I realised, based on some of your reviews, that the entire second half of the chapter was missing. I've re-uploaded and corrected where someone pointed out that I'd gotten Hermione's age wrong.
Hermione dropped into the chair at the breakfast table, eying Anneken over the box of cereal. The elderly witch looked impeccable, but the fact that she was at Nott Manor before breakfast yet again was highly suspicious. Lord Nott looked a little worse for wear, unlike Sirius who was bouncing in his chair as he stirred cream into his coffee.
'So what does Skeeter think?' Hermione asked, reaching for the copy of the prophet in the middle of the table.
'She thinks that you're a darling, of course.' Sirius drawled. 'How could she not when you've threatened to set Gellert Grindelwald on her.'
'I didn't say it quite like that.' The young witch protested laughingly, shaking out the paper.
'She talked about your clothes, how grand the castle was, how polite you were and how it was such a shame that you left early, even if it is to be expected when you're only thirteen.' Theo summarised more helpfully.
'Almost fourteen.' Hermione grumbled resentfully.
'You left at ten... like a little child.' Jabbed Theo.
'Theodore... be nice.' Anneken chided, looking up from her uncharacteristically heavy breakfast. Hermione suspected that she wasn't as put together as she seemed. 'You know that Hermione was shaken by one of the guests. It wouldn't have been appropriate for her to return with a torn hem and her makeup was a mess - it would have been eleven at least before she could get back and that's getting inappropriate.'
Theo looked surly but conceded, glowering at the young witch. Unlike young witches, who could use the excuse of propriety to escape, wizards had to stay at the ball until all the dances were over. Theo, Harry and Neville had probably had to stay even later as part of the hosting party.
'So, did anything interesting crop up?' Lord Nott asked Sirius. The frostiness between the two was quickly melting, but Hermione knew that it wouldn't be forgotten quickly. Lord Nott still thought that Sirius was irresponsible and juvenile and Sirius thought Lord Nott was fusty and pretentious. In fact, she was pretty sure the young Lord Black thought much the same of her and only held back from saying so because she was one of Harry's best friends. He hated anything traditional on principle, even though what she called traditional seemed to be far removed from what his hated family called tradition.
It was an interesting thought... how many people stood against tradition because of it's associations? A long line of dark wizards, brutal and bloody wars, a deep political divide all in the name of tradition. Could she rebrand it as old magic? Would that bridge the divide?
'There was very little relating to you specifically. Everyone thought that castle was impressive, obviously. Malfoy looked like he'd swallowed a bezoar past it's use by date, Madam Greengrass had been nervous to have the ball as her eldest daughter's first event but she was very impressed with the result and has encouraged Daphne to spend more time with you.'
'Nott, Black, Potter and Longbottom.' Harry counted, oblivious to the surprise on everyone's faces as they turned to look at him. 'You've got Nott, Black, Potter and Longbottom as guaranteed seats. You might get Greengrass and Bones.'
'And Yaxley.' Hermione added. 'Petrovna holds the Yaxley seat and she owes me a life debt.'
'You could get Prewett, I'm sure. Percy is the only Weasley interested in politics, so if he took the Weasley seat, that would leave Ginny free to take Prewett.' Harry suggested.
'No.' Theo countered. 'If it came down to it, in a vote against Dumbledore, Mr Weasley would take the Weasley seat and his wife would take Prewett to make sure we couldn't.'
'Either way...' Lord Nott interrupted, 'we're going to be a big enough faction that both political groups will try to court us. We have the power to swing a vote and that puts us in a powerful position.'
'But we wont be doing any voting just yet. There are more immediate concerns.' Hermione interrupted. 'We need to find Peter Pettigrew and turn him over to the aurors and we need to track down Quirrel. It's my fault that he's free.'
'Quirrel will be long gone.' Sirius warned.
'Lichtenstein, Albania and Greece are all within a few apparition jumps of here and have no extradition treaties.' Lord Nott agreed.
'It's not like Quirrel can do much - the Philosopher's stone has been destroyed now.' Harry pointed out. Hermione sighed.
'It hasn't.' She corrected. 'The stone is actually the crowning gem for Morgana's staff. It's currently in The Barrows, which is not only heavily warded and guarded by a small army of guardians, it's also shielded by it's own anonymity.'
The wixen around the table were silent for a moment, then Harry sighed forlornly.
'So Voldemort could still come back?'
'Only a truly dark wizard knows those kinds of things, Harry.' Theo warned.
'I'll see if Mordred knows anything.' Hermione decided.
They finished up their breakfast in silence, all pondering the fearsome possibilities.
'Was there anything else of interest that you heard, Lord Black?' Anneken asked. Sirius startled at the term of address, looking around the dining room fearfully before realising that the elderly witch had been speaking to him.
'Not specific to Hermione - I dare say very few people would criticise the ward of Grindelwald at her own ball, especially when the walls might have ears. There was lots of political chatter of very little interest, except for a security proposal to have dementors installed at the gates of Hogwarts. They seem to think I'm after Harry, for some reason.' Sirius summarised, pulling his bacon back towards him as the topic of conversation moved on from Voldemort.
Hermione quickly asked him if he wouldn't mind running through Diagon Alley on some errands in an effort to pick up some more news.
'Is Ginevra still here?' Lord Nott asked suddenly, earning the attention of everyone at the table.
'No. She went home just before breakfast.' Hermione answered. The younger witch had spent the night top and tailing in Hermione's bed after copious amounts of hot chocolate and chewy chocolate cookies. She'd gone home as soon as they'd woken up, not actually having permission to stay at Nott Manor.
'Good. She will be going on holiday until the end of term.' The patriarch pointed to a tiny scrap in the corner - squeezed in between an account of Hermione's school career and an architectural piece on Avalon castle was a tiny photo and a heading declaring that the Weasley family had won a prize draw at the ministry.
'Brilliant.' Harry said enthusiastically, squinting down to read the tiny writing. 'They're going to visit Bill in Egypt.'
'I went to Egypt once. The tombs were fascinating - they managed some remarkable spellwork for their time.' Hermione buttered her toast and the article was forgotten in the ensuing conversation on ancient and gruesome curses.
Their Hogwarts letters arrived much later in the day, whilst the four students were playing with Cavella. They'd throw a ball gently down the rolling lawns outside the manor, allowing the little ball of leggy white fluff to careen after it. Then they'd dance and shout and call her name until she came back and obediently dropped the ball back at their feet.
'Letters!' Sirius pointed up at four large dots in the sky. He was lounging on a blanket out of range of both puppy and ball. Hermione had yet to decide whether he felt like he was somehow supervising them, or whether he just really enjoyed their happy games after so long in Azkaban. The four of them stopped playing, earning a disappointed groan from Cavella. Idly, Hermione picked her up and massaged behind her ears.
Their Hogwarts letters were a little thicker this year, including information on the subjects that they had chosen and whether they had been accepted into the class. Obviously, Hermione had been. She'd expected nothing less as the top student and their little study group meant that her friends trailed just behind her, still a healthy margin above the other students. They were all taking Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures but Harry and Neville had chosen to take Divination instead of Arithmancy. Hermione had tried to tell them that it was a waste of time unless they already had the sight, but both boys had been adamant that they weren't capable of Arithmancy and wanted to take advantage of an easy OWL. She hadn't been able to fault that reasoning, although she'd secretly thought that Harry at least would be rather good at Arithmancy if he put his mind to it.
Durmstrang, Hermione informed them all as they wandered up to the manor to get ready for a trip to the Alley, had much better subjects to chose from. They studied Duelling and Ethics as core subjects and didn't bother categorising magic into different types - such as Charms and Transfiguration. Herbology was optional, which made much more sense to Hermione that having at as a core subject. Whilst Neville certainly loved the subject, Hermione doubted she'd ever need to know how to re-pot mandrakes and whilst she certainly cared where Venus was, she definitely didn't care enough to study it for a whole seven years... or even more than one. No, she announced decisively, she much preferred her Rituals and Magical Theory electives and she enviously thought of studying Cursebreaking and Warding in the future.
Diagon Alley was predictably packed as everyone rushed to get their supplies. Hermione's group was almost inconspicuous among the rush of people and other students. They all wore smart robes and Sirius was back in his dog form with the Gorlois crest on his smart coat. He wove between the legs of the crowd with ease, nose nudging at bulging pockets as he sniffed for a rat. Hermione let him go, confident that the big black dog would meet them at Flourish and Blotts in an hour or two.
They had to stop for robes first. Whilst Hermione's had all been designed and organised by Anneken with charms to make them grow with her, the three boys had shot up over the summer and none of their plain school robes fitted anymore. The trip to Twilfit and Tattings turned into a painful experience as the young attendant tried to show off for the exclusive designer and ended up poking more pins into Theo's arms than into the fabric. The Slytherin bore it well, barely a grimace slipping across his face.
Their next stop was the apothecary, which ended up being a nightmare as Cavella tried to eat everything in sight. Twice, Hermione had to stick her fingers into the puppy's mouth to remove a half chewed hunk of greenish slime.
'This is ridiculous.' She finally exclaimed as the puppy leapt from her hands and into a barrel of dragon dung. Thankfully, it was dried, but she was still grateful when a kind mother cast a couple of cleaning charms for her - Hermione could hardly do it herself in such a public place. Then the witch suggested a teething toy for the little dog and Hermione gladly took her advice, leaving the selection of potion ingredients in Theo and Neville's capable hands whilst she escaped to the magical menagerie to purchase something that Cavella was allowed to chew.
'Look who it is!' Malfoy drawled, his mother appearing behind him a moment later. The older witch's fingers tightened around her son's shoulders.
'Miss Grindelwald. We didn't get to see you at your party last night.' The pureblood matriarch said smoothly. The comment was meant to be insulting, Hermione could tell by the tilt of the woman's chin.
'I greeted you at the floo.' Hermione reminded her shortly. 'But there were over a thousand guests, so I'm not surprised that we missed each other for the rest of the evening.'
'I suppose... I heard that you had a bit of an altercation too... perhaps you can understand why we don't invite the rabble to these occasions.' The Malfoy matriarch stuck her nose in the air arrogantly.
'It seems to be a running theme, but what can I expect when my patriarch has wronged so many. I can hardly believe your first events after the fall of Voldemort were completely smooth.'
Narcissa Malfoy went as white as a sheet whilst Draco surged forwards and whipped out his wand. Instantly, the crowd surged around them, stopping and turning to watch the confrontation.
'You take that back!' Malfoy spat, jabbing his wand at her face. Hermione eyed it carelessly, comfortable in the knowledge that even the mild protective spells in her beaded hair would deflect anything the Malfoy heir could throw at her.
'Is that not the truth?' She asked. 'After all, I can hardly imagine everyone believed that he was under the imperius curse.'
'Don't you insult my father again.' Malfoy threatened. Cavella looked up at the stick above her head, blinked twice, then lunged upwards. Her teeth closed around the delicate wand, the unexpected weight tearing it from Malfoy's hand. He yelped in surprise, recoiling backwards as Cavella managed to land with a roll on the hard cobbles. There was a large crunch as the puppy eagerly dug his teeth into the wood of her newest stick. Hermione watched with a combination of horror and delight as the puppy broke it in half, discovered the unicorn hair core and began delightedly extracting it from the ruined wood.
Malfoy's expression of sheer horror was wonderful, and it was even better because Hermione hadn't even had to do anything and the young pureblood was entirely responsible for the incident.
'Point your wand at me again, and I shall do far worse than set my dog on it.' She threatened swiftly. 'Cavella, drop it.'
The puppy whined at the order but obediently left the broken wand and hopped back into Hermione's arms. The young witch swept off, leaving the two Malfoys in silence behind her. The crowd parted.
'Let me buy that little darling a treat.' An elderly witch offered, holding the door open to let her into the magical menagerie. 'I've never like bullies. I thought your ball last night was excellent; it's about time that someone remembered that there are people out there that don't have a vault below the dragons.'
Hermione thanked her and the witch insisted on buying a handful of chewy leathery straps for Cavella to enjoy before heading off without even introducing herself.
Luckily, the Malfoys had moved on by the time Hermione reemerged and she headed over to Flourish and Blotts unhindered. Predictably, her group had scattered upon arrival at the book shop; Theo was in the Arithmancy section looking for supplementary texts, Neville was in the large, gloomy potions section in a desperate bid to find something to help in his worst subject. Harry was in the Quidditch section, arguing politely with an attendant to let Sirius stay in dog form.
'He's very well trained.' Harry insisted. Sirius whuffed quietly in agreement.
'Yes, yes, but it's just the principle of the matter.' The attendant insisted. Hermione slipped away before he could see her own considerably less well trained dog.
Lord Nott was overseeing an almost weeping attendant with a cattle prod as he tried to separate a hoard of savage, biting books which were attempting to tear each other apart. Already, three of the horrible books were bound by conjured ropes on the desk and as she watched the assistant managed to pull another free. Lord Nott waved his wand lazily and another set of ropes appeared, squeezing tighter and tighter until the jaws were forced shut. Hermione had a really bad feeling that those books might be the Monster Book of Monsters, which did not bode well for their Care of Magical Creatures lessons.
She headed instead for the more traditional magizoology section, quickly finding the section on beasts and beings.
The section on werewolves was very small - there were a total of four books. One was a slim legal book which contained the new werewolf legislation, one was a self help style book that suggested different cage materials in a falsely cheerful tone, one was an analysis of werewolf attacks through history and the final one was a vitriol filled book on how werewolves were savage, soulless beasts.
She took all of them, then paused, peering through the gap left behind into the domestic charms section.
'...the whole place reeked of dark magic... must have paid more than the Malfoys to get the ministry to look the other way.' A plump witch, older than Mrs Weasley but not as old as Lady Longbottom. She wore heavy eyeshadow and matching robes that flared into poufs at her shoulders.
'It wasn't even hidden; at least the other dark families try to keep it subtle. Those skeletons everywhere; it was awful.' Her companion was out of Hermione's view, but she had a heavy welsh accent.
'I don't know what I expected really; she'd have to be a dark witch. I mean, she must be a blood ward for Grindelwald to be able to get our of prison to represent her. Dark, dark magic that is.' The made up witch tutted.
'And at such a young age.' The other sighed.
'Friends with Harry Potter too!' The first witch exclaimed. 'In cahoots with Sirius Black. The wizangamot should never have allowed it.'
'The wizangamot has always been full of dark families; it's why none of them went away when You-Know-Who disappeared. I'd bet my cat that they're hoping she turns out to be another Dark Lady.'
Hermione's fingers curled into Cavella's fur so hard that the little puppy let out a sharp yip of protest. The two witches jumped, spinning towards the bookshelf that Hermione had been hiding behind. Hermione ducked, crouching along the aisle and scurrying out of their sight.
She found Lord Nott, adding her selection of books to the already substantial pile that he'd already picked out for her. He'd not only bought the required texts, but had added a couple that she suspected he thought would be helpful.
'These were the ones that were always in high demand in the library when I was at school.' Lord Nott informed her, patting the pile. She smiled thankfully, pressing her seal into the withdrawal form on the cashiers desk and printing her name beneath it in clear script. The clerk bobbed a quick bow, then wrapped all of her purchases with a tap of his wand. Harry did the same, managing to poke his fingers into the wax by mistake and having to start again.
'Take it off your finger.' Neville advised, watching his messy second attempt that managed to only create a half imprint.
On the third attempt, Harry finally managed it and Neville quickly took his place, demonstrating a perfect imprint of his own heir ring on the first attempt. Still as red as the gemstone of his ring, Harry hurried from the store, followed by a snickering Theo and Hermione.
They bought ice creams on the way home, stopping at Quality Quidditch supplies so that the boys could all admire the newest broomstick.
'I had a Helios in 1895.' Hermione commented idly. Lord Nott raised an eyebrow at her.
'Wasn't that the first ever "racing broom"?' He asked. Hermione grinned at him.
'I flew it once.' She confirmed. 'Then someone set fire to it.'
'Why on earth did you have a racing broom?' Neville asked, disbelievingly. 'You hate broomsticks.'
'It was the prize in a potions competition.' Hermione sniffed. Eventually, they tore Harry away from the display, reminding him that he already had a perfectly good broom. He went reluctantly, trailing them back through the floo to Nott Manor.