I have. I used to think I did pretty well in English classes… currently I'm praying I keep my C. And along those lines, this has been spell-checked only. Sorry.
And I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, there would be more Draco.
Epic Proportions: Genealogy: Letters
Hermione grimaced. "If he doesn't stop looking at me, I'm... well, I'm not really certain what I would do, but I plan on doing something."
Ron paused mid-bite to look at her quizzically, "Who's looking at you?" And then promptly finished eating that particular scoop of food. "Harry and I can look back at him and see how he likes it."
"I think you would be more like to punch him or exchange insults if anything, Ron." She risked another glance at the Slytherin table. "I think he's done now. It was Malfoy, by the way."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "Malfoy? Do you think he's up to something?"
"Ha!" Ron snorted. "When is he not up to something is the better question. You want me and Harry to go see what's up?"
Hermione's eyes widened with fear at that thought. She could see it now: Ron and Harry confronting Malfoy, he in turn making fun of her more for over-imagining things, and fights breaking out, and-"
"Or if you don't want us to we don't have to," Harry added quickly, noting her panicked expression.
"Thanks," Hermione said, relieved. He always knew the right thing to say.
They continued eating in silence until finally Ron spoke up again. "Not only Malfoy, but Snape's been paying an unnatural amount of attention to this part of the table."
Both Harry and Hermione chanced looks out of the corner of their eyes. It did appear as though Snape was looking at their group with more than just his normal scrutiny. There almost seemed to be a bit of sympathy mixed in there too. Undoubtedly they were just seeing things. Since when did Snape ever exhibit an emotion other than scorn, especially to them?
Every Friday evening, Hermione's parents would sit in the living room for a movie night. It was a time for them to escape from their long and tiring days of constantly cleaning teeth. Tonight's pick had been 'Resident Evil'.
The movie just ended when suddenly three dark figures appeared right in front of them.
"You know it wasn't very nice of you to lie to your 'daughter'," the man in the middle said conversationally, stressing the last word of the sentence. "You filthy Muggles do not know how to respect your betters by even the simplest action, do you?"
"Muggles? Are you wizards?" Even in such a dangerous situation, the man still took the time to berate himself for such a stupid question. "Have you done something to Hermione? If you have, I swear, you will-"
He was cut off by a kick in the side. "Shut up unless you're going to answer the question."
The builds of the strangers standing in the living room with the Grangers were tall and sturdy, leading them to believe them to most likely be male.
The first speaker laughed darkly. "Do you know what we do to people who do not give wizards and witches the proper respect they deserve? We kill them."
The muggle man tried his best to shield his wife from them. "You can do what you want to me, but leave my wife and my daughter alone!" Obviously it was his attitude that rubbed off onto Hermione.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The man crumpled to the ground, dead, leaving the woman open for them to attack. "Normally, Mrs. Granger, we have a bit of playtime before we kill females."
She was openly trembling in fear while he addressed her.
"Count your blessings we decided to leave this simpler. You were, after all, the adoptive mother of a Slytherin. For that you receive the greatest award: an easy death."
She died not a minute after her husband.
By the time Snape arrived there, all he saw were ashes and the Dark Mark, shining high in the sky. All he could do was stare. Then he began to laugh like someone who just realized things had just gotten about as bad as they could ever get. On the side, he wondered if Hermione liked the color green.
If only he had come last night!
Hermione woke up in the middle of the night to a brisk tapping on her door. "Harry, if that's you, I'm going to strangle you." She called through the door sleepily while she grabbed her robe to throw over her nightclothes.
She opened to be greeted by a very haggard Headmaster. "Oh! I'm so sorry Professor Dumbledore! It's just that it's so late and-"
He raised a hand to stop her talking. "No harm done by this, Ms. Granger, but I think we are overdue for a rather serious conversation."
"Isn't it a bit late? Granted I don't have any classes tomorrow morning or anything…" She stopped. It had to be serious and most likely too serious than her brain could handle at the moment. "Sorry, Professor. You would know the best thing to do. Has something happened to my parents?"
Hermione and Albus each took a seat in the two chairs Hermione thoughtfully placed in her room.
He ignored her question for the moment. "I understand you had some strange results in the genealogy test you took in Potions. I believe the test revealed the coat-of-arms of Slytherin to you, is that correct?"
Hermione nodded as the sleep was starting to clear from her head.
"It has also come to my attention you are not aware of your adoption."
Hermione was awake. Quite awake, for that matter. "Adopted?" She sputtered. "I couldn't be adopted! I would remember that!" Her eyes narrowed. "Is this some kind of joke? I don't think it's very funny if it is."
He closed his eyes pensively for a moment. "Your mother was a lovely young woman by the name of Circe Slytherin. She died when you were two. Three years before her death, she eloped with a man named Ethan Flamel, a descendant of my good friend Nicolas Flamel. You were born a year after this, in this very room. This was, of course, before the tradition of Head Boy and Girl getting private rooms began."
Hermione couldn't help but to survey her room again, this time in a very different light. She could imagine the scene. Her supposed mother lying on the bed holding her, Madam Pomfrey in the corner watching over her just in case complications had arisen from the birth.
Dumbledore continued his story. "Ethan knew he could trust me to keep news of your birth quiet. A week after you were born, your parents put you up for adoption to keep you away from Hyperian Slytherin, your biological grandfather. While your mother had been raised to dislike muggles and those associated with them, she couldn't hate them at all. She did not want you to have to grow up in the same situation she did. Thus, the Grangers adopted you under conditions they told no one of your adoption. Not even I knew the name of the family that took you. Your parents never even named you out of fear they would grow to love you too much in that space of time to give you up."
"How did she die?" Hermione was riveted. Who would have thought she of all people would have such a tangled past?
He paused, reluctant to reveal more than necessary. "Voldemort killed her. There is a prophecy that a girl with the blood of Slytherin in her will come to rule the Death Eaters and fulfill Salazar Slytherin's legacy. Since your aunt and uncle are unable to produce children, Voldemort found them to be no threat. Circe, however, could have been the woman foretold, but at the very least it had to be a descendant of hers. When he killed her, he had no idea you had been born."
"Which puts me in a great deal of danger." She fell deep in thought. "Voldemort doesn't know I exist now, right?"
Albus could feel his eyes watering for this girl whose life was about to be utterly destroyed. "He knows. Hyperian was sorely put out his daughter had been murdered. He will protect you from Voldemort."
A sharp cry rose from her throat. "He knows too?"
He nodded. "I fear it will not be long until the entire wizarding world hears of it. Anything concerning the Slytherin family is magnificent gossip. And now, I have most unfortunate news."
He stopped to clear his throat. "I'm sorry to have to tell you about this. A few hours ago, a group of Death Eaters broke into your home. They set the entire house on fire, but the Ministry officials there found two bodies in the remainder of the house."
She stared at him, overwhelmed, before her entire world was encompassed in darkness.
Sorrowfully, Dumbledore levitated her to her bed, arranging her comfortably. Each death weighed heavily on his conscience. It was time these needless deaths stopped and Voldemort was removed from his position of power. Too many families had been destroyed already.
Even as he was approaching his office, he could hear Fawkes and another phoenix heatedly snapping retorts at each other. Entering his office, he understood why. A rare green phoenix was intruding upon Fawkes' food.
All the portraits of the previous Headmasters were shooting glares at the two for most likely disturbing their rest. At least, Dumbledore figured, that would be my reasoning.
He recognized the green phoenix as the personal messenger of Hyperian Slytherin. The green breed was difficult to raise and considered ostentatious by many, making it ideal for the Slytherin patriarch.
It dismayed him, all the reminders of such an evil family having so much power over so many people.
His eyes strayed to his desk where two letters laid, side by side. One was the stereotypical cream parchment with green sealing wax marking it to be from the Slytherin family, while the other brought Albus much more hope.
He broke the blue seal eagerly, hoping that perhaps this grave injustice to Miss Granger might be prevented. No matter how soon she might reach eighteen by this time period's reckoning, she still was required to have an adult to speak for her actions while in school and hold her accountable. Hyperian was hoping to fulfill that position for Hermione, but if at all possible, Albus was going to do what he could to stop him from getting his hands on her.
It was unlikely the Ministry would favor the Flamels over the Slytherins for multiple reasons. Nicolas and Perenelle were both in failing health and were likely to die at any time. Not only that, while both families commanded a great deal of respect around the Wizarding world, Hyperian had an advantage that he had no qualms against violence or other grievous solutions to get his way.
Dumbledore held the letter with one hand and twiddled with his beard with his other, while at the same time pacing around his office, reading the letter aloud to himself.
"Perenelle and myself are willing to do anything within our power to protect the girl from Slytherin; we both fully understand the concerns you mentioned in your letter and completely agree with you on all of them. While it pleases us to no end she has been found and the Flamel bloodline will be continued (hopefully), we are both sympathetic and sorrowful it has come at such a price. My first and foremost regret is I have no way of reaching Ethan to inform him of his daughter and fear to allow word of her predicament to spread to the paper, regardless if it is a likely means of reaching him before the imminent trial occurs."
He would not be the slightest surprise if that meddling Skeeter woman had contacts on Mars. She could tell the world about Hermione, and probably destroy all of Hermione's remaining sanity at the same time. The child was about to get enough attention when the custody battle would take place. However, depending on how things went, Hyperian might have already contacted Skeeter himself.
He continued reading it. "We will do our part and try our best to gain, custody, shall we say? From the little bit of information you sent to us, she appears to be a highly intelligent and remarkable young woman whom both my wife and I are excitedly looking forward to meeting at the earliest convenience. That is, as soon as she is ready to meet us. Our schedule is busy in the coming few weeks, but all of that can be rescheduled so as to help Hermione in any way necessary."
Bless him! The Flamels were such considerate people, always looking out for others' best interests. If only more people in society could follow in their footsteps.
He moved onto the next letter, much more apprehensive about the contents. He scanned the letter quickly, eyes crinkling in thought. So Hyperian had beaten him. He had custody of Miss Granger already, but there was no way Albus was going to let it go at that. He would fight Slytherin in court, and support Nicolas and Perenelle completely. He only hoped his intervention would be enough…
Hermione awoke the following morning in good spirits, pushing the awful nightmare behind her and slightly amused she had been so tired the night before she neglected to remove her robe. How preposterous! Her, a mix of Slytherin and Flamel bloodlines? Wouldn't that just make Malfoy's blood boil? Then he would have had to find a new insult to use against her. Not that Mudblood really bothered her anymore, anyway.
She dressed quickly, anxious to get to the table and tell Ron and Harry her dream, positive they would get a kick out of the absurdity of it. She should probably leave out the part of her parents supposed death though, it took away from the humor a bit.
Just what was that cat's problem? Crookshanks was perched on the end of her bed, watching her intently. Cats were known for their sixth sense, maybe he suspected interesting was going to happen today.
She dismissed the idea as she pulled her hair back with a gold barrette. The nightmare must have just unhinged her a bit.
She took a quick glimpse around the room, making sure she did not forget to take anything of any importance with her. Her eyes fell upon a parchment with unfamiliar handwriting lying open on her desk. She knew she did not put it there, and that meant some one had been in her room while she was asleep. She hated a cluttered workspace, as it was too easy to lose important work.
As she read it, she felt the blood drain from her face. But it was a dream. None of it happened. There was no way it could be true. This sort of stuff never happened in real life. This happened to characters in books, or movies, but not to her. Scratch that. This kind of stuff happened to Harry, not her.
How did she know she was adopted? Sure, there was the potion that supported that idea, but her parents should have told her! Now there was no way to be certain because her parents were… She could barely form the word in her mind.
It was so unfair they were killed. They were not part of this world, but yet they fell, innocent of all crimes but raising a child to be the woman she was now. What sort of reign of terror was this, that such pure and wonderful people were killed because they did not have the potential to float a feather with their mind?
She curled up on her bed, deep in thought. Dumbledore promised her a few days off from school to come to better terms with the new developments in her life. Was that even possible? How does one come to terms with something like that? It was all her fault. If she had never been born, the Granger family would have all been together and alive.
Crookshanks moved from the bottom of the bed and curled up on her stomach, purring deeply and nudging her with his head. He had known the problem she had to face when she woke up, and knew just what she needed. The subtle companionship was welcome and at this stage, preferred over Ron and Harry's silly antics.
She gazed out the window nearest to her, playing over the fond memories of her parents. When she was a child, she would climb into her parents' laps and listen intently as they read different stories to her. They started her early on history, which was most likely why she liked history so much now.
She tried to picture the way her parents looked the last time she saw them. They were so proud of her achievements, wishing they could be a part of her world and see her in her element, in her temporary home for the past six years.
After awhile, Hermione dragged herself off the bed, disturbing a content Crookshanks napping in her lap. She came to a realization during that time. Everyone died eventually. Granted, Nicolas Flamel was trying his luck at defying that for awhile, but even he was accepting of the imminent. It was in no way fair her parents were ripped away from her at such an early age, but sitting there, doing absolutely nothing would never help anyone.
She pulled out her Defence Against the Dark Arts text and began studying even more passionately. Her life was about to spin out of control, but she would not go down without a fight. At least, she doubted much of her life would be left in her control if Slytherin got custody over her. Voldemort would pay for everything he did to those undeserving of early death, and Hermione would do her part to make sure it happened, even if it meant her own death.
She never even noticed the tears sliding down her cheeks until the splotches appeared on the text. Even then, she ignored them.