Keep on reading!

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

Warnings: Not really that many…

Note: Pyromancy is mentioned in this—which of course is divination by fire.

Heretic

Part the Second

When Hermione's eyes opened, she was looking up at the sky through the trees. Then a furry orange face filled her field of vision. She nearly had a heart attack but she quickly realized that it was only the cat.

"Crookshanks!" She exclaimed and pushed the cat off her chest, sitting up. Then she looked up and promptly felt like fainting again.

Firenze was still there, standing there, looking as though there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. One of his hooves pawed the ground and Hermione could tell he was waiting for her to stand up again. She stood up as slowly as possible. Logically, she told herself, she had no reason to think that Firenze would hurt her, but at the same time, she absolutely no experience dealing with half-horse, half-men.

She knew she was staring and it was impolite but right then, Hermione was not terribly concerned with being polite. She decided that she should do something practical, so she brushed the leaves off of her and removed one from her bushy hair, smoothed it to the best of her ability, and straightened her clothes.

Now it was time to go back to staring.

"Are you alright?" Firenze asked kindly.

"Er, yes, I think so." Hermione was sure she wasn't injured but she reminded herself that after receiving such a shock, it was likely that her body might only think she didn't have injuries. She had read all about this phenomenon before.

Now is not the time to be analyzing things Hermione! Now is the time to be doing something!

However, Hermione was a Scholar first and foremost. Not a fighter, not a person ready to run for it at a moment's notice. And her natural curiosity caught up with her. She had to know. She had to know what Firenze was and where he had come from. How did he know Crookshanks? Where had Crookshanks come from? Questions and answers, that's what she knew best.

"Um…would it be impolite to ask what exactly…what exactly you are?" Hermione spoke hesitantly.

"I'm a centaur." Firenze replied, still looking as though this was the most ordinary thing in the world. Her, standing there, talking to a…a centaur. Whatever that was. The problem was that Hermione's mind had a tendency to shut down anytime a book started talking about magic or creatures that couldn't possible exist. This was one of those creatures that her mind had shut out—but it was right there in front of her.

"Oh. Of course." Hermione nodded, not really because she believed what she said, but because she had no other reaction. Noticing a stump, she took a seat. She opened her bag and took out a piece of parchment and a quill. She carefully put an inkwell next to her. "Could you please spell that?" He spelled it out for her and she carefully began to take notes. "Now, where did you come from?"

"Here." Firenze gestured around the forest. "I've always been here."

"Always?" Hermione lifted her gaze from her note taking. "Since the world began?"

"Not quite that long." Firenze shook his head. "I've been here for a very long time though. Since far before you were born."

"Ah." Hermione made a little note of 'before I was born' with a satisfying little scratching noise of the quill. "How come I've never seen one of you before? Neither has anyone else I know—although perhaps some of my ancestors have—there's many books in our library."

"We're not welcome by humans." Firenze sounded gloomy.

"Why not? Are you…well, you aren't violent, are you?" Hermione questioned with a slightly apprehensive air.

"Aren't humans violent?" Firenze's head tilted a little to one side.

"We are." Hermione thought about some of the wars she had read about. "But I think as a species we get very protective from others trying to hurt us. Like when a village goes and hunts down a wolf for killing sheep."

"So it is acceptable for a man to kill another man, but it would not be acceptable for a centaur to kill a man?" Firenze inquired with a knowing smile tilting his lips upwards. Hermione frowned at her piece of parchment.

"Well…you have a point." Hermione stopped to think, resting her elbow on her knee, the parchment still in her lap, and her chin in her palm, this caused her fingers, which had ink on them, to smear against her cheek—not that she ever really noticed anymore, she almost always smeared ink on her face. She tapped the quill on the paper with her other hand. "Why don't humans like you then?"

"When the last king died, the Dark Lord who took his place wanted us all killed." Firenze spoke solemnly and Hermione peeked up, her back straightening when she heard those words.

"The last king?" Hermione brightened. "Do you mean, you know all about when that happened? And what was going on?"

"I don't know everything there is to know. We centaurs knew that a time of darkness was coming to the land." Firenze gazed up at the sky. "The stars told us."

"There are more of you?" Hermione leaned forward eagerly. "Do you all live in this forest?"

"Not all." Firenze shook his head. "And there are not so many of us as there once was, so many have been slain."

"That's terrible…" Hermione trailed off. "Why don't you fight back?"

"We do not fight. This war is between men and it will only be resolved by men." Firenze did not as satisfied with this answer as he probably wanted to make Hermione think. "We have always watched the skies and the fires for signs of the future."

"I've heard of that!" Hermione jumped in. "Pyromancy, oooh, and I thought my ancestor was just being silly when they talked about people seeing signs in the fire but maybe there is something to it…"

"Humans are rarely any good at it." Firenze looked almost offended at the suggestion that this was an easily learned skill. "It takes years of study to see anything at all."

"I just don't understand why you don't fight though." Hermione looked thoughtfully up at the trees. "I mean, you can't keep your head in the future when bad things are happening here and now."

"Do you not keep your head in books while bad things are happening here and now?" Firenze's question made Hermione freeze.

She had of course always known that bad things had happened in the past—that the Granger family, no matter how unaffected they appeared to be, were still reluctant to talk about what had happened during the war or when the autocracy with the Dark Lord at its head took over and all the following horrors that were unleashed on the land. Bad things were happening at that very moment, but she was all shut away from it, only living her life in paper and ink.

"H-how did you know what I do?" Hermione asked, feeling a little startled.

"I knew we would meet today." Firenze answered simply. "I saw it in the stars. That you would come. I've had visions of you before."

"Really?" Hermione felt a little embarrassed. "They can't have been very interesting ones…"

"In the flames I saw you being taunted by other children, and that you had no where to go but to your study, to shut yourself up with the only companions who have ever welcomed you with open arms." Firenze said this is a calm voice but Hermione felt something squeeze at her chest. Her books were her only companions, the only ones who completely accepted her.

And I always told myself it was better this way…

That studying was the most important thing…I shouldn't get distracted…

But something feels like it's missing.

"Your parents cannot see beyond their own rooms, they have never embraced you, because you are all strangers. You shut your ears to the insults and the way that others avoid you—they do this to spite you, they do this because they are intimidated, jealous, frightened by you. But you are doomed to become like your parents unless you grow beyond what they have become. Unless you see the outside world…" Firenze prophetic tones were ringing in her ears and Hermione thought that it was beginning to rain, because a drop of water had fallen on her paper.

Then her hand delicately moved to her face and she realized that it wasn't a raindrop but a tear. As she pulled her hand away, she saw there was another shining on the end of her finger.

Something rubbed against her leg and she looked down dazedly to see Crookshanks there, purring loudly. She put aside her paper and Crookshanks jumped up in her lap. She scratched behind his ears fondly.

"You're a wonderful cat, aren't you Crookshanks?" Hermione smiled down at the ginger colored feline.

"Crookshanks isn't a cat." Firenze caused Hermione to look up. "Crookshanks is half Kneazle."

"What's a Kneazle?" Hermione questioned.

"Something like a cat." Firenze answered vaguely. "That's the best way to put it so you'll understand. They're very intelligent creatures and it seems that Crookshanks likes you."

"I've never had a pet before." Hermione said cheerfully. "He'll be my first cat." Crookshanks sharp claws sank into her arms. "Ow! Crookshanks!" Firenze only laughed at this.

"I think Crookshanks resents being thought of as your cat. You might as well say you're Crookshanks' human." Firenze had a very pleasant smile, Hermione thought. There was something almost fatherly about it. Not like her father, but how she thought other people's fathers probably smiled.

"That's just silly." Hermione folded her arms. Then she jumped up, sending Crookshanks to the ground with a yowl. "Oh, sorry Crookshanks—but it'll be tea time soon! I've been out in the woods for a long time—somebody will be wondering what happened to me."

"You and Crookshanks should come again." Firenze told her.

"Will you tell me more about the time that the Dark Lord took over? I want to write a history about it." Hermione asked eagerly. "And I want to know more about Kneazles and cats and centaurs, and oh, whatever else you can think of!"

"I would be happy to share my knowledge with you." Firenze bowed his head. "The other centaurs feel that we should tell the humans nothing, but you are so young and I have always wanted to share wisdom with those who come seeking it."

"I'll bring lots more paper next time." Hermione made sure to put everything in her bag. "Can I come tomorrow?"

"Yes, of course." Firenze nodded.

"Alright then, I will. Good-bye!" Hermione waved and then looked down at Crookshanks who looked a bit miffed about her dropping him. "Please Crookshanks, you're the only one of us who remembers the way back."

There was a moment where Crookshanks didn't look like he'd comply but then he got up and started walking away. Hermione waved one last time and then followed Crookshanks back through the forest.

"We've really got to hurry!" Hermione informed the cat. "If we want to make it by tea-time and Grandmother hates it when people are late."

The cat ran ahead and Hermione had to run very fast to keep up with it, as they dashed over fallen trees and through ferns. When they finally reached the end of the woods, where the grounds around the Granger House started, Hermione's cheeks were completely flushed and she tried to catch her breath for a few moments while Crookshanks impatiently waited.

A few moments later, she scooped him up in her arms and walked back to the house. The bell for tea time rang when she got inside. She dropped Crookshanks off at her study.

"I'll be back in a bit." Hermione pet him on the head. "I'm sure you can manage on your own in here—try not to make a mess." Crookshanks jumped onto her chair and settled down for a nap almost instantly.

The brunette scrambled off to tea time, arriving in the middle of Jane arguing with Benjamin about nicknames and how she shouldn't have any because her name was short enough as it is. (Though Alice pointed out that people called her Janie an awful lot—but it was a lot better than what Benjamin was calling her. ("'Ane")

Hermione wondered how they could all go through tea time so normally when she had just met a real honest to goodness centaur but then they didn't know, and they didn't pay attention to her excitement, which made her hands shake.

I'm going to learn it all and write it down and tell everyone…

That's what a Granger should do—find out everything they can about it!

Over the next few days, Hermione felt like her whole life had been turned upside down. Crookshanks was now her constant companion. Though she couldn't bring him along to meals, he followed her everywhere and she put a red collar on him with his name engraved in it. ("So no one thinks you're a stray and tries to be mean to you again." She explained.) Crookshanks had not been wild about the collar but seemed to grow used to it. Maybe the cat knew instinctively that Hermione was only trying to protect it from harm.

He slept in her bed, curled up against her, which was a nice comfort, besides the fact that he was so warm. She'd wake up in the morning and try to brush her hair before tying red ribbons in it—to match Crookshanks of course. She'd go to breakfast, steal sausages from the table, and then give them to Crookshanks.

She could also talk to him. She could tell him about anything. Hermione began to talk about anything and say anything out loud; feeling like Crookshanks could really hear her. ("You are part Kneazle, maybe you can understand me." Hermione observed.)

Every day though, after breakfast, Hermione would gather up her things in a bag and Crookshanks would lead her through the woods to their meeting spot with Firenze, who began to tell them all about the war as he knew it.

That a group known as the Death Eaters had begun attacking people and no one could figure out who they were because they wore black masks. They delighted in torturing and killing others. They were led by a very powerful wizard—

"A wizard?" Hermione had interrupted the story when Firenze was telling it. "You mean…like magic?"

"Don't you know what magic is?" Firenze looked surprised and Hermione had no idea why.

"Well, I've heard about it." Hermione took a deep breath. "But it isn't actually real and even if it was, nobody can do it anymore…" She saw the knowing look on Firenze's face. "Unless…there really is…magic." She saw that this was correct and that she had been wrong. "Oh, bother."

"Magic is very real." Firenze gestured at Crookshanks who was batting at an insect as it made its way across the forest floor. "Crookshanks is a half-magical creature."

"But if there is magic and people still use it, then how come I've never heard of anyone using it?" Hermione asked logically.

"That's because it has been outlawed." Firenze explained. "Isn't it called 'processing'?"

"Is that what they're looking for!" Hermione gasped. "But I always thought by strange births they meant something like deformities or mutations, or something like twins."

"Those things are looked into as well, but the Dark Lord declared that no one shall learn magic—though from the signs we know that those in power still learn it." Firenze had a troubled look to him. "They know all about the magical creatures in the land. And they know about my people as well." Hermione almost pointed out that Firenze was a magical creature but decided that it would probably be rude and she didn't want to offend him.

"How can they possibly catch them all?" Hermione questioned. "I mean, how do they know that they've killed all the babies with magic?"

"They don't." Firenze gave her a very significant look that confused her greatly.

The tale of the war continued. A wizard by the name of Voldemort, who became the Dark Lord or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (for some superstition had it that if you spoke his name, his attention would come to settle on you) led this band of terrorists as they killed and strengthened in numbers. The Royal Guard couldn't stop them. The only wizard who had the power to stand up to Voldemort was a great man named Albus Dumbledore who gathered together those who wished to oppose Voldemort but, at the last minute, before the attack on the capitol and the murder of the King, something happened to Dumbledore.

"What?" Hermione broke into the story again.

"No one knows." Firenze shrugged. "He just disappeared and it couldn't have been at a worse time either. The attack went through and the new leaders were named."

"But no one just disappears, especially someone important like that." Hermione insisted. "Surely, someone has to know something…"

"It might be that the only man who knows that is Dumbledore himself." Firenze said in his usual slow, wise way.

"But he's dead now, isn't he?" Hermione questioned.

"There are rumors that he is not dead, that he is rallying people together once more, to help defeat Voldemort." Firenze's eyes did the usual flick towards the sky. Hermione knew he wished that it was night time so he could gaze at the stars. "The stars are waiting, waiting for someone to come…"

"Who?" Hermione inquired.

"That knowledge I cannot share with you." Firenze put a hand on top of her head. "But the reason that the Dark Lord has those who can perform magic killed has much to do with a prophecy that was uttered many years ago."

"A prophecy?" Hermione repeated.

"A prophecy that proclaims one will be born who can defeat him and he shall be born as the seventh month dies…" Firenze had a faraway look in his eyes.

"A baby born in July?" Hermione spoke as she scratched that down on the piece of paper she had on her lap. "So why does he kill the children born in during any other month?"

"Because he wishes to be sure." Firenze's answer made him seem all that more ancient and distant. "What humans do not understand is that Fate is not something you can deceive or bend to your will, it will always go as it is supposed to. His rein of power has gone on too long, but it will end, as all things end."

Hermione wondered if Firenze was right, if all things really did end…because that meant that everything, even the good things, eventually were no more.

If it is always changing, how do we know when it will go from bad to peaceful times, and then back again?

Jill Granger was the only person who really noticed that Hermione was not spending her days in her study. Most unusual. She watched the bushy-haired girl as she walked towards the woods one morning, a ginger-colored cat walking ahead of her. How odd.

What could little Miss Perfect possibly be doing day after day?

She sincerely hoped it was something bad. She would just love to see Hermione get punished for something. Now, there had to be a way to find out. Hermione was probably very trusting—probably didn't lock the door to her own study.

Jill carefully made her way down the hall to where Hermione's study was and looked around fervently. Getting caught poking around somebody's private study was looked down upon. She closed the door behind her and looked around. Hermione's study was a lot bigger than her own. (This was actually not true but Jill thought it was.)

There were papers and books and inkwells and quills everywhere, it looked just like every other study, but there had to be something.

She walked over and began shuffling through the papers. A word caught her eye and she sat down in the chair that Hermione had always hunched over her work in and read carefully.

Magic, something I have always believed to be a fairytale is apparently a real and true thing. Firenze informed me that a wizard or witch could only use magic through the means of a wand—a thin piece of wood. When I asked why, he said it was because magic was very hard to focus and that these "wands" could concentrate the magic. Usually, the wand must also be accompanied with words to form a spell. I do not know how magic factors into animals, such as Crookshanks. If they possess magical abilities, why don't they have wands? If only there was some way to experiment!

Jill's mouth hung open. Hermione Granger, pride of the entire Granger family was writing about magic like it was real! And animals having it too! Fancy that! She gave a wicked laugh of delight when she realized that these papers were just what she was looking for.

Clearly Hermione had studied too hard and too fast and her mind had simply cracked. Why, Jill wouldn't be surprised to find out that this Firenze character wasn't actually real. Just a figment of an overworked mind's imagination.

"It's too good!" Jill gathered up the other papers, seeing that they were all written about the same things. "Magic and divination and a prophecy! Why, when everyone finds out that she's crazy, she'll be laughed at for sure! See how she likes that." Jill's head was filled with grand visions of everyone realizing that Hermione was a fraud and that Jill was the truly great one of the two.

Jill would be held up higher than her cousin, she would get a special seat at the Head's table, and she would be the next in line for that position. A small voice in her head asked what exactly Hermione had done—and why Jill had to show all these papers to people. It was well known that many of the Granger household members were a bit odd—Great Aunt Michelle had once been convinced that little creatures were hiding in the bathtub, waiting to get her—but there was no need to make a great fuss about it.

Ah yes, Jill, put the papers down, be a good girl with your head down and let Hermione pretend to be perfect.

With a stubborn twist to her mouth, she rushed out of the study. She wouldn't allow this any longer. It just wasn't fair!

The Head and several other members of the family were gathered around a table in the library where they all seemed to be looking over some documents. Jill approached them, clearing her throat loudly but only one or two even bothered looking up.

"Look here!" Jill stamped her foot and the Head looked at her with such an awful glare that Jill almost apologized. "S-see what I've got! Hermione's gone mad!"

"What nonsense are you spewing?" The Head arched her eyebrows and Jill held out the papers, which the family members took. Some stopped to read them and some just passed them directly to the Head. There were gasps and looks of shock and horror on some of their faces.

"See, it's like I said!" Jill felt very self-satisfied. "Hermione's—"

"It is forbidden to write of such things!" Aunt Harriet stood up. "Hermione's really gone and done it this time—"

"What are we going to do Grandmother?" Aunt Alice's eyes were as wide as they could possibly go.

"Now, now, I believe Hermione didn't mean any harm." Great Aunt Michelle stated and Henry gasped in amazement.

"She got her name right!" Henry stage whispered to the other people at the table.

"This is very serious; Hermione must be found and brought to me at once!" The Head stood up, ordering the others.

"This isn't just something you can slap her on the wrist about!" Cousin Stan, who was very big on the law protested.

"Now, Stan," Aunt Alice began but he cut her off.

"Don't you patronize me! I won't stand for this, do you hear me? The law must be obeyed!" Stan turned and rushed out of the room.

"Oh I hope Scott doesn't do anything silly." Michelle rested a hand on her cheek in a dreamy sort of way.

"I better go after him." Jane stood up, peppermint stick stuck in her cheek. "He might do something really awful…" She went after him.

"He probably went to tell the Guard." Harriet looked self-righteous. Stan was her son.

"The Guard!" The Head's nostrils flared. "Just what does he think he's going to do? Jane better bring him back here. We'll deal with Hermione ourselves." Jill stood there, looking forgotten.

The Guard. Forbidden things. Was this more than she thought might happen? Was Hermione really going to get in serious trouble? Jill didn't want to be in the library anymore. She suddenly wished she hadn't done anything at all. Hermione had never been spiteful to her, she had just imagined that all. And now she had ruined Hermione's life.

You…you get what you deserve!

Jill fled the room.

To Be Continued