To live happily ever after?

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Chapter 2: To go back.

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Hermione was now sitting in the darkness of her room. She wasn't really in any hurry to go see her father, who was now entertaining their guests. Well, interrogating was probably a more accurate way to describe it. But the young woman wasn't exactly ready to face the faces from her past.

She had known, for over a year, that this day would come to pass. She thought herself ready. She realised that she wasn't. In the candle light, she gazed into a mirror at her own image. Her brown hair had gotten longer with the years but hadn't really lost their bushy look. The real difference was in her eyes; not only her right one was now bright silver instead of chocolate brown, but they were also harder. She had seen too much for this not to happen.

The real problem was the memories. She remembered all to well why she had left England, why the Ministry was now here to arrest her. She wasn't even sorry. Or feeling guilty about it. Death Eaters had turned up on her parents' doorstep one day. She wasn't there, but she still doubted that it would have made a great difference if she had. And when she had got back from her trip to Diagon Alley, it was to find Ministry officials there, waiting to tell her about her parents' deaths. Something had snapped inside the 18 year old girl's mind then. Next thing she knew, she was actually facing Peter Pettigrew and Antonin Dolohov. She had killed the latest and was firmly intent in killing the other when Aurors had Apparated all around. Of course, Pettigrew had escaped. But Hermione was then to stand trial over using an Unforgivable and killing Dolohov.

'Valiele?'

With a sigh and a flick of her wrist, Hermione opened the door to her brother and sister. As they stepped inside the room, Felaol looked up and down his adoptive sister.

'You look like hell, sis.'

'Yeah, well, can you really blame me?'

Felaol shook his head, long strands of slick black hair coming to rest on his shoulders, while Elahele sat next to Hermione. Hermione took a moment to look at both of them: they were tall, nothing like the House Elves; Felaol sported long black hair falling freely down the middle of his back while Elahele's light brown curls were going way past her waist; both bore the long, pointed ears and teeth and shining silver eyes typical f their race. Felaol wore black leather trousers, a forest green, sleeveless shirt laced at the front with a cord of brown leather and black leather boots, in the fashion of the High Elves. Elahele had opted for dark brown boots and trousers and a long sleeved, dark green shirt with a cord of the same colour. Hermione was wearing the same clothes, apart from the colours: her trousers were a lighter shade of brown, her boots black, while her shirt was white with a white cord to hold it in place.

'I suppose they would like to see me.'

Felaol nodded and presented his arms to his sisters. Hermione and Elahele stood up, smiling, and accepted his offer. The three of them walked slowly their way to the room where Kalarash was usually presiding over the High Elves' affairs. When they entered the room, the guards stood to attention, the sound of their steeled boots hitting the floor echoing through the room. The noise make the 'guests' turned to meet the new arrivals. Kalarash stood up to greet them. He was dressed exactly as Felaol, except that he was also wearing a long green coat and a crown made of gold and silver.

'Earth and Magic be with you, my children.'

'And with you, Father.'

'We have visitors from far away with us today. Intruders, as well. But we may forgive them because of their ignorance. They say they know you, Valiele.'

'They do, from my past life among them.'

Kalarash walked down the few steps leading to his throne and came to stand in front of Hermione.

'They come to take you back. Shall we allow that? The very first witch coming to the High Elves, working to understand and master our powers, and succeeding in that, becoming the very best Feeler and one of the best Beast-Warrior we have. Shall we allow the adoptive daughter of the King to be taken away?'

'She killed a man and…'

'SILENCE!'

The man from the Ministry was thrown off his feet by the power unleashed by King Kalarash with this single word. Amazingly enough, the others weren't touched by this blast.

'Father,' Hermione began, 'we all knew that this day would come. The High Elves trained me so I would be ready when the Occident would come back and I would have to face my past and my destiny. There is no way for any of us to know if I am indeed ready. But I cannot run away. I don't want to either. I was taught to fight. And that is exactly what I'm going to do.'

Kalarash smiled at the young woman and took Hermione's hands in his own.

'Then, my proud and courageous Hermione, my dear and sweet Valiele, you have my blessing to go back on the land that saw you coming into this world.'

Kalarash kissed Hermione on her forehead, before nodding to Felaol and Elahele. The High Elf came to squeeze his adoptive sister's shoulder, before winking at her and walking swiftly out of the room. Elahele gave Hermione a light kiss on her cheek, whispering in her ear.

'Be ready to be surprised.'

Elahele smiled at Hermione before following their brother outside. Kalarash turned then his gaze to his guests.

'I will then leave you, so you can talk.'

Kalarash smiled a last time to Hermione, before walking out of the room. Hermione sighed, before turning her gaze to meet those of the Ministry and Hogwarts' envoys.

'Miss Granger…'

But Hermione held up a hand, stopping her ex Transfiguration teacher in mid-sentence.

'I know that you came here to bring me back to England. Just tell me when we're going so I can finish my bags.'

'How fast can you do it?' Severus Snape asked, his eyes locked on the five Ministry's envoys.

Hermione took a look at them as well. They seemed ready to blast the room apart.

'Give me half an hour. While you're waiting, I would suggest you tried to enjoy your stay. I'll meet you back here as soon as I'm ready.'

She turned on her heels and walked swiftly out of the room. But this was without counting on her friends. She hadn't taken a step in the corridor that the door of the throne room reopened behind her.

'Hermione, wait up.'

With a slight sigh, the young woman stopped and waited for the two young men to catch up with her. Curiously, Ron still looked the same in Hermione's eyes: a tall and thin man with red hair and freckles. But his robes were not second-hand anymore and to 'tall and thin', one could now add 'athletic-looking'. Harry, on the contrary, seemed to have changed a lot: he was still an average build, but now with solid-looking muscles, shoulder-length black hair tied in a tight ponytail and a powerful magical aura that Hermione could Feel even without trying. His green eyes had also lost all trace of youth, like Hermione's.

'You look good,' Harry said, apparently not knowing what else to say.

'Yeah. So do the both of you.'

Ron raked a hand through his hair. Then, he seemed to decide himself.

'Everyone thought you were dead. The Ministry told us you got killed while trying to escape the Aurors.'

'Believe me, that nearly happened.'

Hermione shook her head at the memory. Harry grabbed hold of her arm.

'Do you understand why we're here? The Order needs you, but the Ministry still wants you to stand trial over killing Dolohov. And there's the problem of the Prophecy.'

'What Prophecy?' Hermione asked, slightly surprised.

'A new Prophecy has been made,' Ron said, 'about the 3 of us, it would seem. The only 2 knowing it all are Dumbledore and Fudge. All we know is that we were then ordered to find you.'

'And how did you find me?'

'Looks like Dumbledore had known all along where you were,' Harry answered. 'He just told us to come here and to look for a fire-coloured unicorn.'

While they were talking, Hermione had led her friends through corridors to her room. Once there, she opened her door with a flick of her hand. The two men gasped silently. Hermione turned to look at them.

'No, it's not wandless magic,' she said with a smile. 'At least, not the way you're thinking it is.'

Luckily, Hermione had nearly finished her packing when her adoptive siblings had come to get her. The only thing she had left to do was checking her weapons. Hermione kneeled next to her bed and took a black, long and heavy-looking case from under it. Putting it on her bed, the young woman opened it. Harry, who had come near, whistled loudly as he looked inside. Laying in the case on gray velvet were a set of 3 black, single-edged, ninja swords of different lengths, and a wicked-looking knife, with a wide blade and one of the edge fanged, designed to make maximum damages when the blade was pulled out of the wound. With a grin, Hermione reached for the hidden handles and took off this layer of weapons on velvet. Three pieces of steel, a handle and a guard lay under, on more gray velvet, forming together a great sword. This layer took place on the bed, next to the ninja swords, to reveal the pieces of a sniper rifle and the form of a Smith & Wesson 9mm. Once the layer of her modern weapons was taken out of the case, Hermione's wand could be seen and a curious-looking piece of jewelry. It was a ring of white gold, linked by a chain to a bracelet, both made of the same metal. The layer of magical weapons was in turn pulled out of the case to reveal an assortment of oils, cartridges, powders, stones and other tools to keep all Hermione's weapons clean, sharp and in good working order. There were also four shrunken scabbards and several sheathes made of black leather. She took two of them and put them on, one on her right forearm, the other at the small of her back. She strapped her wand to the leather on her arm and sheathed her wicked knife at her back, before rearranging her shirt so that neither could be seen.

'And what do you intend to do with all that?' Harry asked, a glimpse of something very much like envy showing in his green eyes.

Hermione shrugged and smiled. 'I don't really know,' she said with a light voice. 'Fight, most certainly. With luck, I will kill loads of Death Eaters. And who knows, maybe I will even help killing Voldemort himself.'

As she said those words, she put the curious ring on the middle finger of her left hand and locked the linked bracelet round her wrist. But she didn't answer the silent question of her friends, eyeing the jewel wonderingly. She swiftly put the rest of her weapons back in the case and locked it, both with magic and a normal key. She then made a grab for two sport bags and her small backpack. With the latest on her back, the bags in her right hand and her case in the left one, Hermione turned to her friends.

'Ready when you are!'

But the two were looking suddenly quite uncomfortable.

'Okay, what's going on?' Hermione asked with a laugh.

'We've been given orders,' Harry said with a sad voice.

'Damn Hermione, we were ordered to get you back and take you straight for the Ministry,' Ron said quickly. 'The whole Wizengamot is already waiting for our return with you, whether you're willing or not. You're to stand trial as soon as you stepped inside the Ministry and…'

Hermione's sudden burst of laughter cut Ron's tirade.

'Don't you worry about that, guys. If the Ministry is stupid enough o imprison me when I agree to help, it's their problem. I'm not afraid to break out of Azkaban if I have to.'

With that, Hermione walked out of her room, the boys hot on her trail. They made their way back to the throne room silently and quickly. When they stepped in, Hermione realised that she had come back right on time: the five Ministry's envoys were looking very nervous, and the sight of the swords hanging at the sides of her father's guards was doing nothing to reassure them. It is only then that Hermione realised that they were not alone in the room: in addition to the envoys was a large number of High Elves, all of them well known to Hermione. Kalarash, Felaol and Elahele were standing a step ahead of all the others, each of them with a packet in their hands.

'Valiele, Princess of the High Elves.'

Hermione left her bags and case with Harry and Ron and went to stand in front of her adoptive father, but not without seeing the looks of disbelief coming from those who had come to get her. Apparently, they hadn't gathered that from their time with the High Elves. She had quite a special place here for she was not only a princess but was also the very first human to be accepted in the community. And she had worked hard and shared sweat and blood with both Felaol and Elahele in order to become half-High Elf herself.

'You came here six years ago. You took an important place in our hearts. And now that it is time for you to face your destiny, you take a part of us with you. Allow us to give you a bit more than memories.'

Kalarash took a step forward and kissed lightly Hermione on the forehead before giving her the packet he was holding.

'To remind you of all what you learnt here.'

As it was the tradition, Hermione opened the packet right there and then. Inside were two heavy books, one about herbs and other potion ingredients used in elfin potion-making, the other about elfin spells. Hermione smiled at her adoptive father. Elahele stepped forward next. She also kissed Hermione on the forehead before giving her the small present she had for her sister.

'To remind you that you will always be welcome on our lands and in our homes.'

Hermione opened the packet and tears almost immediately welled up in her eyes. Inside were a picture and a small pouch. The picture was of Kalarash, Elahele, Felaol and Hermione. It had been taken 2 years after Hermione's arrival, the day that Hermione had finally become half-High Elf. In the pouch was a ring of white gold, similar to the one she was actually wearing but with a small ruby nest in the band. A thin chain was attached to it, waiting to be linked to a bracelet. Hermione knew that this ring, if she touched the gem and said the proper words, would bring her straight back here, regardless of where she was and of what magic might be used to prevent her escape. With Elahele's help, she put the ring on her second finger and linked the chain to her bracelet. Finally, it was Felaol's turn. He gathered his adoptive sister in his arms and gave her a fierce hug. She didn't need to open his present to know that it was a sword, it was obvious.

'To remind you that you are a High Elf, a Beast-warrior and a Feeler.'

Hermione tore open the packet. It was indeed a sword, in a black leather scabbard. Hermione unsheathed her new weapon. And there was a perfect elfin sword, showing her rank and her abilities: the sword was single-edged, thin and as long as Hermione was tall; handle, guard and blade were made of a single piece of steel, engraved with vines and leaves in the traditional style of the High Elves; the non-cutting edge of the long sword was platted with pink gold, a immediate reminder to any High Elf that she was a Princess of the Blood; on the blade were also engraved several animals, both magical and non-magical, proving her abilities as a Beast-warrior; and finally, an enormous diamond had been placed as the pommel of the sword, proof of her gifts as a Feeler.

'Thanks.'

That was all Hermione could think of. Saying anything more would mean risking to loose control of herself and start crying like a baby. But her adoptive family seemed to understand perfectly what she meant with this single word and they smiled warmly. Then they parted to allow the rest of those present to say their good-byes. The tradition wanted that they stayed away from the one departing but the warmth of their voices and their eyes was nearly too much for Hermione.

'Remember that you're a High Elf now.' 'Take care of yourself.' 'Don't forget to write or to scry often.' 'If you need any help to deal with your dark wizards, I'm here.' 'So am I!' 'Just be careful.' 'And mess a lot with that Ministry of theirs.' 'We're proud of you.'

Hermione just stood there, tears showing in her eyes but stubbornly refusing to let them fall. She stood taller, prouder. And when her father finally ordered silence, she was ready for her farewells.

'I will not forget anything I've learnt here, or anyone I've met. And if Fate decides that I'm worthy of surviving this fight, I'll be back to you.'

'YOUR FOES ARE OURS AND YOUR FIGHTS ARE OURS. IF YOU CALL FOR MY HELP, I SHALL COME AND BATTLE WITH YOU!'

This was a traditional battle cry. And as every High Elf present shouted those words, they drew their swords forth, the gleaming blades promising help in time of troubles. Instinctively, Hermione had reached for her own sword, adding her voice to those of her friends and family. Now, in a total silence broken only by the sounds of hundred of swords going back in their scabbards, Hermione turned on her heels and walked back toward the wizards, while strapping her new sword on her hip. She carefully laid her new books and her family picture in one of her sport bags. Then she stood to face Minerva McGonagall.

'I'm ready.'

The old witch only nodded, apparently reluctant to break the respectful silence f the room. One of the Ministry's envoys took a large plate from under his robes and pointed his wand at it.

'Portus!'

The plate glowed blue, trembling, and then stopped. The envoys and Hermione stepped around it.

'Ready? Then at my count, one… two… three!'

Hermione grabbed the plate at the same moment than the others. She felt the powerful jerk and began traveling back to England.

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And many thanks to my first two reviewers, Dragonmaster Kurai and majestic.