"You don't understand. When I checked her mind during lunch, I saw that Narcissa hadn't said anything bad to her. She was… polite. I don't know what they're up to, but Hermione doesn't need to be getting involved in anything those blood supremacists are doing. Hell, she's not even enrolled in Hogwarts yet and the Malfoys are causing problems. Why would my evil Aunt care about a muggleborn? And she's not even the worst one! Aunt–"
"Tonks, take a deep breath."
Dumbledore spoke calmly to the pacing auror. She was always a bundle of energy back when she went to school and he was happy to see that hadn't changed with her graduation last December.
"I will protect Hermione. Though it is interesting that all it took was a sighting for Narcissa to meddle. You say it's her magic that drew her in?"
"According to the bloody witch herself. I don't sense anything from her though. She's a kid. Maybe she let some accidental magic loose? Wish it'd bitten Malfoy right in the arse."
Dumbledore chuckled at the young woman's spirit. He fondly remembered the age of being so confrontational. Ready to fight the world at the falling of a broomstick.
"Hermione is safe now. Thank you for retrieving her."
Dumbledore guided the metamorphagus out of his cluttered office with the offering of an acid pop.
"Toodles."
He smiled warmly as Tonks trudged past him, his laugh lines crinkling around his eyes when he heard her stumble and swear as she caught her footing on the winding stairs. Though, as he closed the door, he grew somber. He accioed to him a half roll of parchment that had been badly burned, reading it in the flickering light of a half dozen candles.
The one who was hidden will be possessed by the one who hides
All motion starts when the fourteenth sun rises
Emerging from victory, the hidden must choose sides
But when the hidden fails, the seeker will face demise
This will spell the end for the –
He cursed to himself that the magical restoration hadn't worked for the end of the prophecy. Things were falling together a little too quickly. Narcissa recognizing the girl's magic was unlucky, but he could rest assured knowing the preteen was locked in the castle, safe. If Narcissa found out who she was there could be hell to pay. He called for a house elf to bring him one of those special headache potions Madame Pompfrey had brewed for him, reminding himself he would need to thank her next time he saw her.
Hermione was sitting cross-legged on her bed when a gale-force wind pushed her windows open. She jumped up, her exhausted mind seeing danger where there was only a breeze. After barring the glass in place, she settled down once more, this time under the covers, her brain racing through the events of the day, dumbfounded.
How could I have been at home this morning and now I believe in witchcraft?
She thought to herself, remembering the anger on Tonks's face when the blonde had come to speak to her. She wondered who the lady was and whether or not they would meet again. As she was drifting off, the wind once again pushed her window open, but the girl was now soundly asleep. A book appeared on the window ledge in a haze of black smoke, a chime-like laugh was lost to the roar of the weather.
When Hermione awoke, she was expecting to feel disheveled from the previous day's excitement but actually felt quite content. The storm from the night before appeared to have blown through, as soft sunlight shined down through the warped glass of her window, gathering in a golden pool on a nondescript, black leather book. Puzzled, she approached the object and flipped it open. A loose paper fluttered down to the ground, and when Hermione picked it up she gasped from shock.
Someone had sent her a book with a picture enclosed of a small, curly haired baby. The large eyes smiled up at Hermione, pointing to her own curls and giggling fervently. Despite her short time spent in the wizarding world, Hermione figured that books didn't just appear to people. Also why would someone send a random person a moving picture of a baby? Weren't photographs precious memories? Before she could open the book for a real perusal, a loud pop was heard and a small man with large ears was suddenly in her room. Man was a generous term, though, for he was shorter than Hermione, with skin resembling the texture of a furless, cave-dwelling animal that was putrid grey and wrinkled.
"Miss Grangy comes to breakfast with me please."
The creature reached for Hermione's sleeve, wanting to prod her into action. With a shrill, sharp breath the girl pulled herself out of reach of the horrid little man.
"Who are you?"
Hermione barely remembered to say "who" and not "what," curse her inexperience with magical beings.
"I'm Stoozy, Miss."
Upon seeing her bewildered face he decided to add to his explanation.
"I'm a house elf-ens I am Miss. We do the feedin' and the cleanin'."
Once again, Stoozy went to grab the girl's hand, overcoming her protests. Surprisingly, his little hands were soft and felt clean. She allowed him to lead her outside of her room, chatting quietly as they made their way around the castle. It wasn't until they arrived in a large hall filled with tables laden with the most delicious food she had ever smelled that she realized she had missed dinner the night before. She inhaled strongly as if doing so would allow her to absorb the flavor before she could eat. In doing so, she managed to also smell herself, and took a mental note to find out where a bath or shower was after her meal.
Hermione looked around, and seeing no one else close to her age, posited to extract as much information from Stoozy as she could over the meal. Perhaps recognizing the face of a child about to launch questions at him like spells in a duel, he held up a thin finger and swallowed the chunk of bread he had dipped in gravy.
"Missy, welcome to Hogwarts, school of witchcraft 'n wizardry. You here are a muggleborn. Muggles are the folks without magic youse sees? You'll learn spells and potions and stuff. The school year starts in September, so you have a week abouts to get your stuff. McGonagall will probablies be the one to take you."
Hermione opened her mouth to retort, or maybe ask another question, but Stoozy held up his finger once again.
"I'll take you to 'er, but first you gotta eat uppens Missy."
The house elf watched as the small child shoved the cinnamon oatmeal she had gotten into her mouth with gusto. He smiled, always loving how excited muggleborns were to be a part of the magical world. His favorite season was the start of the school year when he could frighten the young students who had never met a house elf before. He wiped up the last bit of gravy he had and licked his lips and finger. This was going to be a good year.
