Hello! This is the second story in my Inferiorum series but, before you go, "Crap, I haven't read the first story." It is perfectly fine to read this story first because it won't really spoil anything in the first story. (But if you want to hop off and read Doppelganger first, that's fine.) The first five stories in this series can be read in any order. So, have at thee!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or its characters.

Warnings: Cruelty to animals.

Heretic

Part the First

"Character is higher than intellect."

Ralph Waldo Emerson

It was a busy day at the Granger household. Well, everyday was a busy day at the Granger household. With the entire Granger family—which was very well extended, there was usually something happening. At any given time, one could stick their head out their bedroom door and see four or five family members rushing past, usually loaded down with books, papers, pens, and ink.

Although some people complained that all the rushing around bothered them when they were in their private studies, Hermione often said that the noise helped her think. When the thumping of feet could be heard up and down the halls, Hermione would simply turn another page in her book and proceed with taking notes.

But that was Hermione Granger, who was considered a true Granger since she picked up her first book (at age three) and taught herself how to read. She received her own study at the age of five—something that was usually unheard of until a Granger hit the age of seven, when their schooling started. Now that she was twelve, Hermione didn't even have lessons with the other children her age. The matriarch of the family, the eighty-year-old Grandmother Granger (who was always referred to as 'The Head') often came by and patted Hermione on the head, something that shocked the older members of the family because Grandmother Granger was so strict and critical of others that most of the children were too scared to even talk to her. Many of the adults felt the same way.

But Grandmother Granger was the Head of the family and that meant when she died, she'd appoint a new head of the family. From what most people could see, Hermione Granger might be the youngest Head ever named. Some feared that Hermione would grow a large head over all this but she didn't, she seemed perfectly content to lock herself away for hours at a time to sit in her study and read volume after volume, taking notes, writing some of her own books on subjects. Usually a Granger would have to be very learned on a subject and have years of study before they were allowed to submit a book to the infamous Granger library but Hermione was an exceptional child.

The Granger family as a whole was famous for producing wonderful tutors and learned scholars. From the age of seven, children were schooled in everything that nobility preferred their children's education to include. Philosophy, Literature, Maths, History, that sort of thing. When nobility requested a tutor, the Granger family could provide one.

Of course, they weren't always the Granger family. At one time they had been the Most Intelligent House of Granger. But that was back before the King had fallen.

"I can't understand why we don't have any histories from that time." Hermione frowned at the rows of books in front of her in the Library. "And nobody ever talks about it either."

Hermione decided that one day she'd write a large volume on the history of that time so that future generations and the present ones would know it. She thought she'd ask the Head to help her but the Head had only gazed down at her with that steely look she gave everyone and told her that nobility now-a-days wouldn't have it and it was best left alone.

This didn't really satisfy the young girl but she didn't really understand the whole situation of the land. There were obvious things, like the processing of strange births, and all that but she figured that if the people hadn't revolted yet, it must be because whoever was in charge was doing a fairly decent job.

But then, if someone lives in a very large house surrounded by large gardens and forest, far from the outside world, they tend not to see the outside world.

Hermione really didn't like the 'processing'. It wasn't even called that in the Granger household. It was usually euphemized down to something like, "Did Cousin Carol have her baby yesterday?" "Oh yes, but it didn't quite make it." "Ah."

"I think it's unfair. Nature is full of anomalies." Hermione protested once. "After all, trees don't look exactly the same. They branch out differently."

"Yes, dear, I know." Her mother had nodded absent-mindedly. Hermione's parents were not really bad parents, but they weren't necessarily good parents either. Scholars have a tendency to be wrapped up in their own studies and forget about the outside world. Hermione's parents had always figured that since Hermione had plenty of her own studies and had never been a problem child, that she would be perfectly fine left to her own devices. Plus, once a week, they met for tea, which one or more of them were usually reading a book during, so it didn't really make much of a difference.

Also, her parents had figured that one couldn't possibly get lonely in the Granger household. Hermione had forty-six first cousins, and twenty-three of those were at or around her own age. And that was just the first cousins.

But Hermione did feel lonely sometimes. The other kids her age around the house didn't seem to enjoy studying. She would look out the window of her study and see them playing a game of Blind Man's Bluff and thinking wistfully of what it would be like to join them. Anytime she tried to spend time with the other people her age, they weren't very nice to her. Usually they called her stuck-up for not coming out and playing with them sooner.

"It's the Head's precious pet!" One of her second cousins taunted. "Should we bow?"

She had wisely decided to stay in her study after that.

Her schedule day after day was the same, with small variations that weren't usually worth mentioning. She would wake up in the morning, get dressed, tie her hair back with a blue ribbon (even though this was usually not much help as her hair was very bushy and usually got worse when she brushed it), and then go downstairs for breakfast. There were three dining rooms, each one designated for different age groups. The children all sat in one, until they were fifteen, and then they got to sit in the second dining room which was for the adults, and then the third was where the Head and all the most important or well-learned members got to sit. Tradition had been snapped in two when on her twelfth birthday Hermione had been taken from the children's dining room and given a seat at the Head's table.

On this particular day, Hermione passed one of her first cousins (Hermione was an only child) on her way to the large doors that one had to go through to get to the Head's dining room.

"Hello Jill." Hermione greeted her cousin brightly. She had always rather liked Jill, who always seemed to be studying or, if she met Hermione in the library, would ask what Hermione was doing and how far she was on that, and a few other questions.

"Hello Hermione." Jill spoke in a cool voice. Hermione went through the doors and didn't notice that her cousin had stopped to glare at her back. What Hermione did not know was that Jill hated Hermione.

Technically, it wasn't Hermione's fault but Jill couldn't help but hate her. Every time Jill did something, it didn't matter because Hermione had already done it and in a way that was five times better than the way Jill had done it. Her own parents kept telling her to be more like Hermione and Jill was so sick of the way that Hermione got so many special privileges that she could scream.

At first she had liked Hermione. When she was seven, she was in classes with Hermione, who had already had her own private study for two years so she wasn't as excited as Jill had been. Hermione had quickly become the head of the class and Jill was always lagging right behind her, trying desperately to either be on the same level or pull ahead of her accomplished cousin. But then Hermione had gotten so far ahead of the class that the teacher discussed the idea with the Head that Hermione should be allowed to go into her own studies. Jill would have to wait until she was fifteen to get out of classes. Every time Hermione did something that made others talk about what a true Granger she was, Jill felt like Hermione had only done it so that she could rub Jill's face in the matter.

One day, I'll be better than you, Hermione.

Jill turned on her heel and walked off in the opposite direction. Hermione had not noticed that at all as she was to busy greeting the people at the Head's table. There was Great Aunt Michelle, who was so absent-minded that she could never remember anyone's name and often called people by the wrong one altogether; Great Uncle Henry, who would rattle on and on about logic and brought the concept of Logic into absolutely everything ("Therefore, logically, I should put pepper on my eggs."); Cousin Jane, who was twenty-nine and so was always being told by others that she needed to marry someone but Jane had an unfortunate habit of always sucking on peppermint sticks, even at mealtimes; the Head, who barely ever spoke and when she did, all the chatter among the people at the table would stop abruptly so that everyone could hear, and who no spoke to unless spoken to—except Great Aunt Michelle who usually forgot who the Head was. Plus a great many other eccentric aunts, uncles, and cousins. Hermione's own parents didn't even have seats at the Head's table.

"Good morning everyone." Hermione smiled at the family members, some of who greeted her and some of who only waved because their mouths were full. The Head gestured towards Hermione's seat and the twelve-year-old girl sat down and started helping herself to the trays of food on the table.

"Janie, dear," began Aunt Alice, who was spreading marmalade on a piece of toast and using the knife to gesture. Jane looked up, a peppermint stick sticking out of the corner of her mouth. "I saw you talking to that nice young man who delivers the milk, what's his name?"

"Adam." Great Aunt Michelle named off immediately.

"You don't even know my name and we've been sitting across each other like this for twenty-five years, so logically, his name isn't Adam." Great Uncle Henry retorted.

"It's Robert." Jane took the peppermint stick out of her mouth. "You're thinking of my cousin Adam, Auntie Michelle."

"Oh, oh that might have been it…" Michelle nodded to herself. "Anyways, go on Alyssa."

"Alice." Alice corrected her. "Anyways, I saw you speaking to that nice Robert. He's a fine chap, isn't he?"

"Little 'Mione, could you pass the butter?" Her second Cousin Benjamin, who was recently a tutor to the Lestrange Family before he was let go because the child died. Benjamin was alright but seemed to always be trying to get revenge for the fact that everyone called him 'Ben' and so called everyone by shortened versions of their names. Hermione passed him the butter.

"He wanted to know if I had a peppermint stick to spare." Jane shrugged her shoulders before pushing up her thick glasses that magnified her eyes. "I did, so I gave him one."

"So you have similar tastes." Alice beamed. "Well that's just fantastic, because I was thinking that you could—"

"Delivery boys do not make good scholars." The Head said shortly and Alice drooped a bit.

"You mustn't be so hard on Elaine." Michelle told the Head in a wandering voice.

"Alice." Alice looked a bit peeved. "It was only a suggestion, Jane would make a wonderful mother and it's high time that she got married."

"Grandmother says I don't have to get married if I don't want to." Jane pushed her plate of half eaten food away. "And I don't want to."

"Logically—" Henry began but was cut off.

"Oh Harry, we don't need anymore logic today." Michelle gave him an annoyed look. "You'll prattle all day long about it. Let's not have any logic at breakfast."

"No logic at breakfast! My dear woman—" Henry looked terribly affronted.

"Now, no one needs to fight, now do we?" Hermione's old cousin Marlowe, who was about sixty broke in. He was terribly patient and always saying that others didn't take the time to see things anymore. "Let's just have a calm breakfast. Alice, its Jane's own business if she wants to get married. Michelle, do try to learn some names, and Henry, you know you can get a bit carried away sometimes." Marlowe had a very calm voice that instantly made everyone go back to their breakfast.

"Hermione." The Head addressed the young girl who sat up sharply. "What are your plans for the day?"

"Well, I was just finishing up a book on the travels of Farold Granger." Hermione piped up. "And then I was going to start a new book on various flowers and plants that you can find in the forest surrounding us. I was even thinking of going out and collecting examples as well."

"Keeping busy then." The Head nodded her approval. "Good. When you finish your breakfast, you can go."

The rest of breakfast was spent in a debate about whether or not a werewolf could possibly exist and if so, how, which Hermione left during, but before she went, she saw Henry trying to make a logical argument and using a butter dish to prove his point.

Sometimes she thought that though they were all brilliant, they were also a little bit crazy as well. Hermione couldn't believe they were talking about werewolves of all things. She didn't believe in anything like that. In fact, the book she was reading on the travels of Farold Granger had caused her a bit of eye rolling when she got to the part of the Snowlands to the North. He was talking about ice fairies.

"Superstitious nonsense." Hermione had muttered.

But now that she was finished, she could get to a far more sensible text on the properties of plants and flowers found in that area. When she looked out the window to see that it was overcast, but didn't quite feel like rain, she decided it might be the perfect day to engage in a nice walk into the woods. She gathered up the book, some papers, a quill, and two jars of ink into a bag, before getting her black overcoat and heading outside.

As she walked and read (which she was very experienced in), she kept clear of the other kids her age, who were all moaning as they went off to classes, and went around several hedges before having to walk down a well worn path, to a bridge, that crossed a small stream, and then, a little bit more into the woods.

"Now, let's see," She flipped a few pages in to an illustration of a certain kind of flower which was supposed to make a very calming tea of used properly. Why, she could make a wonderful little display board for any specimens she collected. She could pin the plants down and make lovely little labels for each one, and then mount it in a frame with a large pane of glass over it—it made her feel excited to embark on that project. Then she could put it on her wall in her study and others could use it as well.

But she was momentarily distracted when she heard some voices and a spitting, hissing noise that made her look up from her book. A little bit into the woods, a group of younger cousins, who were no doubt skiving off classes standing there, taunting something and throwing stones at whatever it was.

Hermione marched over in an authoritative manner, knowing that they were obviously doing something wrong. She saw as she approached that the thing was a large ginger-colored cat, with a slightly squashed looking face. Its back was arched and it was hissing furiously at the boys who kept throwing stones at it.

"You boys!" Hermione's voice made the five boys turn and see who it was. "You leave that cat alone! It didn't do anything to you! I bet you're all supposed to be in classes too."

"It's Hermione! Run for it!" One boy yelled and they all took off, out of the woods. Hermione pursed her lips for a moment as she watched them.

"It's Hermione!"?

What am I, some sort of monster?

Her attention went back to the cat who was regarding her rather warily. Hermione dropped down to her knees and looked back at the cat.

"Hello." Hermione said after a moment, though she wasn't really sure why. It's not as though the cat could talk or understand a single word she said. "I'm Hermione Granger and I'm sorry if those boys were mean to you."

The cat took a step forward, and then another. Before she realized it, the cat had jumped into her arms. Hermione stood up, holding the bundle of thick ginger-colored fur in her arms rather securely.

"You're a nice cat, aren't you?" Hermione beamed at it. "Those boys were mean. You seem quite nice to me." The cat then jumped out of her arms and turned to look at Hermione very hard before walking about ten feet away and then pausing and looking very hard at the bushy-haired girl.

Does it…want me to follow it?

She had never encountered such strange behavior in an animal before. There were a few pets around the Granger household, but mostly they were small things that wouldn't wander about, like mice or birds.

Hermione took a hesitant step forward and the cat went forward a little further, and so she kept going. Soon she found that the cat was leading her deeper and deeper into the woods.

"I do hope you know the way back." Hermione realized that she didn't really know how far in she was. The cat took no notice of this and they kept going. Hermione tripped over a tree root and the cat seemed impatient as she pulled herself up and brushed herself off.

Oh, really! I'm the one who fell.

"What should I call you?" Hermione pondered. "I mean, there are all sorts of names I could give you. How about Ginger?" She suggested, thinking about the cat's coloring. "But that seems so ordinary, doesn't it? I bet you think I'm a little strange, talking to you like this but I don't talk to very many people and you're a very good listener. You don't ever interrupt." She giggled a bit. "Maybe I'll call you 'Mione. That's what Cousin Benjamin calls me and it's ever so annoying. Help me out a bit, cat. What should your name be?" She noticed that the cat was sitting perfectly still and she looked around curiously. She didn't see anything. Why had the cat led her here?

This is what I get for following a cat around…

"The cat's name is 'Crookshanks'." A deep male voice told her.

"Crookshanks, now that's a perfect name!" Hermione clapped her hands together and then froze. She turned very slowly to see who had spoken and her mouth went into a little 'o' of surprise.

The man who had spoken wasn't a man at all. He looked like a man from the waist up but from the waist down, he had the body of a horse. Four legs, a tail, everything. Hermione had never seen anything like that.

"He barely ever brings company. I'm Firenze." The half-man, half-horse introduced himself. Hermione did a very un-sensible thing right then.

She fainted.

To Be Continued