Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other word would smell as sweet.
Shakespeare
Romeo and Juliet
I wonder if Shakespeare had the entire play scripted in his mind before he set his quill to the parchment. As finely tuned as our small play was, it was left to the two stars to disrupt the final act. Though, the adjustment made is such that the grande finale should be quite worth the admission. I continued with my theatrical thoughts as I made my way to breakfast.
I know it is a Sunday after a Hogsmeade day. Thus I have timed my entrance to the usual time when the majority of students and staff are awake and enjoying their morning meal. I casually open the door to the Hall and glide in to my seat. My entrance is of little note to the tired students and the relaxed staff. Slowly though a few begin to take note. My wardrobe has shifted back into the newer robes and my hair is flowing down my shoulders instead of being restrained in a tight braid or bun. It is none other than Flitwick who makes the startling discovery of what is so fundamentally different about me this morning.
However, his surprise leads him to a flurry of stutters and palpitations. His state is such that he topples over the chair and lands on his back. As I go to help him all attention is now focused on the pair of us. As if she knows it is her cue, Minerva rushes over to assess the situation.
"Professor Flitwick, what is the matter? Have you hurt yourself?" she questions the fluttering little man.
He still can not quite form a coherent response. She motions to Madame Pomfrey. Just before the good nurse begins to take charge of the situation, Minerva spies the culprit of the chaos.
"Why, good heavens child! Where did that come from?" she gasps as a hand covers her heart while the other waves in my general direction.
In a moment that would win awards for my supreme acting ability, I feign unqualified ignorance. "Headmistress, there's nothing new about these robes. You know I purchased them last summer in Diagon Alley." I toss in a wide-eyed glance to ice the cake.
"Not your clothing! That ring!" her words resound through the hall managing to be heard over every conversation of student or faculty. How could she possibly deliver a performance with such fidelity to the script having never read a word of it?
"Oh, well, that is new. From yesterday actually," I say with no further clarification. The silence of the Hall is fantastic. Every eye is on me and the headmistress as the charms professor continues to lie on the ground. "That reminds me, I need to go write to my mother. If Professor Flitwick is quite alright, I do hope you'll excuse me."
I do not wait for Minerva to respond. I flounce my way out of the Hall leaving the Headmistress of Hogwarts standing with a gaping mouth and a hand fluttering as if waving in dismissal. As soon as the door shuts behind me I hear the Hall erupt with conversation, speculation, and the usual chaos that new gossip creates.
I have some essays to grade so I make my way towards my office. I settle into my usual routine knowing it is only a matter of time before someone interrupts me with no intention of asking a question about any of the transfiguration assignments. For an hour or so I corrected second years' essays. I was just about to start the third years' when I was interrupted.
"Professor Granger, might you have time to help us?" comes a timid voice belonging to none other than Miranda. Imagine my lack of surprise.
"Of course, please come in. How may I help you this morning?" I reply.
"Well, we were working on our essays and found this a bit tricky," Nicholas says as he points to a section of his messy parchment.
"I would be happy to help you, Mr. Ravel. However, yet again I am unable to read your essay. Would you be so kind as to translate these blotches into words for me?" I ask. The boy has turned in more illegible essays than Fred, George, and Ron combined ever could have.
As he peers at his parchment with a folded brow, Miranda and Nicholas proceed to poke and whisper to each other. I can only assume the next one's lines have been forgotten and they are trying to put off me shooing them out of my classroom.
"Children, it is obvious that you have some ulterior motive to coming to me today. As Mr. Ravel clearly has no idea what is on his parchment, and you two, Mr. Lewis and Miss Hart, have some other more important business, I suggest you share your thoughts with me."
The cast glances at each other to determine who is the unlucky to speak. Unsurprisingly, Anthony speaks.
"You see, Professor Granger, we couldn't help but notice what went on at breakfast and we just were wondering if …if Professor Flitwick was okay?" he quickly found an excuse.
"I can assure you your charms professor is quite fine and will be able to continue with his instructions tomorrow. Now if that is all?" I dismiss them as I pick up the parchments on my desk again.
"Actually, Professor Granger, might I ask you a question?" Miranda shyly speaks.
"I believe, Miss Hart, that you just did, but you may ask one more before you return to your common room."
"Who gave you that ring? The older students were telling us of some man they have seen you with in Hogsmeade and I was wondering if that was who gave you the ring." She speaks so quickly and runs out of breath before the end of her request.
"Contrary to popular belief, we professors do have lives and we do like to keep them private from the students. I am sure in time that question will be answered and likely by me. However, I will not answer it at this point in time. Now, on with you!"
Apparently years of watching Minerva perfect her stern demeanor pay off as the three students scuttle off with a bit of trepidation. A voice comes from over my shoulder, "They are heading to Minerva's office. I believe there will soon be a scene unfolding there. I always knew Minerva was a matchmaker. I never thought she would work in conjunction with the students. I'm off then."
The painted image of my first headmaster walks through the landscape in the frame behind my desk and makes his way back to his former office where his portrait hangs.
I have so much to do and this fiasco is taking up so much time. I proceed to work on the essays and lesson plans for the week for another hour or so. Finally the image of Dumbledore reappears in my office.
"You will soon be summoned. Minerva's frustration and curiosity are being pushed to their limits. Gives new meaning to curiosity killed the cat…." He gets that twinkle again and seems to remember something that I am sure is none of my business. "Those four, and Dobby of course, are mystified by your ring and what to do with this recent turn of events. By the way, excellent work with that ring, Miss Granger. Nice bit of spell work, to cover something with that much magic inherent within it takes quite a bit of skill." He winks as he says, "I will be off to do my share in this intrigue then." He drifts away to another portrait as he finishes his sentence. I am unable to ask him anything more.
As I shake my head in minor frustration, Minerva enters my office. "Professor Granger, would you accompany to my office? I would like to have a chat with you regarding some house issues."
Students are milling about or hurrying through the halls so we do not speak on the way to her office. She speaks the password and we ascend the staircase. We walk through the alcove into her sitting room adjacent to the office. With a wave she motions me to the seats near the hearth. I surmise this is to be an informal discussion.
"Hermione that was quite the display this morning at breakfast. It seems whenever a meal is interrupted at this school it is either the direct result or cause of some misadventure for you," she takes a sip of tea from the tray that had appeared on the low table in front of us as she gave me an appraising glance. "It is not easy to forget the night that the Golden Trio was formed."
"Honestly, Minerva, will I ever be able to live that down? Between Harry, Ron and you, I am teased about that night far more than I deserve."
"It is not every day that the ever wise and knowledgable Hermione Granger makes a mistake. Those of us who are mere morthals must make full use of those moments of misbehavior," here she hovers over her cup of tea and glances into its small pool of liquid as she ponders her next words. "I wonder the wisdom of your recent actions…"
Minerva, who normally speaks with such authority, trails off at the end of her thought. As she was scrupulously focuses on her tea, I can not gather whether her hesitation is due to doubts, fear of my reaction, or some other undecipherable thought.
"What, Headmistress, are you hinting at?"
"Hermione, dear, I have known you longer and better than most any other student to pass through these halls. You have become more than a student or colleague to me. I care for you like a granddaughter. It would pain me to see you make a mistake that would haunt you for years to come." She sets her teacup down as she makes this speech.
"I can assure you that I know full well what I am about and that this mistake, as you call it, is the best decision I have ever made in my life." I draw my back even straighter and keep my eyes trained on hers. Her eyes never leave my own.
"Dear, you are young; you have had to grow up so quickly and lost so much innocence. There are few who could possibly fathom what you have done, seen, and survived. There are few who can match your intelligence and wit. You are a rare girl, dear, and contrary to the image I present outside these tête-à-têtes, it would pain me to no end to see you misunderstood, mistreated, or in any way unhappy."
"Such warm words would shock most of my classmates, Minerva. I know, and I truly do appreciate all you have done for me over the years," I pause as I take her hand and give it a small squeeze. "I can truly say that the one who gave me this ring knows exactly what I have done, seen, and survived. The person is the only one with whom I can possibly envision living long into the future with, not just surviving that which haunts me from my past. He can match my wit and intelligence. He can make me relax and have fun, something both you and I need help remembering to do. Minerva, he is the only one for me." I finish quietly and fold my hands in my lap.
"If that is the way you feel, then there is nothing I can do but wish you all the blessings and joys that you deserve," she rises to hug me.
"Actually, Minerva, there are a few more things she needs you to do," a low voice comes from behind the Headmistress.
The voice was none other than George Weasley who stands next to quite the crowd of people. George and Fred flanked Ginny and Ron who all sport guilty grins and sparkling eyes.
"Well, I never! How did you? Where did you? What are you doing here children?" she sputters this all out in a jumble. I had never seen the indubitable Minerva McGonagall so unnerved.
"Of course you had never, Minerva, you were far too good a student to explore the hidden passageways of this old castle. In fact, even the Marauders and these young troublemakers missed a few corridors, most importantly the one that leads into your entryway."
"Albus! Whatever are you doing? Allowing them to sneak about the school when they are not even students!" The Headmistress is positively agog at this moment. Four former students and the former Headmaster are all involved in some coordinated mischief.
"At this point Headmistress, I think you need to worry about these students and that meddlesome house elf," comes Harry's voice from the stairway. "Isn't there an old adage about those who live in glass houses should not cast stones?" In front of his stern visage are three Gryffindor first years and a sheepish house elf. Anthony, Nicholas, Miranda, and Dobby all have equal looks of dread on their faces.
"It seems that you soon may need a larger office," Dumbledore comments from his portrait with twinkling blue eyes to match the Weasleys.
There, in a moment, in an office stood ten , a house elf, and a portrait all with schemes. Four of those people, and Dobby, were utterly confused. Four looked like the cat that ate the canary. Two had perfectly neutral faces. The portrait had managed to combine the amused twinkle with a face a professional gambler would find unreadable.
The Headmistress must know she is the one who is supposed to take control of the situation. However, at the present moment she is not quite up to the task. Luckily, the Weasleys are never without something to share with the group.
"I say George, this might be a first," says Fred as he crosses his arms.
"Quite right dear brother. Our esteemed headmistress has a situation in front of her," George concurs, mimicking his brother's stance.
"Yes, yes, and from her expression she may finally be catching on to the show," Fred continues.
"Alas, dear Fred, that is not the case. Now dear Headmistress, take a seat. Yes, I think you may need the comfort of that lovely stuffed antique. And you little ones, why don't you find yourselves some seats there at her feet near the hearth?" George continues the monologue done by two. Dobby goes and stands, or rather cowers, in the shadow of Minerva's chair.
"It seems you three children with the aid of your Headmistress and the ever helpful Dobby contrived to put your dear professors Potter and Granger in a potentially volatile situation."
"Trust us, we know what her temper and hexes can do when provoked," George interrupts.
A brief look passes between the two as an unpleasant memory is relived. Fred continues, "Yes, we are well aware of the little situation that was arranged several months ago."
"Actually, we all are quite aware of this little bit of information," chimes in a more feminine voice.
The four near the hearth turned to see a sight that had quelled some of the darkest and most powerful wizards. The Golden Trio with Ginny stand with stern expressions and the self-assurance that comes from knowing you can handle anything. Of course knowing exactly what is going on when others don't can contribute to that remarkable air.
"Being both a Weasley and Hermione's closest female friend I became embroiled with this little escapade and can safely say that for several months now the greatest prank that Hogwarts have ever witness has been performed," Ginny says with a smirk muck like her twin brothers'.
Here the Headmistress of Hogwarts and the Heirs of Gyrffindors' Greatest Pranksters look utterly befuddled. An expression they are quickly becoming familiar with expressing.
As the two that are the center of the show we decide to take over the conversation.
"You see, we figured out fairly quickly that the little stunt involving the Room of Requirement was completely orchestrated by these three Gryffindors. However, as Hermione was quick to point out, they could not accomplish it alone. A bit more thought and we determined that only the assistance of a loyal house elf and the ever talented former transfiguration professor turned Headmistress could accomplish the details beyond a first year's abilities."
"Harry is quite right. It was obvious Dobby helped with the food and so forth while you, dear Headmistress, took care of those complicated transfiguration spells needed for our robes. After sorting out a few personal things we also felt it was necessary to have a bit of revenge. One good prank deserves another. Thus, we enlisted the help of Hogwarts' greatest pranksters and our two dearest friends," I continue.
"The mysterious man that I have spent the past several weekends seeing was actually one of several young men. Some tricks, though old and well used, still remain extremely effective," I smirk. "Some simple glamour charms and the small fact that Ron, George, and Fred are all within a hairsbreadth of the same height made the ruse quite simple. Those not playing my love interest worked with Harry, Ginny, and Ron to ensure that Harry was seen about town or timed his arrival on the scene perfectly. A few times when it worked out we even were able to have Harry play his own rival. The beauty of those instances was no one noticed the height differences and I was able to enjoy his company."
By this time the Headmistress and the three Gryffindor first years are feeling a bit sheepish, a bit ashamed, and a bit intrigued.
"For the last several months you were witness to a wonderful drama," George finishes.
"We hope you enjoyed it," Fred tacked on his opinion.
"Very well," Minerva is not about to admit defeat or apologize. It is her sanity at stake when the whole fiasco began. "Now tell me one thing, Professor Granger, where did you acquire that charming ring on your left hand?"
Here, all the Weasley boys, Ginny, and the first years turn with great attention to hear my answer.
"As I told you earlier, it is something I acquired yesterday." A simple answer for the Headmistress' simple question, but there are exactly two people of the small crowd gathered who know the full answer.
"Hermione Granger I cannot believe you did not tell me! Am I not your best friend? Did you not trust me with this information?"
As Ginny makes her outburst, Ron joins in with, "Harry Potter when were you going to get around with telling me this?"
"Merlin! She sounds just like Mum!"
"Worse than Mum, Fred, I would say. Though Ronny-kins here is quite good at screeching too," George ventures.
"I don't recall saying that this was from Harry," I calmly respond.
"What!" now Minerva is impersonating Mrs. Weasley.
The twins have mutual slack jaws. All in all, I am quite proud of myself. Harry maintains a blank expression giving nothing away. The children are simply confused. Dobby is trying to follow the conversation and determine whether the great Harry Potter needs consolation or congratulations.
Finally I do something that Minerva had never witnessed in all my years as a student in her transfiguration classes. I giggled. At first it was a sort of soft chuckle under my breath. Then it grows into a chortle which slowly begins to choke me until I let it loose into a full-fledged guffaw.
"Charming, Hermione," Ron mutters.
"Honestly, Ron," I manage between gasps for air.
"Point to me, Harry," Ron says.
"I think I'll win this game though Ron since I have the rest of our lives," Harry returns.
"So it is you!" exclaimed Ginny, "Just wait till I tell Mum. Oh, she is going to go crazy. Another wedding to plan. You are going to let her help are you two? I mean, you are family and she thinks of you both as her own kids. Why she would want more, I don't know."
"Ginerva would you please take a breath," Minerva admonishes the rambling redhead. When Ginny stops to breathe, Minerva continued.
"I see that congratulations are in order and I most heartily offer them. You two deserve the best and a bit of peace."
"Something tells me that as long as we continue to be professors here and with our history I highly doubt we will live quietly and in peace," Harry huffs. "However, we have every intention of having the best and happiest life possible."
Here a moment occurs which makes Anthony, Nicholas, George, Fred and Ron all roll eyes and make the ever mature gagging noise. Simultaneously Ginny and Miranda make cooing noises. Minerva manages to find an understated response in the middle, a simple smile.
Harry and I are too busy enjoying a moment of engaged bliss to notice much. As we kiss, Harry passes his hand over the ring and it returns to the original form of his mother's engagement ring.
"Will I ever have a quiet year in this school?"
"Alas, Minerva, I fear that Hogwarts is not conducive to tranquility," chuckles the indubitable Albus Dumbledore.
