Good Evening,

I hope your holidays were merry and bright. Please do not get used to the quick turnaround in chapters. I simply had a little more time, and a bit more drive to add a few chapters. Tomorrow I go back in to land a paperwork, and people, my break has gone by in a flash.

Please stay safe, germex is your friend.

Thank you for your kind words and prompts to continue.

~Alex

A Twitch and it was gone

Hermione sat through class and devoured knowledge she did not know and found that magic came to her as naturally as a person drinking water. Her wand helped channel the power she felt all her life, and in private moments she tried to manifest magic without her wand.

She smiled as she sat in an alcove hidden in the library. She had always been able to cloak herself or divert attention, so this was perfect to practice. No one came to the library unless you were in the raven's house and Hermione liked it that way. Harry Potter asked her occasionally where she goes, and could he come with her and she denied him. There was something about the boy. Maybe it was the smell of blood, wine, and raspberry jam, or it was the scent of death that seemed to linger about him. She was leery of the boy. Something niggled in the back of her mind. She could sense he was not truly himself, or not completely… HIM. When she was around Harry Potter her fingers twitched and she constantly looked to her watch. She half expected him to keel over. But he never had.

In her cloaked alcove, she sat with her wand in one hand and closed her eyes focusing on her felt hand. She felt a tingle in her palm that slowly spread to her fingertips and when her hand began to warm, she opened her eyes. A red orb of power crackles softly and she smiled. She hefted the orb and then squeezed. Her fingertips passed into the magic and then stopped almost solid. She closed her hand with more force and absorbed her magic back into her palm and looked at the time. She sighed, packed her belongings, and then walked from her alcove vanishing the cloaking spell she manifested.

She walked to the Great Hall and could smell supper being served and once through the doors she looked about and found the tables, and houses chatting about and eating without a care in the world. She turned to her right and Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom waved to her. They seemed very intent on getting her to sit with them. As she took her first step, a shove to the back of her left shoulder caused her to look over.

"Watch it! Some people are starving," spoke the rude menace as he shoved past her.

"Some people come here for an education, not the food," Hermione snipped back. The boy turned around.

"What would you know? You are nothing but a muggle born. Probably can't even do magic," the redhead argued if you could call it that. Hermione lifted an eyebrow and then turned from the boy and walked toward Potter and Longbottom.

"See! She can't even argue facts," the boy loudly said his self-proclaimed victory. Hermione never turned around, but her wand made it to her hand. A flick and a twist backward, a spell shot to the intended target. She kept walking from the boy's howls as he danced dangerously on roller-skates. When she sat down there was a crash and all attention was on the attention-seeking redhead. Hermione sighed as she took in the aroma of her salad with honey mustard dressing and lemon chicken.

"Wow Hermione that was amazing," gushed Neville as we watched Ron Weasley try to stand up but kept falling flat on his back.

"Yes, well I'm sure you can do that as well Neville," Hermione replied cutting her chicken into small pieces and then putting the chicken over her salad.

"He hasn't shut up about you," Harry said shaking his head.

"We could not…"

"Have done much better…"

Hermione looked up and found two identical boys with smiles on their lips and mischief in their eyes.

"Thank you for the compliment, Fred and George," she said as she took a bite of her dinner, not completely interested in the conversation. He was an idiot, and he needed to be shut up.

"The way you just walked away and shot off your spell, so smooth. Wicked! I don't think I even heard you speak a spell," Harry added as he took a bite of his roast beef and potatoes. Hermione shrugged and continued eating.

There!

She felt it.

Then it was gone.

She looked around looking for something and then narrowed her eyes. At the staff table, Albus Dumbledore strolled into the hall and sat down Next to Professor McGonagall. Her eyes watched the man. He smiled and then his eyes flew over the crowd and then clashed with hers. They held each other's gaze for a moment and then the Professor looked toward another set of students, the twins, and smiled with a twinkle in her eyes.

"25 points from Gryffindor," Severus Snape said to the table. Hermione looked at the man and saw him eyeing her.

"For what? I am assuming you are taking points from this house because of my actions since you keep staring at me, so, dear Professor whatever could I have done?" Hermione spoke but the quiet hall echoed her question.

"For firing a spell at a student, and causing a mess," he said.

"Fair enough," Hermione said not caring about the points.

"Another 25 for insolence." The dark professor ground out. Hermione shook her head.

"I was agreeing with you, Professor. No need to take points when I am being compliant and not argumentative," Hermione said then her eyes shifted back to the right. Movement caught her eye. Dumbledore shifted in his seat and watched the back and forth.

"I know it is a rather different exchange with a student, but you can take the points. You are right. I fired a spell. I guess you are not used to people in other houses agreeing with you. As for the additional 25 points, I don't see where I have been insolent but if you feel you must take them, then take them," Hermione said and then looked to the counter on the wall, "Looks like that didn't hurt the house of red too much. Now if you will excuse me, I believe I have pressing matters and dealing with a professor that wants an argument is not once of them," Hermione stood and picked up her bag and walked to the doors.

"50 points for your bad attitude," came the nasally voice of Professor Snape. Hermione stopped at the door.

"Take them if you must, but someday you will understand that life isn't about points or power," Hermione looked toward Dumbledore who watched as if entertained, "It is simply about life and death, and how one has lived their life. Tell me, Professor, are you satisfied with the way you have lived your life?" Hermione watched as Dumbledore smiled and then raised his hand.

"100 points to Gryffindor for not raising to an argument, and such deep philosophical words on life," Dumbledore heard Snape stand and slam his hands on the table squawking his displeasure.

'Sit down Severus, she is right," Dumbledore watched as Hermione shrugged and then looked to Professor McGonagall. The tilt in the girl's chin and the slight cock of her head was a sign to his Assistant Headmistress. He noticed Minerva said and did nothing. Face plain and devoid of emotion as a frozen pond covered in ice.

Hermione walked from the Great Hall to the whispers of holding her own against Professor snape.

Curious Case

For all she tried, she tried to avoid the curious girl known as Hermione Granger. Yes, she agreed to help her if she could, but that didn't mean she was that curious of a cat to seek her out for her quest. She was merely there as a guide, or so she thought was the parameters of their relationship. She watched the girl and she seemed bored. She excelled in every class, and Minerva followed her once or twice to the library where she devoured books on magic, its origins, and even magical theory.

Once or twice, she may have prowled the library simply doing her duties as Assistant Headmistress to monitor all parts of the castle. Once or twice, she thought she saw the girl go in there, but she could not seem t locate her. What she did locate was a signature of magic, but it was raw, and it flowed about the area in the back of the library but where she could not pinpoint.

Minerva was not visited by Andromeda and could almost think it was a hallucination. Until she saw Hermione Granger. She moved like Andromeda, sounded like Andromeda, and even her words rand deeply as if she was older than the stones. Yes, Hermione Granger was a curious case that Minerva did not want to solve. Truth be told she was afraid of what she might find.

IT was the night lightning flashed and lit her quarters. When she watched Hermione and she recognized so much of her mother in her, she knew their past was more than was ministry records and history could reveal. Minerva found herself many evenings since the start of term looking out the window cradling a tumbler of scotch slowly sipping mulling over her thoughts.

Who was she? How did she come to be working for Death? How is Hermione Andromeda's daughter? She thought that Andy married Ted Tonks and knew that Nymphadora was her daughter. She scoffed. The whole damned lot of that trio had the same mischievous glint in their eyes, but Hermione seemed older, more than Nymphadora. It was strange.

Then the vision she saw that night. As lightning flashed lighting up the room, she could have sworn she saw an image superimposed on Hermione's features. Older, elegant cheekbones, slender features, beautiful.

"She has a way about her, doesn't she?" came a voice from the sofa.

Minerva's hand shot to her wand and looked about her quarters. No one sat there and she narrowed her eyes, then she noticed a small brown mass on the sofa.

"She does but what I am more interested in is how the Sorting Hat made it to my rooms by itself," Minerva confessed as she pocketed her wand and brought her drink over to the chair to sit with the sentient being. Then something sparked a question she never thought to ask.

"Do you have a name?" Minerva asked and the hat chucked, and you could see its smile in the folds of the old hat.

"Yes, I do, and you are the first to ask in centuries," the hat seemed to smile and look at her, "My name is Rhun. I was to see everything in a person that made them… them. I could see their secrets. When Gordic and Rowena created me, they thought it would be cute to call me Rhun, or secret teller/ charmer. With these abilities, I was charmed to collect secrets, secrets on power, beginnings, and then sort the children into their houses based on those secrets and their aptitudes.'

"Where would Hermione have been sorted if she was not who she is?" Minerva asked the hat and watched it shift as if getting comfortable, or simply thinking.

"Therein lies a problem. Due to her… lineage she was a sure bet for Slytherin. You can see it in the way she carries herself, the way she sticks to herself, always planning, and her ruthlessness when dealing with riffraff like out young mister Weasley," Rhun explained.

"Then why is she in my house? I will confess she seems like she doesn't belong there," Minerva asked then took a small sip from her tumbler.

"You are one to talk. I almost sorted you into the Puffs own house if I do recall, but there was something about you, some that spoke more than your loyalty. It was your courage and dedication that spoke more to your secrets. Just like Hermione is ruthless and exacting, she too is very loyal and dedicated. Taking this job, not knowing the full details, was rather courageous," the hat explained.

"That hardly explains her placement. She could have completed this adventure and quest without the subterfuge. I know she isn't just a regular first year, Rhun," Minerva argued.

"Yes," then the hat shuffled thinking, "But it is the house that could bring her a better future," Rhun said cryptically, "Time to go," then the hat shimmered and left without a trace.

"What is it with my visitors leaving like that?" Minerva grumbled as she took a larger sip from her tumbler.

She looked to the liquid still occupying the bottom of her glass. She could think of nothing other than the curious case of Hermione Granger.