By the time Hermione returned to school for her seventh and final year, she had convinced herself that she was wrong. Oh, she had no doubt that Helena Wiggentree was Helena Granger, and she had even less doubt that a slimy, megalomaniac then known as Tom Riddle had made her life into a living hell, but there was no way her father could be Voldemort's son. So she wasn't the first witch in the family. If Tom Riddle had raped her with the intentions of getting her pregnant, she would have turned her back on the magical world and gone into hiding as well. However, a witch powerful enough to be Head Girl and someone with the magical punch of Lord Voldemort would have given birth to a witch or wizard, and her father was apparently a squib. So, perfect, she wasn't the granddaughter of Lord Voldemort. Problem solved. She could put that hellish idea to bed and move on to uncovering more about her grandmother and family.
She had taken the old annual and several photos of her grandmother with her to school, intending to speak to Professor Dumbledore the first time she could. It would be easy to get time with him, since she was Head Girl. With the annual and photos secured in her book satchel, she made the trip towards the Headmaster's office after the welcoming feast for their beginning of term meeting.
"Welcome back, Granger." Draco was already waiting there, cold and sneering as usual. He had sprouted up rather well over the years and now stood a good eight inches over her. He had filled out as well, enough so that he had been forced to relinquish his place as Seeker for the Slytherin team, though now he was a Beater and Captain. Harry was still on the light and wiry side and still Seeker for Gryffindor. Ron was Captain.
"Hello, Malfoy." She would be civil to him; she was determined to be so. Seven years had given her a pretty thick skin, and she would put it to good use. He would not upset her this year. However, she didn't like the way he was looking at her. "What?"
"Nothing, Granger. Just wondering how I'm going to stomach putting up with you this year. Well have to work together most days."
She gave a lopsided smirk. "You'll manage, Malfoy. In spite of being a complete and utter jerk, you are quite resourceful." She gave him an impish grin when he scowled at her. "Now don't do that. You'll give yourself wrinkles before you time and the Slytherin girls won't think you're so handsome any longer." She scrunched her nose at him, and then knocked on the door. It swung open silently on well oiled hinges, granting them entrance to the headmaster's office.
"Ah, there you are. Come in." Dumbledore sat behind his large, heavy desk, eyes sparkling behind his half-moon spectacles. Professors McGonagall and Snape were there as well, sitting in squashy chairs before the desk. Hermione and Draco came forward into the room, taking two other chairs offered them by the headmaster. Draco nodded respectfully to Professor Snape while Hermione returned Professor McGonagall's warm, motherly smile. "We'll try to make this brief. As Head Boy and Girl it is the responsibility of you both to organize the school prefects in regards to nightly patrols as well as help the teachers maintain order. Of course, there are also errands and tasks that will be asked of you by the other teachers, but it is not the goal for us to overtax the both of you to the point that you cannot keep up with your studies." The aging wizard graced them with a grandfatherly smile. "I trust the two of you are aware that you now should be the example for the other students to look up to." Both students nodded. "Good, and you know that you can come to myself or any of the teachers should you run into trouble." They nodded again. "Excellent. Of course there will be other things for you to organize, such as the Yule ball that is being planned for this year and your own graduation ceremony. However, the hour is late and you both need to get some sleep before your classes begin tomorrow. Congratulations."
Malfoy turned to walk away, but Hermione remained. She cast a shy glance towards the professors before looking back to the headmaster. "Something more, Miss Granger?" She heard Malfoy stop behind her.
"Yes, Headmaster. I…I was wondering if you could look at something for me." She opened her satchel and took out the annual. She was about to show it to the headmaster, then stopped. Looking over her shoulder, her eyes connected with Malfoy's. She bit her lip and turned back to the desk. "It's rather private."
"I see. Professor Snape, perhaps you and Mr. Malfoy should go. I'm sure there are house matters you wish to see to."
"Of course, Headmaster." Snape jerked his head at Malfoy as he walked towards the office door. Hermione looked back at the Slytherin Prefect to note his disgruntled expression. Still, no one went against Professor Snape. He turned and left with his Head of House.
"Now then, Miss Granger, I assume that you have no qualms about Professor McGonagall remaining." She shook her head, venturing a small smile. "Well then, what seems to be the trouble?"
She took a deep breath and turned the annual around. "This is, Headmaster. It's an old Hogwarts annual from a little more than fifty years ago. I found it in an old trunk in our attic."
Professor McGonagall frowned. "You found a Hogwarts book in your attic, Miss Granger?"
"Yes, Professor. It was in a trunk of my grandmother's things." She opened the book to where the Gryffindor section began. "It was a trunk like Crouch had when he was pretending to be Professor Moody, with a magical key that opened a different compartment. When I looked through the book…" she hesitated, not sure how to go about telling him this.
"Yes, Miss Granger?" The headmaster was now holding out his hand. She was aware of the weighted gaze coming from both teachers as she walked forward and handed the book over.
"I found my grandmother, Headmaster." Her voice was soft, hesitant. Dumbledore seemed genuinely surprise as he turned the book around and then looked down at the page. A smile then formed on his lips.
"Helena Wiggentree. So that's what happened to her." His eyes came up, his expression kind. "I knew there was someone you reminded me of, Miss Granger. Head Girl, like yourself, and a joy to teach. I believe she was a second year when you came to school, Minerva."
Professor McGonagall had risen from her chair and had walked over to the headmaster's desk. "I remember her. A brilliant young woman." She looked at the picture, then up at Hermione, her smile bright. "This explains quite a bit, doesn't it? It's not unusual for a Muggleborn witch to be as talented as you are, Miss Granger, but it isn't as common as someone born from a wizarding family."
Dumbledore was looking down at the photograph again, one finger twisting in his beard. "I had wondered what had happened to her. Many of us did. Miss Wiggentree vanished without a trace, shortly after graduation. Even her family claimed no knowledge of her whereabouts." He looked up at Hermione. "So, she threw herself into the Muggle world, did she? Surprising. She had so much going for her in this world. Do you remember much about her? Any indication at all that she was a witch?"
Hermione shook her head. "Not a whisper of it. She didn't even approve of me reading anything that even hinted at magic, and I know that some of the odd things that I did by accident as a child upset her." She frowned.
"Any idea why, Miss Granger?"
Hermione was about to say something, to tell him about the dream, and then stopped. She chewed her bottom lip briefly, and then shook her head. There was a soft sound from the headmaster, as though he didn't fully believe her.
"The Wiggentrees are a very old and well respected family, Miss Granger. They are on the same social strata as the Malfoys, only more well liked. However, their road is never an easy one. They are Diviners."
Her brows snapped together. "Like Professor Trelawney?" Her family was a bunch of moony-eyed, tea leaf reading charlatans? She wouldn't believe it, couldn't believe it.
"Not quite, Miss Granger. You see, they see the past, rather than the future. Most of the family does, but in varying degrees. The majority of them have a light gift, seeing the past only in vivid dreams that refuse to leave them upon waking. Others have visions while completely awake. Still others can touch an object or person and glean information from them, though sometimes this is a hard burden to bear. There was a Wiggentree boy who was supposed to start school here in your second year, but by that time his gift was so highly developed that he was getting images from objects all the time and couldn't bear to be around large crowds of people. Objects that are known to them, common to them, are less traumatic, so he is being instructed at home. Several of your grandmother's family have been forced into isolation because of this power." He popped a lemon drop into his mouth and worried it with his tongue as he watched her.
Hermione had started looking down at the open book, staring at her grandmother's picture. It was Professor McGonagall's voice that broke through her silence. "Miss Granger, have you been showing any signs of this gift?"
"I.. I don't know, Professor. There was a dream, and it seemed real, but it could have been only a nightmare."
"You don't sound that sure, Miss Granger." Professor Dumbledore was looking at her over the top of his spectacles now.
"It's just… I had the dream before I found the annual, and when I was looking through it, there was someone from my dream in there." She gave a nervous look at the annual.
"Which person, Miss Granger?" Albus leaned forward, elbows on his desk as he studied the girl closely. She drew in a shuddering breath, or perhaps she was shuddering in revulsion, it was difficult to know which.
"Tom Riddle." There was a sharp intake of breath from Professor McGonagall. Hermione lifted her eyes to the headmaster's face.
"Did your vision suggest that perhaps Riddle played a part in your grandmother deserting our world?" Hermione licked her lips, and then nodded. She was on the verge of crying again. "Could you tell us how?"
"He…" she faltered and took a breath. "In the dream… vision… he…" She gave a frustrated sigh. "I can't, Headmaster. I just… I just can say it. It was too horrible." She would not cry. She refused to cry. Instead, she forced herself to meet the headmaster's eyes again. He was looking at her with a concerned expression.
"I see. Perhaps, Miss Granger, you would like the chance to get the memory of it out of your head?" He got up and walked over to a chest nearby, opened it, and pulled out a stone bowl. "I trust that Mr. Potter has told you all about my pensieve." She nodded, transfixed. "What I am suggesting is that you add your memories to it. That way, you will no longer be burdened by something that is clearly upsetting to you and Professor McGonagall and I can review the incident without having to put you through the trauma of repeating it." Her eyes feel to the bowl, a look of longing evident. "It's quite simple. Here, I'll show you."
He motioned her to him like a beloved grandfather and stood her before the bowl on his desk. The spell was easy enough and he guided her into removing just those memories that involved the vision. She would retain the memory of her grandmother's identity so that she could continue to look for answers about her. "Ah, excellent. Now, let one of the teachers know if you have another vision. Professor McGonagall will secure a penseive of your own to use for any that are too disturbing to you. I know I don't have to tell you that Helena leaving our world was quite a shock. If she had remained, battles may have come out differently. Her disappearance is a mystery that we have long since wanted to solve." Hermione smiled up at him, suddenly feeling a good deal lighter than when she had come in. She knew that there was something dark and foreboding that she was supposed to be worrying about, but it had faded only to a shadow. The bulk of the problem was in that little stone bowl that the headmaster was now moving to the center of his desk. "When you feel ready to revisit this particular memory again, you have only to let me know. Now, I suggest that you hurry along to bed. Don't forget your book."
Hermione took the annual and tucked it back into her satchel. With a whispered word of thanks, she left the headmaster's office and made her way to Gryffindor Tower.
~***~
Voldemort's power was growing, almost back to where it had been before. He was impeded, however, by the efforts of those who remained loyal to Professor Dumbledore. Hermione, Harry and Ron knew all about this, since at least once a year they could depend upon finding themselves battling against some nasty villain or the other whenever the Dark Lord tried to dispose of The Boy Who Lived. Perhaps they were becoming a bit too arrogant, thanks to their many near brushes with death, but they were still young and believed themselves invincible like so many young people before them.
"Hey, doesn't having your best friend as Head Girl mean you can sneak out and roam the castle at all hours of the night?"
"Oh, let me think about that." Hermione put a finger to the corner of her mouth and looked thoughtful. "Uhmm…no." She gave Ron a playful grin.
"Then what's the use of having you, then?" He laughed and gave a mock yelp of pain when she punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Oh well, guess it evens out having Dear Old Drakie as Head Boy."
Harry made a gagging noise. Hermione smacked him lightly on his shoulder. "Grow up. You two shouldn't let him get to you like he does." She bent over and was reorganizing her book satchel for the day's classes.
"But he's so annoying, Mione." Ron grinned and leaned over her, placing his chin on her shoulder. "So, how was your summer?"
"Oh, it was great!" She stood up suddenly and spun around. "I found out something I didn't know about my grandmother."
"You didn't know something? I think we should owl Rita Skeeter immediately! This will need to be written up in the next edition of Hogwarts: a History at the very least." Ron ducked another blow, but Harry started to laugh.
"I can just see it now. 'September 4th, 1998, Hermione Granger admitted that there was something she didn't know.' I think you're right, Ron. Definitely of historical importance."
"Fine, see if I ever confide in you two again." She whirled back around and picked up the satchel, slipping it over her shoulder. She turned to leave and found herself face to face with Harry's chest. She hated being short. "Yes, Mr. Potter?" Her voice was cold as she attempted to impersonate the Potions Master.
"We're sorry. What did you find out?"
She arched a brow, and then looked up at his face. He was giving her one of those sweet, innocent smiles he had perfected to enable him to lie convincingly to teachers when he was up to no good. "Very well, I found out that she was a witch."
"What?" Ron fell off of the arm of the chair he had been sitting on. "Really? I thought you were the first one in your family."
"I did as well." She backed up from Harry and moved over to claim the now empty chair, sitting in it sideways and looking down at Ron. "But there was a trunk up in the attic. I was going through it and found a magic key. When I closed the trunk and re-opened it with the new key, there were all these old school things from Hogwarts, along with this." She opened the satchel again and pulled out the annual. Hurriedly, she thumbed through the pages and found her grandmother's picture again. "Here, this is her."
Harry leaned over and looked down at a black and white photo of a pretty girl with slightly oversized teeth. Her hair was braided tightly, but a few frizzy strands were starting to escape. She smiled and waved up at the three. Ron gulped loudly beside him.
"You're a Wiggentree? Hermione! This is amazing!"
"Who are they?"
"A really old family, Harry. They're a bit odd, but they've got more money than the Malfoys. Not to mention that people respect them more than the Malfoys. This is brilliant Hermione. Wait until Draco finds out your not exactly a Muggleborn after all." He looked as though Christmas had just come early.
"No!" Hermione slammed the book shut. Her eyes had gone wide.
"What? Why not? After all the times he's insulted you because of your parents? Of course we gotta tell him." Ron looked as though keeping this secret would be the most insane idea they had ever come up with.
"No, Ron. We can't tell anyone about this, especially Draco Malfoy."
"Why not?" Harry sounded as confused as Ron looked. Why wouldn't Hermione want anyone to know? She frowned, and then shook her head. '
"I… I don't know why. I just know that we shouldn't. We need to keep this between just us and the teachers, at least for now." She sighed at Ron's frown. "I can't explain it, Ron. It's just a feeling I have."
Ron looked at her a little longer, and then nodded. "All right, Hermione. If that's what you want, we won't say a word." He smiled then. "Come on, it's time for our favorite class. Double Potions with the Slytherins. Let's go see how much we can irritate that greasy git this year."
Potions class was held in one of the dungeons. No matter what time of year it was, down here it was still cold and miserable. During the winters they would huddle around their cauldrons for warmth. The only person who didn't seemed to mind the chill was Professor Snape, the youngest of the Hogwarts teachers and head of Slytherin house. He favored his own students horrendously and despised all things Gryffindor. Harry and Ron were often subjected to the worst of his temper, followed closely by Neville Longbottom. Hermione was often ignored, simply because she rarely gave him reason to be cross with her and he couldn't take off points for potions that were always made perfectly.
Snape prowled the potions room like a caged tiger, his robes rustling behind him as he moved between the worktables. Hermione always shared a space with Neville so that she could help him as much as she could. He was getting better, but Snape still terrified him. They were working together on a complex healing potion when Snape stopped just behind them, watching over their shoulders. Neville's hands began to shake, but stilled when she reached over and lightly touched his wrist. The Potions Master's soft, silky voice drifted towards them. "Stay after class, Miss Granger." Then he was gone amidst the soft rustle of fabric.
Harry and Ron looked puzzled that Hermione had been kept behind, but she motioned for them to leave when class let out. Once the room was clear, Professor Snape had her close the door and approach his desk. He leaned forward, black eyes glinting in the firelight coming from the torches, his fingers steepled under his chin. She stood there in silence for a long, drawn out moment. Finally, he began to speak.
"The Headmaster came to visit me last night, long after you had gone to bed. He wanted me to see something, a memory you had given him." She tilted her head to one side, thinking on the dark shadow in her mind where the Bad Thing had been. "I wouldn't have thought a Gryffindor, especially you, would have been too afraid to hold onto a memory, but after viewing it, I can understand your concerns. Still, I disagree with your actions. You should have forced yourself to accept it."
He straightened up and stood from his chair. Walking around from the slightly raised platform, he came to stand before her as she turned to face him. "However, what is done is done. In light of recent discoveries, your family heritage as well as the apparent surfacing of a rare gift, the Headmaster feels that your so-called nightmare should be taken in seriousness. I find that I quite agree with him. Do you have any recollection of what it involved, Miss Granger?"
She shook her head. "I know it involved my grandmother, and I remember it also had something to do with Tom Riddle, something that he did to her, but that's all. My father is involved in some manner as well, but I can't recall what."
"I see." He motioned for her to walk with him to where a small cauldron bubbled in the corner of the classroom. "At the Headmaster's request, I began brewing this last night. Can you tell what it is?"
She looked at the contents of the cauldron. A thick, poisonous green liquid bubbled there. She took note of the color, and then looked at some remaining ingredients around it. "A patrilineage potion. They're used to prove blood lines, though they're rarely bothered with any longer." For some odd reason, she felt her stomach clenching.
"Correct, Miss Granger. The Headmaster is already writing to the Wiggentrees about your existence. I suspect you will have visitors soon. However, it is another bloodline that we are concerned about. I needed you to stay after class so that I could ask for a sample of your blood, for when it's ready. I still need to secure a sample from the other person to be tested, but I cannot be for certain when I shall have it."
She fisted her hand by her side, looking up at her teacher. Some part of her said that she didn't want to give him the sample, that she didn't want to be tested. What if the test went horribly wrong… or would it be right? Whoever it was that they were expecting had them worried. Furthermore, though she had no doubts she could trust the Potions Master as long as Professor Dumbledore trusted him, she wasn't comfortable with letting someone cut her with a blade. Snape arched a dark brow at her.
"Where's all that Gryffindor courage that has been tormenting me in class for the past six years, Miss Granger? Surely you aren't afraid of a little blade."
She bit her lip, and then shook her head. Un-fisting her hand, she offered her arm to the professor. He took her wrist into his hand gently. His fingers were surprisingly warm and gentle against her skin as he took a tiny silver sickle and pierced the delicate skin on the inside. Blood, bright and crimson, welled up as he removed the blade from her skin and picked up a glass vial. He tilted her arm and used his fingers to work the small wound so that the blood fell into the vial. She watched it fall, drop after drop, until it was half filled. A thumb moved over the cut and he whispered a soft charm. There was a tingle at the spot, and when he released her the cut was healed.
She stepped back, rubbing her wrist as he stoppered the vial. "I will keep this until we have the other sample. Once both a secured, I'll add them to the potion. You'd best hurry along, Miss Granger. I'm sure the books in the library are starting to miss you."
Hermione couldn't run fast enough.