Hermione bit her lip, rereading the paragraph in her textbook for what must've been the 100th time.

It was the middle of October now, and she hadn't seen Perseus outside of class the entire year, and she really wanted to ask him more about the peerage system in the wizarding world, and about the Ministry of Magic. About everything .

She needed to know more about the place she was probably going to be spending the rest of her life, and books on the matter were surprisingly scarce. The library didn't have a single book on either topic.

The books Perseus lended her had done a good job painting a picture in broad strokes. How the Ministry was established, the founding of the ICW, and it spoke in depth about wars and other conflicts. But it didn't speak on the important things. The causes behind the wars or even the organization of the Ministry or the ICW. She couldn't even find out if the minister was an elected official.

Their bank was run by Goblins. What did that mean for the economy? Were witches and wizards expected to pay taxes? Was the Wizengamot similar to Parliament? Did the Ministry of Magic have a military? Were there Universities in the magical world? Would she need some sort of degree to get a good job?

Before Hogwarts, she'd had almost her entire life planned out. She was going to attend Oxford University, where she'd get a law degree, become an MP, before eventually ascending to become Prime Minister. That had been her plan. And the wave of a wand, Professor McGonagall turning her kitchen table into a pig, was all it took to derail those plans, and it was time she started making new ones.

There were so many questions flying through Hermione's brain it was impossible to concentrate on the work she was trying to do, and that was completely unacceptable.

Her options were few; she could try to meet with Perseus, something that could be tedious, or she could ask her other friend who grew up in the wizarding world, had a father who worked in the ministry, and was a pureblood at that.

Putting her books away quickly and neatly, she tucked them into her satchel, which she noted was becoming a bit too small for her increased workload.

She headed down the stairs, immediately spotting Ron and Harry off to the side, playing chess.

She had no idea why Harry kept playing Ron in chess. Ron trounced him every time, and Harry showed no signs of improving. Ron was actually quite good at the game, much to her surprise.

"Ron," Hermione said, coming to stand right beside them.

"Not now, Hermione," Ron said, his eyes locked onto the board.

She rolled her eyes. "Honestly Ronald, the game is over, you could checkmate him right now if you wanted."

Ron glanced at her, before turning back to the board, his brow furrowed. It took him only a second to see the same thing she saw. Perhaps she had overestimated his ability, if he had missed such an obvious move.

Moving his bishop accordingly, Harry's king capitulated, throwing his crown at his feet, and shooting Hermione a rude gesture.

"How'd you know that?" Ron asked, shooting her a suspicious glance.

Hermione rolled her eyes again. It never failed to amaze her how oblivious Ron could be. Hermione simply wasn't interested in the game, she found it far from mentally stimulating. That wasn't to say she couldn't play it though.

"I wanted to ask you something, Ron," she said, crossing her arms. It might've been worth it just to wait for Perseus, as long as this was taking.

Ron looked surprised, sharing a glance with Harry, who shared an equally surprised look back. "Um, yes?"

"What do you know about the wizarding world?"

Ron blinked owlishly at her.

"Well?" she demanded.

"Well I- what do you want to know?" he stammered, face turning pink.

"Did you know Harry was from a noble family?" she asked, glancing at them both. "That he's a Viscount?"

"What?" Harry said, green eyes wide behind his round frames. She really needed to make him buy himself some new glasses. "Where did you learn that?"

"It's all rubbish anyway," Ron said. "Nobody really cares about that stuff."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't the noble families run the Wizengamot?"

Ron paused for a second. "Well, yes but-"

"So how can you possibly say no one cares, when clearly it's very important?"

"What's the Wizengamot?" Harry said, his brow furrowed.

"Bunch of arrogant old codgers, the lot of them," Ron said, in the same manner he talked about Slytherins. "Looking down on everyone with all their money," he spat.

Hermione was only partially surprised by the outburst. She'd gotten a small picture of the politics of Magical Britain from her research and Perseus' history books. Based on what she knew, she would classify Ronald as the opposite of a blood purist, without all the political beliefs. He hated rich pure bloods on principle, whether they were purists or not, and he threw slytherins in with that group as well. In fact, she'd say he wasn't far from being a bigot in his own right. Perseus had never expressed any like or dislike for any muggleborn other than herself, but he rarely expressed anything for anyone, so that wasn't exactly indicative of his beliefs.

"The Wizengamot is both Magical Britain's legislative and judicial body," Hermione said, recalling what she'd read in one of the few books she'd found on the topic. The book had been quite biased, leaning heavily towards the progressive side, even going as far as to call the conservatives "dark". "It's made up of Nobles, the department heads of the ministry for magic, and anyone holding an Order of Merlin."

"And my family is a noble family?" Harry asked, looking stunned.

Ron frowned, looking uncomfortable, but he nodded.

"What is a Viscount?" asked Harry, looking at her.

It didn't surprise Hermione that Harry didn't know much about peerage. She only knew as much as she did because her parents were technically the Royal Dentists.

"A Viscount is the second lowest Noble rank, just after Baron, which is what Malfoy's father is."

Harry looked stunned, while Ron actually laughed out loud. "Can you believe it?" Ron said, still laughing. "You outrank Lucius Malfoy!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. One second, it's all rubbish, the next, it's some great achievement.

She hoped this new information wouldn't go to Harry's head, though she doubted it would. Perseus was the last Duke in all of Magical Britain and he still wasn't as famous as Harry. People looked when Perseus walked the alley, when Harry walked the alley he'd be lucky if he wasn't mobbed. Besides all that, Harry really wasn't the type.

"Are there any other nobles at Hogwarts?" Harry asked, the same way she'd asked Perseus.

Ron nodded. "A bunch. All of Slytherin, pretty much," he said with distaste. "And then there's Neville, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, Ernie Macmillan-"

Hermione cut him off. "There are a lot of them, yes."

"You said I was the second lowest rank, right?"

Hermione nodded.

"So there are people at Hogwarts ranked even higher than me?" he asked. Hermione thought she might have heard a bit of trepidation in his voice.

"Yes," Hermione said. "After Viscount is Earl, Marquess, and finally Duke," she looked around the common room, finally spotting her target. "Neville is a Marquess for example, and there's only one person in the entire country who outranks him."

Both Harry and Ron looked at her in surprise, before asking the obvious question. "Who?"

Hermione had to fight down a smirk, trying to keep her tone as matter of fact as possible. "He's actually in our year," she said. "He's a Slytherin named Perseus Black, The Duke of Camelot."


Perseus had just left Lockhart's class, and he was fuming. He knew the man was a fraud, but he'd held out hope that he'd be good for something , but after a month of classes, the man had well and truly proven himself to be a bumbling idiot.

He'd heard rumors of him being incapable of subduing a Cornish pixie, but today had truly been a step beyond.

If Perseus were any slower with his wand, he, and likely a dozen other students, would've been infected with Mortis Bat bites!

The idiot they called a professor had crashed his hand down against their open cage, disturbing them in the middle of the day—something even Perseus, a second year student, knew was the height of idiocy. While their venom was not particularly lethal, it was far from pleasant, and Perseus had no wish to experience it.

Perseus had used the knockback jinx, striking the bats back. Striking them out of the air was not an easy task by any means, but Perseus was more than up to it.

"I can't believe that, that," Daphne said from beside him, searching for a word. "That absolute pillock!"

Perseus had some more choice words for the man, a pillock was putting it lightly.

"Dumbledore must be completely barmy," Malfoy said, his voice snobbish and snide as usual. "Only he could manage to find a teacher even worse than the last one."

Loathe as he was to do so, Perseus couldn't help but agree. Dumbledore, powerful wizard that he was, had made a horrible mistake employing that fraud.

It confused Perseus more than anything. If he knew Lockhart was a fraud, there was no way Dumbledore didn't know. The only reasonable scenario Perseus could think of is that Dumbledore had literally no one else apply for the position, and Lockhart at the very least would bring good publicity to the school, and the Headmaster himself. If that was the case, it irritated him even more. That the Headmaster would value political clout over his students' education was unforgivable to him. It was something his aunt would do.

"What do you think, Perseus?" Daphne said, looking up at him. "Is there anything you can do about him?"

He met her ice blue eyes, before shrugging with a quiet hum to himself as if he thought about it. He was sure he could do something about the man if he really wanted to. The truth was, however, the man's incompetence really wasn't a hindrance to him. He already knew everything the man was supposed to have been teaching. Going out of his way to see the relatively harmless man removed was unnecessary, as far he was concerned.

Perseus slowed to a stop, the group around him doing so as well. Ahead of them, a crowd of what looked to be their entire year stood outside of the second floor girl's bathroom.

Slowly making his way forward, he was shocked at what he saw.

Stuck to the wall was the infamous Mrs. Norris, Filch's demented cat. Equally as disturbing, were the words written in what was surely blood: Enemies of the Heir Beware .

And stuck in the center of it, was Hermione, and her two bonehead friends. Already Filch was ranting and raving, practically frothing at the mouth as he turned on the trio.

Perseus caught himself as Draco Malfoy brushed by him, forcing his way to the front of the group. "Enemies of the Heir Beware! You'll be next, mudbloods!"

Hermione's face pinkened, and her cinnamon colored eyes darkened. Perseus knew she was perfectly aware of her position as the mudblood.

Perseus had to stop his hands from balling into fists. Draco would pay for his crass, purist remark. He would make sure of it.

Perseus watched on silently as Dumbledore came and confirmed the cat was merely petrified, rather than dead, and found himself impressed with the magic on display. To petrify something, to freeze it in its current state in such a manner, was incredibly difficult.

Quickly enough, they were escorted back to their common rooms. Hermione and friends, Perseus noted, were following after the Headmaster, no doubt for questioning on what had happened.

Other than Dumbledore, who in the castle was capable of petrification on such a scale, he wondered.

He spent the rest of the day pondering that question.


Hermione nearly jumped as Perseus stepped out from behind a bookcase. They had agreed to meet here in the library an hour before curfew, she should've expected he'd already be there.

He walked over to her with more grace than a twelve year old had any right to possess. The way his robe billowed as he walked gave him the appearance of gliding. His strides were smooth and sure, and spoke of a noble upbringing. She had seen much of the same out of the royal family the one time she had attended a ball with her family.

"Hello, Hermione," he said, sitting across from her. She was used to the rasp of his voice now, found it comforting, even.

"Hello, Perseus," she said, observing him. She hasn't been this close to him in more than a month.

His dark hair was growing to be too long, hanging to just below his shoulders now. The longer it grew, the more the tresses changed from coils to waves, the silky texture shining slightly in the light of the torches.

Hermione would never admit it, but she was jealous of her best friend's hair. It was effortlessly tame, falling in smooth waves and curls, unlike her unruly bush of wild tangles. Perhaps there were spells that could help, or a potion, but she wouldn't be caught dead reading that kind of thing. She wasn't that kind of girl. There were more important things than being pretty.

Her eyes continued to rove across his face. He sat in silence across from her, allowing her gaze to traverse him as he always did. She was sure she'd be very uncomfortable in his place, but he never showed a hint of discomfort.

His eyes were as unsettling as always, that strange, unnatural violet color. He swore it wasn't uncommon amongst his family, but Hermione had never seen it anywhere else, and Perseus had confirmed that his aunt did not share the color.

His face was beginning to lose what little baby fat it had the year before, and Hermione couldn't help but think her best friend would soon begin to look out of place amongst their year group. She was sure the rest of the year, including herself, would catch up to him eventually. As it was though, he was amongst the tallest in their year.

He had lost his tan from the summer, his usual ivory tone making a quick return. Overall though, Perseus looked well.

"How are you doing in your classes so far?" she asked, raising a brow.

He shrugged. "Fine. I've been more bored than anything else." Hermione could believe that. She wasn't as far along as Perseus was, and she often found herself bored in class.

"I've stopped attending History of Magic all together," he said, setting a few books on the table.

Hermione gasped. "Perseus, you can't!"

Perseus looked at her in surprise. "Why not? I know more about the subject than Professor Binns, and he doesn't even take roll. As long as I sit my end of the year exams, I should be fine."

Hermione frowned, trying to find fault in his logic. While he wasn't wrong, skipping classes, even one such as History of Magic, was.

"I'd skip Defense Against the Dark Arts as well if I thought I could get away with it," he said absentmindedly, flipping through one of his books.

Hermione jerked in her seat, her cheeks heating up. Skipping Binns class she could begrudgingly understand, but Lockhart ?

"What?" Hermione said heatedly, glaring at Perseus. "How could you possibly skip Professor Lockhart's class?"

Perseus looked at her with a furrowed brow and a frown. "The man lost control of a swarm of Cornish Pixies. That was your class, was it not?"

Hermione blushed, remembering the event. "He didn't lose control," she said. "He released them into the class to gauge our abilities."

Perseus' frown persisted. "Right. And what about his textbooks filled with anecdotal information about himself? Will knowing that Gilderoy Lockhart, the three time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Awards favorite color is lilac save you from a banshee?"

"Well no, but it's nice to know a lot about your professor," Hermione said, ignoring the voice in the back of her head that agreed with Perseus.

"Really?" Perseus said skeptically, his brow raised. "I don't recall Professor McGonagall quizzing us on her favorite color," he said, causing Hermione's cheeks to heat up even further. "What do you suppose it is? Gryffindor Gold?"

Hermione glared at him, but let the topic drop. She didn't want to spend the little amount of precious time she got to spend with him arguing over their professors' different teaching methods.

"What are you reading?" Hermione said. While it was a good way to change the subject, she was genuinely curious. The book he was reading looked very old.

"A book on animagery by my Great-Great-Great Uncle Cepheus Black," he said, purple eyes flicking up from the page to meet hers.

Hermione's eyes widened. Animagery was Post-Newt level magic. "Animagery? That's very complicated magic, Perseus!"

He shot her look that she easily interpreted as, I know. She fought down the blush. She sometimes forgot that Perseus was not like Harry and Ron. She was used to being the best and most knowledgeable practitioner around, and it was easy to forget her quiet best friend was consistently outperforming her in every class but potions, and had been studying magic longer than she had known it existed.

Just like her, the boy ate, slept, and breathed magic. The only difference being, he'd been doing it his entire life.

"Sorry," she said, realizing the condescending tone she had taken with him. He waved his hand, as if swatting her apology out of the air. "Why are you studying Animagery? Surely that's beyond even your limits right now?"

Perseus nodded, humming softly. "Yes, for now."

Hermione stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate, but he said no more.

"But why are you studying it?" she asked again, recapturing his attention. Was this what it was like when people talked to her when she was reading?

"My father was an animagus," he said, turning another page. "It's a trait that runs in the family."

"Your father?"

Perseus had never spoken of his mother and father, and for some reason, she had assumed he was like Harry, and had never known them.

"Yes, my father, Sirius Orion Black," he said, finally looking up from his book. "According to my grandfather's journals, my father became an Animagus at the age of fifteen."

Hermione's jaw dropped. How had she never heard of the man? And better yet, where was he, and why had he left Perseus with that horrid aunt of his?

"Where is your father?" Hermione asked, hoping she wasn't about to strike a nerve.

"Azkaban."

Hermione frowned, racking her brain for the name, before coming up empty. "Where?"

Perseus' expression darkened just the slightest. "Azkaban is the wizarding prison of Magical Britain."

Hermione's heart thudded in her chest, her breath catching in her throat. Perseus' father was in prison? Seeing his cold and dour expression, she wouldn't dare ask why. Still, she couldn't help herself from asking her next question. "And your mother?" she asked, somewhat timidly.

If his expression was dour before, it was now glacial. His voice was even raspier than usual, and Hermione had to lean in to hear him. She wished she hadn't. "My mother is dead."

She sat back in her chair, staring blankly at Perseus, trying to process this information. It was different with Harry. Everyone knew the story of the Potters, of their tragic death. In a horrible way, it seemed disconnected from Harry himself.

This, seeing the way Perseus' expression closed off, the way he squeezed his book just a bit tighter, it was all personal, and right here in front of her. And she had brought this on, with her stupid questions, and her stupid need to know everything.

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't," Perseus said, cutting her off. "Stop apologizing, Hermione. Save them for when you absolutely need them, and never for anything less. Besides, you couldn't have known."

Hermione nodded silently, not exactly sure how to take that particular piece of advice.

Perseus checked his pocket watch, before he began putting his books in his pocket, shrinking them one at a time with a tap of his wand. Hermione was dying to ask how he did it, but she knew now wasn't the time. She had ruined the mood, and she didn't blame Perseus for wanting to get away from her, even if it hurt.

He stood from his chair, and much to her surprise, took her right hand in his own, giving it a tight squeeze. She met his gaze, ignoring the slight shine of tears she saw there.

"I meant what I said, Hermione," he said. Though his eyes shined, his voice was the same as always, quiet and raspy. "I'm not angry at you, and thank you for caring enough about me to ask."

Hermione's voice was stuck in her throat, and she couldn't manage anything more than a watery smile, ignoring the small ache she felt in her chest at his watery gaze.

With one last squeeze, he released her hand, and headed for the door.

She watched him go, as he glided silently down the row. He stopped at the very end, giving her a wave over his shoulder that she returned, before he turned the corner and disappeared from her sight.

Releasing a deep breath, Hermione sat with her head in her hands for a moment.

After finally collecting herself, she began putting her books back in her bag, a small smile on her face. The meeting hadn't gone exactly as planned, but she was glad she got to spend any time at all with him, even if everything wasn't alright.