Pseudo Cinderella and the Slytherin Prince
Introduction
Third Person POV
NOTE TO READERS/REVIEWERS:
I originally started this story with Shimby Kori, but I ended up doing the most work on it and she lost interest. I love this story and am so proud of it, that I decided to move it to my own pen name. This is actually the THIRD time this story's been posted, because...well, I just kinda lost interest for a few months and decided that when I came back, I wanted to start fresh. However, it is the same story, with a little editing. I hope to make this story a long one, and hope you will come along for the long journey. Although, I cannot make any promises as to how frequently and consistently chapters are posted. But I love to write and I love Harry Potter, So hopefully I will do it some justice. By the way, I have a lot to say, if you haven't noticed. So, I really hope you like this! XD
Hermione brushed off her robes. She had just come from the Weasleys' fireplace, after spending the afternoon with Ron, Harry, and Ginny.
"Hermione! Can you come to the kitchen please, dear?" called Mrs. Granger to her daughter. Hermione obediently made her way to the kitchen. When she opened the door, however, Albus Dumbledore sat in a chair at the kitchen table, across from Hermione's parents.
"What's wrong…?" Hermione didn't know whether or not to panic. The headmaster of Hogwarts was at her house. In her kitchen.
"Please, Ms. Granger, take a seat," the ancient professor said, calmly. Hermione did as she was told. "Now, your parents have something to tell you. And they thought it best that Ibe present to clear up any questions that they cannot answer themselves."
Hermione was just about to lose it. Even though she seemed reserved and self-controlled, she couldn't stand suspense almost at all. "Well, what is it, Headmaster?"
"Hermione, sweetheart," her father continued instead. "We have something to tell you that may come as a surprise." He paused to let out a sigh. "Your mother and I, well, we're not who you may think we are."
"Wha-what do you mean?" Hermione was starting to panic.
"Well, you're mother and I, we're…well…" Mr. Granger attempted to continue.
"We're not that different from you, Hermione." Mrs. Granger finished what her husband was trying to say.
"What are you saying, Mum?" Hermione was now thoroughly confused.
"Ms. Granger, you are familiar with the term, 'squib?'" Dumbledore asked, well, more like stated. Hermione nodded, still not 100 sure where this was going.
"Yes, of course. A squib is someone who was born with wizard blood, but cannot perform magic."
"Yes, that is correct. Now, I bet you've been wondering these past six years why, exactly, if you are a muggle-born, you are the brightest witch Hogwarts has ever seen." Of course she had. Well, mostly she'd just assumed she was a freak of nature. "Well, the reason is, you're not really muggle-born." Hermione's eyes went wide. She couldn't tell apart her emotions. She was shocked; it was such a surprise, yet it made sense. She was overjoyed; she finally had an answer to the question that had been haunting her since she got that first letter from Hogwarts. But most of all, she was furious! Why hadn't her parents told her? Well, they were about to now, even though Hermione had obviously alreadyfigured it out.
"Hermione, we're squibs, your father and I. The reason you're a witch is because you have magical blood in you. We have magical blood in us, too. We just didn't know when to tell you," Mrs. Granger explained to her daughter.
"But WHY? Why have you been keeping this from me?" Hermione's hormones were beginning to get to her.
"I can explain that, Hermione," the Headmaster stated, gently but firmly, so Hermione would calm down. "I decided that, with the war going on, and certain risks being present, that now would be an appropriate time to tell you." He had a point. "But there is something else, which also ties in with the war. More particularly, where your loyalties lie." Once again, Hermione's eyes went wide.
"You see, Hermione, our blood isn't just magical. It's pure." Hermione's heart jumped into her throat and fell through her stomach at the same time at her father's words.
"I know it doesn't seem possible for squibs to be purebloods," Dumbledore continued, "but this is the case. You, Hermione Granger, are a pureblooded witch, which explains why you are so powerful. Now, I bet you can guess why I'm questioning where your loyalties lie." She could. It was obvious. Purebloods fought for the Dark Lord, and everyone else, well, everyone that wasn't in Slytherin, fought against him. The only pureblooded families that Hermione knew of thatwere completely against the Dark Lord were the Weasleys and the Longbottoms.
"Y-you-you're k-kidding me. You've got to be. How can this be? I don't understand." Hermione could simply not control herself any longer. She stood up, whole body shaking, and intended to leave the room. The she remembered the headmaster of her school was there. So she just stood shaking in place.
"The reason we're not helping the Dark Lord, Hermione, besides the fact that we can't, is because we sort of separated from our line when we married. That is why no one else in our family knows about your being a witch. We didn't want you to have to choose, especially after you became friends with that Potter boy." Her mother's words did not sound hurtful, but they stabbed at Hermione a little.
"That is why, Ms. Granger, we have left the decision up to you. You are almost a seventh year, after all, and seventeen is a year full of hard decisions." Dumbledore started to get up, gathering the few things he had brought with him. As he turned towards the door, he pulled something out of his pocket. "I almost forgot. This is your annual letter, with your school supplies list and what not." He bade the Grangers farewell, and, while in the doorway, said to Hermione, "And congratulations, Ms. Granger. This year we will have heads with at least one thing in common." And with that, he left. Twinkling eyes and all.