Disclaimers: See chapter 1.
~x~
Opening the door of the joke shop, once again Minerva gestured for the two younger witches to enter ahead of her before following them into the building.
As always, there was a crowd of children hanging around, looking at the displays of Puking Pastilles, Nosebleed Nougat and Skiving Snackboxes. No matter how often Argus updated the list of banned products, they somehow still managed to be smuggled into Hogwarts each year.
"Oooh, look at that cat!" Isobel exclaimed, letting go of Hermione's hand and rushing quickly towards the counter.
Minerva and Hermione followed, slipping past hovering parents and awestruck children until they saw Isobel come to a standstill next to the counter. She held her hand out to a large, fluffy ginger cat sprawled on the wood with its eyes closed.
"Crookshanks." Hermione gasped.
As if hearing her, the half-kneazle cat opened one eye and glanced in their direction almost lazily before standing and stretching. Ignoring Isobel's outstretched hand, he bounded off the counter, running bow-legged, between the legs of the witches and wizards. He came to a standstill in front of them and blinked up at Hermione, before yowling loudly and launching himself upwards, so she had no choice but to clumsily catch him.
"Crooks, no!" The loud exclamation came from behind the counter and a tall redhead rushed over. "I'm sorry about him, he's getting on a bit and we think he's senile—" The voice tapered off at the sound of Crookshanks chirruping happily and the sight of him rubbing his face all over the woman whose arms he'd jumped into.
Hermione grinned, one hand scratching behind Crookshanks's ear. "I think he might just be pleased to see me, Georgie."
"Hermione?" George queried. "Merlin's beard, I told Angie all that in the Prophet last night was a load of dragon dung."
"Even Rita Skeeter has to tell a portion of the truth sometimes, Mr Weasley," Minerva stated as she gestured for Isobel to join them.
As soon as she was at their side, Isobel reached up to pet the strange-looking cat in her mum's arms. "He ain't half funny lookin', mam."
"He's gorgeous," Hermione cooed, running her nose along the perpetually grumpy-looking, squashed face of the half-kneazle cat. "He always was."
Isobel giggled when Crookshanks growled playfully, blinking his yellow eyes at her. "Do you like him màthair?"
Minerva saw the large smile on Hermione's face and was delighted. "Aye, I do. He belonged to your mum when she was at school, mo nighean," she told her daughter. "He was always quite an intelligent beast and a wonderful judge of character. There were times we ran around the castle grounds together while I was patrolling in my Animagus form." She smiled at the memory. "Hello, my wee laddie." She murmured. Holding her hand out, his rough tongue rasped against her fingers.
"Màthair?" George peered down at the small girl and looking back at the two witches, grinned smugly. "McG, you sly old cat!"
Minerva was startled. "I beg your pardon, Mr Weasley?"
"Well, it's obvious she's yours and Hermione's." George suddenly looked wary. "She is, isn't she? I—I mean—" He chuckled nervously. "—she kinda looks like your mum in the photos I've seen of her, but she has Hermione's smile and there's no mistaking those curls, even if they aren't bushy."
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. She'd forgotten how perceptive George could be, far more so than any of his siblings, except perhaps Charlie. "You're right. Isobel is mine and Hermione's daughter."
"How old are you, little kitty-cat?" George teased Isobel lightly.
"I'm eleven," Isobel stated proudly.
"Oh, so you'll be going to Hogwarts in September?" George questioned. "What house are you hoping to get into."
"Yeah! I wanna be in Gryffindor, like mam and màthair," Isobel answered.
"Well let's hope you're not a Hatstall like both of them ." George grinned. "It took the sorting hat nearly four minutes to place your mum and if the rumours are true, a lot more than that to place your màthair."
"I'll sit there for however long it takes," Isobel remarked. "I suppose any of the houses would be okay."
"Even Slytherin?" George looked aghast. "Or what about Hufflepuff? Lame!"
"Well, after everything I've heard, I don't really wanna go into Slytherin. And as much as I'd prefer Gryffindor, if that's not possible, then I'd rather be a Ravenclaw." Isobel gazed up at George. "Being a Hufflepuff would be okay too. I think people only say they're lame 'cause they don't get it. I reckon they might still be cunning, like a Slytherin, intelligent like a Ravenclaw or brave like a Gryffindor, but simply think being loyal, honest and caring are far more important. I kinda get that. It's not a bad thing."
Minerva felt like she could burst with pride. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that what Isobel had said was the truth and it was beautiful to hear. Gazing at Hermione she saw the same pride reflected in her eyes. She let herself marvel over the beautiful soul their love had created and found herself growing a little misty-eyed.
Trying to get herself together before she made a fool of herself by crying in the middle of the shop, she spoke. "I was hoping we could show Isobel the Pygmy Puffs and perhaps see if she would like one. Alternate to that, I suppose a trip to Magical Menagerie will have to suffice."
"Oh, I can certainly help with that." George clapped his hands together and gestured to a cage emitting high-pitched squeaks.
"What on Earth are those?" Isobel asked in astonishment, pointing at the fluffy pink and purple round balls. Minerva grinned as Hermione chuckled.
"They are miniature Puffskeins, little kitty-cat," George explained. "My brother Fred was given a special licence to develop them when we first opened up our shop in Diagon Alley." He grew sad for a moment before smiling brightly again. "They're great pets, they'll eat pretty much anything, from leftovers to insects, but what they love to eat the most is your bogeys while you sleep."
"Eeeeww, that's mingin!'" Isobel exclaimed even as she inched closer to the cage and peered at the creatures, enthralled by them despite her initial disgust. "Are they all pink or purple?" She scrunched up her face. "If I wanted, could I get a green or red one?" She asked.
"Why don't you choose one," Hermione urged, stepping close to Minerva, and leaning in. "Her favourite colour is green." Passing Crookshanks to her, she snaked her hand into her robes and grabbed her wand from its holster while smirking up at her. When Isobel pointed to one of the squeaking fluffy balls rolling around on the cage floor, she cast her charm on the small beast. "Colovaria." The Pygmy Puff turned a shade of chartreuse green and began to hum happily.
"Yay!" Isobel squealed. "And it's now my favourite colour. Thanks, mam!" She turned to George. "It's so cute and teeny but why's it humming, Sir?"
"Please, call me George. Pigmy Puffs always hum when they're happy, kitty-cat." George explained. "Interesting, it must enjoy the change in fur colour. He pulled a notepad and quill out of his pants pocket and jotted down a few notes. "Now then, what are you going to call him?" He asked, shoving the pad and quill into his pocket, picking up the green ball of fur and handing it to her.
Isobel cradled it gently. "I don't know. Maybe I should just call him Bludger." Isobel shrugged. "I haven't had to name anything before." She grinned up at Hermione. "You made naming me sound so easy, mam."
"How about Oran?" Minerva suggested. "In Scottish, it means song, but in Irish, it means little green one."
Isobel smiled brightly and the Pygmy Puff continued to hum. "I like that, màthair."
"What do I owe you?" Hermione asked George softly. "And could I organise payment once I've been to Gringotts in a day or two?"
"For you, my sweetling, nothing." George grinned down at her. "It looks like I've missed a few of my honorary niece's birthdays." Hermione's eyes sparkled with tears at the words and seeing them, George pulled her into his arms. "I've missed you, Hermione and I won't ask why you left, but I'm so happy you're back." He pulled away and gazed at Minerva. "You'll take care of them both, right?"
Narrowing her eyes at the young man, she was proud when he didn't quail from her ferocious glare like many would, instead, meeting her eyes and patiently waiting for a response. George Weasley, like his twin Fred, was certainly a Gryffindor and his reckless bravery proved it.
Minerva found herself sighing in exasperation before offering up her agreement. "Fine, you have my word, Mr Weasley."
"Hey, Iz?" You might find this handy in September." George insisted handing her a Skiving Snackbox and grinning cheekily at Minerva when she growled under her breath and put Crookshanks down onto the floor. "I hope you'll come back to see me and Angie sometime. She's taken the kids to The Burrow to see mum, and she'll be annoyed she missed you."
~x~
After leaving Wizard Wheezes, they made their way through the village, with Isobel gazing into the shop windows and asking about the items displayed. She was particularly enamoured by the display of items at Batworthy Junk.
Eventually, they made their way to Gladrags and Isobel was measured up for her plain school robes and a suitable winter cloak. A set of green dress robes were also chosen for her, just in case and when Isobel was taken by the novelty socks which screamed when they became too smelly, Minerva added a few pairs to the growing pile of items.
Hermione expressed her concerns over Minerva paying for things. "Can't this wait until I've been to Gringotts? I've money enough to pay for whatever she needs."
"I am not trying to hurt your pride, lass and I am fully aware of all you have achieved on your own and how you value your independence, however, I would like to pay for Isobel's school things." Minerva insisted.
"I don't want to be indebted to anyone," Hermione admitted self-consciously, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, her hands running through the green fur of the Pygmy Puff she was holding for their daughter and refusing to meet her eyes.
"What's mine is yours and Isobel's," Minerva stated absentmindedly. "You're my mate and to most in this world, that is akin to us being wed." She considered the younger witch's behaviour. "You know you can rely on others, lass. You can rely on me."
"I don't need handouts." Hermione hissed causing the Pygmy Puff in her hands to squeak loudly.
"Then pay me back," Minerva exclaimed, losing all patience with the situation. She let her words come unfiltered. "But what you need to understand is that Isobel's my child, and I will treat her as such. That means assisting with the cost of her school supplies, giving her pocket money to fritter away on whatever she wants, and providing access to the family vaults." Turning away, she stalked towards the counter, muttering about stubborn, foolish pride.
"That'll be 78 galleons, six sickles and two knuts, Headmistress." The shop assistant advised warily, sensing her irritation.
She handed over 79 galleons from her coin purse and took her change. "Thank you." Taking the package, she shrank it down and put it in one of her robe pockets.
Glancing back at Hermione, she saw her gazing dreamily at a set of crimson robes. They were lovely and would suit the brunette admirably, but she realised any offer made to purchase them for her would be met with instant refusal. Sighing, she walked over to the younger witches and tried to temper her previous annoyance. "Are you ready to move on?"
"Are we getting my wand now, màthair?" Isobel asked hopefully.
"Aye, we are." Minerva offered her daughter a wry smile. "And then, if you like, we can stop for a late lunch at the Three Broomsticks before heading back to the Manse."
"Mam? You ready?" Isobel asked.
Hermione jumped slightly. "Yes, my little love." Turning around, she blushed. "I was lost in thought there. Did someone mention lunch?"
"Aye," Minerva stated gruffly. "I just said we could perhaps have a late lunch after we've been to Ollivanders." She gestured for them to leave the shop and upon hitting the high street, Isobel ran ahead to the wandmakers' shop.
"Did you mean what you said before?" Hermione asked quietly.
"Which bit?" Minerva was still annoyed and her response was curt.
"That our bond means we are practically married," Hermione responded.
"Aye, I did." Minerva swallowed her frustration. "I tried to explain it yesterday, no doubt inadequately, but there's a book back at the Manse that should clear up any confusion." She glanced to the side at the young witch. "Despite our disagreement in Gladrags, I hope you'll return to the Manse with me, but if not, Floo access to the Clough should still be available."
Before Hermione could respond, they arrived at the wandmaker's shop and spotted Isobel inside, already waving a wand in the air before setting it back down on the counter carefully when the papers on the counter burst into flames and a glass of water shattered.
"This conversation isn't over, Minerva," Hermione stated. "We'll talk about what happened in Gladrags later,"
Opening the door, they heard Garrick Ollivander before they saw him. "No, no. That's not the one for you, child, but I know there is one here somewhere—aha!" With his white hair standing on end, he seemed every inch the eccentric he was known to be. "Hello Ms Granger, Headmistress, I'll be with you once I've helped this young lady."
Minerva smiled. "That's okay, Garrick, the wee bairn belongs to us so take your time." She walked around the dim and dusty shop, glancing around. "I didn't expect to see you here today."
"I heard a rumour that you'd been spotted in the village with Ms Granger. I was curious and wanted to see for myself if it was true." Ollivander looked at Minerva, his beady eyes squinting at her. "9 1/2 inches, fir, stiff, with a dragon heartstring core. It was made by my father, Gervaise." He looked toward Hermione. "10 3/4 inches, vine, brittle and also with a dragon heartstring core. It was made with my fair hands." He smiled down at Isobel who looked surprised at his words. "I remember every wand I have crafted and sold, child, and the ones my father and grandfather crafted and the witch or wizard they chose."
Next to her, Hermione visibly wilted where she stood. "Mr Ollivander, I was wondering if perhaps you could help me with this." She handed the Pygmy Puff to Minerva and rummaged in her beaded bag before pulling out the pieces of her wand.
"Oh, dear." Ollivander closed his eyes briefly as if the sight of the broken wand caused him pain, before taking the two parts of the wand in his hands and examining them. "My dear, unfortunately, I have only heard of one wand repaired from such a state as this. I'm sure you know that it would require the power of the Elder Wand."
Hermione looked close to tears and her shoulders slumped even further. "Oh."
Ollivander peered at them before turning his focus onto Hermione. "Although I am unable to repair your original wand, I can provide you with a new one, and one for your little girl too," He offered. "I believe I have just the thing for you both. Just give me a moment." He rocked on his heels and with a flick of his wand, a box appeared in his free hand and he blew the excess dust off. "This was one my father made before he passed. 10 1/4 inches, ebony, unyielding, with a dragon heartstring core. It is a wand for the individual with the courage to be themself and one who will hold fast to their beliefs." He handed the box to Hermione and turned back to Isobel. "And for you, little miss, I believe I have the perfect match. He moved quickly to the wall of narrow boxes piled haphazardly and pulled one free. "9 1/4 inches, beech, reasonably supple and also with a dragon heartstring core. This wand is for a young one, who is wise beyond her years. It performs best for the witch or wizard who is tolerant and broad-minded." He handed the box to Isobel and waved his hands. "Well, what are we waiting for? Open the boxes and give them a twirl."
Isobel and Hermione opened the boxes and lifted their respective wands out.
Hermione flicked the wand and a blue and red stream shot from the wand tip. She offered up a small smile. "It feels good." She admitted. "Possibly even better than my original wand."
Isobel gasped at the sudden warmth in her fingers and raising the wand above her head, she waved it and a stream of red and green sparks shot from the end. She laughed joyfully. "Oh wow!" She exclaimed breathlessly.
"Oh, that's marvellous." Ollivander clapped his hands together happily. "It's as I expected." He stared at Hermione expectantly and then chuckled when she didn't follow up with a question. "Ms Granger, the dragon heartstring harvested from the sole whelp of the mated pair that makes up yours and the Headmistress's wand cores is perfect for your firstborn daughter."
"So what you're saying is that the three of us have some kind of familial wand pairing?" Hermione asked, in disbelief.
"Yes. You've perhaps heard of cousin wands, how magical cores can be compatible and are often found in couples? Or perhaps brother wands, where the cores of two wands are derived from the same source?" Ollivander questioned. Hermione nodded emphatically. "Well, this is somewhat similar. The dragon heartstring in the wand you're currently holding belonged to the mate of the Dragon that was harvested and used for Minerva's wand, and the heartstring of their only whelp resides in the wand your daughter now holds. The level of magic, if the wands are used together, could be truly astounding, simply because of the familial bond they share." He stared at her and Hermione. "And like your bond with Minerva and your child, I'm sure it's something that will only strengthen in time."
"I have so many questions," Hermione admitted. "And don't know where to start."
"Are you interested in wandlore, Ms Granger?" Ollivander asked.
"I was taught a little of the history in my sixth year." Hermione gushed enthusiastically. "It's a truly fascinating subject."
"Then here." He passed her a book off the counter, untouched by Isobel's initial attempts at procuring her wand. "If you are truly interested, read this."
"Oh, thank you." Hermione reddened.
"As an aside, I'm considering taking on an apprentice, if I find the right applicant." Ollivander sighed. "I'm not getting any younger, and unfortunately my son has no interest in taking over."
"At this time, I don't quite know what I want to do." Hermione put the book in her bag and placed her new wand into its box. "I have a few options to consider. But thank you."
"Just send me an owl should you want to discuss it further," Ollivander responded sagely. "Or come see me in Diagon Alley."
"Thank you for your assistance today, Garrick." Minerva offered as Isobel followed her mum's movements and put her wand away too.
"May I go to Honeydukes?" Isobel asked excitedly. "I'll be quick."
"Here." Minerva handed over a few galleons. "Why don't I settle up here and I'll meet you both there?"
"Alright." Hermione agreed. "Thanks, Mr Ollivander."
"Yeah, thank you." Isobel chimed up.
"You're both very welcome." Ollivander smiled.
"How much for the two wands?" Minerva asked softly as Isobel took Oran from her and dragged Hermione from the shop and across the street to the sweet shop.
"Thirty-six galleons," Ollivander replied. Minerva counted out the galleons and handed them over and Ollivander leaned in. "Is everything okay with Ms Granger?" He asked carefully. "She seems a little subdued compared with the overly confident young woman I remember. Even after the events at Malfoy Manor, she wasn't quite as withdrawn as she seems today."
"I believe all this may have become rather too much for her, and we squabbled." Minerva sighed. "I'm hopeful things will settle, given time."
"I'm sure," Ollivander stated. Looking down at the broken wand, he frowned. "It's obvious this was snapped using blunt force," He noted. "If you look closely enough, you can see the tread from the sole of a heavy boot."
"Yes," Minerva agreed. "It happened many years ago. Afterwards, she set free a rather impressive array of wandless magic."
"That's not surprising, she was always a formidable witch," Ollivander stated. "I truly wish it was possible to repair her original wand, although I'm sure her new one will prove to be just as effective, if not more so. The loss of one's wand, especially one such as hers, one that chose her before she even touched it, would be hard, especially having seen her through her formative years at Hogwarts and then the majority of the war." He looked at her as if considering what to say next. "I believe Mr Potter had the allegiance of the Elder Wand. Perhaps it's worth speaking to him about it." He handed her the broken pieces of Hermione's original wand. "Keep this safe, just in case. She wouldn't be the first witch to have two wands."
Minerva found herself smirking. "True enough." She closed her eyes, growing serious. "I know she can perform wandless magic, and she's used my wand once or twice since we reconnected, just for simple spells, but I am concerned she fears her magic."
"She might. If she wants to learn more about wandlore and wandcraft, I would be happy to show her even if she decides it's not an occupation she wishes to enter." Ollivander offered once again.
"I will speak to her about it, Garrick," Minerva assured the man.
~x~
Isobel was happy with the various magical sweets she'd purchased for herself, including the usual Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, Sugar Quills and Chocolate Frogs. She'd treated Hermione to some Liquorice Wands and had also bought a rather large tin of Ginger Newts.
Stepping into the Three Broomsticks, the room turned silent as heads turned towards them and it was only Madam Rosmerta's happy exclamation at the sight of them and then her rushing towards them that had people returning to their conversation and drinks. "I'd heard you were in the village, Hermione. How about you sit down with a round of drinks and some of my Shepard's Pie?" Rosmerta asked. Isobel's stomach grumbled and the landlady's twinkling eyes fell on the small girl. "Hello, who might you be?"
Minerva could see Isobel was uncertain of what to say and nudged her a little. "Go on and introduce yourself to Madam Rosmerta, mo nighean."
"I'm Isobel." She stated. "Wilk—Granger, er—McGonagall," Isobel added as if an afterthought. "I'm pleased to meet you, Madam." She held her hand out.
"You are, are ya?" Rosmerta grinned and took her hand, shaking it as Isobel nodded quickly. "Well then, Isobel would you like some of my Shepard's Pie? Your stomach's growling as fiercely as Fluffy"
"Oh yes, please. Shepard's Pie is one of my favourites. Mam makes it often." Isobel smiled up at the older blonde woman and pulled her hand free. "Who's Fluffy?" She asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
Hermione leaned in. "Fluffy was Hagrid's three-headed dog." She grinned when Isobel gaped at her.
"No kiddin'?" Isobel questioned.
"No kidding, my little love." Hermione's smile widened. "How about we go sit down at that table and I'll tell you about my first encounter with Fluffy the three-headed dog?" She waved her hand at a table at the back of the bar near an open fireplace.
Isobel nodded quickly and rushed to grab the table in question, weaving around various patrons, some of them staring blatantly at the little girl with the green pygmy puff sitting on her shoulder.
"She's precious," Rosmerta stated, gazing after the young girl. "You've done a stellar job, Hermione. Her manners are impeccable."
"Thank you," Hermione blushed.
Minerva smiled at her, loving how adorable she looked with the blush rising over her cheeks. "Come on, lass. I think Isobel's impatient to hear your tale, and I must admit, I'm also curious." She took Hermione's hand in hers, entwining their fingers and ignoring Rosmerta's small gasp and pointed look. "Could we have some butterbeer, please, Ros?"
Rosmerta shook herself from her surprise and answered teasingly. "Coming right up, Min." She moved behind the bar and grabbed the drinks as the two witches continued towards their table where their daughter sat waiting, playing with her tiny, green Pygmy Puff.
When Minerva sat down, with Hermione beside her, she was surprised when the brunette hid her face in her shoulder. "They're all staring," Hermione muttered.
Looking around, she noticed everyone surreptitiously watching her small family and locked eyes with Rosmerta who shook her head as she called for three plates of Shepard's Pie before flicking her wand at the three bottles of butterbeer, hitting them with a hover charm that had them floating through the room only to land on the table. "Anyone would think you lot haven't seen a family settle down for lunch before. If you're done with your drinks, get out of my pub." Rosmerta's words caused a rush of orders as everyone focussed on her, in the hope she didn't ask them to leave. She glanced over to Minerva and winked at her before turning away.
Minerva leaned into Hermione and spoke gently enough for her to raise her head. "So why don't you tell us about Fluffy."
"Okay." Hermione chuckled and leaned back into her chair. "It was my first year at Hogwarts, and I was out of bed after curfew because Draco challenged Harry to a duel, and despite my warnings, he just wasn't listening. I'd followed them out of the Gryffindor Tower, but the guardian of the Tower, The Fat Lady, had taken the opportunity to visit one of her friends in another portrait."
"Can mamó switch pictures?" Isobel asked.
"Aye, mo nighean. There's another smaller portrait in my private chambers at the school." Minerva smiled.
"That's good, she'd hardly see you otherwise," Isobel stated. Turning to her mum, she looked at her beseechingly. "So what happened then, mam?"
"Well, I decided to follow them," Hermione responded with a shrug. "It seemed like the most logical solution at the time but then we found Neville, who'd forgotten the password to get into the tower and had fallen asleep curled up on the floor. The four of us eventually made our way up to the third floor and into the trophy room, but Draco wasn't there."
"Oh, it's getting good now," Isobel stated, causing Minerva to chuckle. "Go on, mam."
"Well by being out of bed, the four of us were breaking so many rules, and then we heard the worst thing. The caretaker, Mr Filch was telling his cat, Mrs Norris to find us since he knew we were out of bed. Panicked, we followed Harry through the door furthest away from Mr Filch's voice and into a long gallery full of suits of armour. Neville freaked out and broke into a run, but tripped. Trying to stop himself from falling he grabbed Ron around the waist and the pair of them stumbled into a suit of armour causing a riot of noise when it crashed to the floor."
"I'm sure it was loud enough to wake the whole castle." Minerva's lips twitched.
Hermione grinned cheekily. "Maybe." She turned to Isobel who was enthralled. "Harry shouted at us to run and we all took off as fast as we could without looking back to see if Mr Filch was following. Harry led us through the castle until we came out of a hidden passage near our Charms classroom, miles away from the trophy room. I concluded that Draco had tricked Harry and tipped Filch off, and told him so, not that he ever even acknowledged I was right." She laughed a little and sipped her drink. "We were about to head back to Gryffindor Tower, but things took another turn for the worse."
Isobel sat back and sipped her butterbeer, taking in the taste for the first time and humming happily. "What happened?" She demanded.
"We encountered Peeves, the castle poltergeist. He caught sight of us and squealed loudly before he started teasing us, saying he was going to call for Mr Filch and Harry begged him not to, but then Ron lost his temper and took a swipe at him." Hermione sighed.
"It would have been a mistake for Mr Weasley to approach him in such a way," Minerva advised. "Peeves thrives on causing mischief and chaos and barely listens to me."
"You're not wrong. Well, Peeves started bellowing that students were out of bed in the Charms corridor, so we ran again and reaching the end of the corridor, encountered a locked door. We could hear footsteps rushing towards us and knew it was Mr Filch, so I pushed the boys out of the way, grabbed Harry's wand and cast an Alohomora charm." She glanced at Isobel. "That's the unlocking charm."
"What's the spell to lock something?" Isobel asked.
Hermione smiled at Isobel's inquisitiveness. "Colloportus." She replied easily. "But Alohomora will only work if someone hasn't used the Anti-Alohomora Charm, which you'll learn in your seventh year. Anyway, after I used the unlocking charm the door swung open and we rushed through it, shut it behind us and waited. We heard Peeves taunting Mr Filch, not giving him the answers to where we were and Harry turned to whisper that he would assume the door was still locked. He was finally distracted by Neville tugging at the sleeve of his dressing-gown."
"And there was Fluffy." Isobel dead-panned.
"Yes, when we turned around, we realised we were in a corridor the Headmaster had told us was forbidden, and we finally understood why. Fluffy filled the whole space with his three heads. Each of them had a pair of angry eyes, twitching noses and large, sharp yellow teeth. We'd taken him by surprise but he shook that off quickly and started growling at us."
"Oh boy, I'd have peed my pants," Isobel stated.
Minerva chuckled and Hermione laughed loudly. "That would be an understandable reaction to that particular beast, mo nighean."
"We ran back out of the room before Fluffy could react and scrambled back to the seventh floor, only stopping once we reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. Shouting the password at her, we dove into the common room and tried to get ourselves together. What the boys hadn't spotted, but I had, was that Fluffy was guarding a trapdoor and protecting something for Headmaster Dumbledore." Hermione bit her lip, waiting for the question that was sure to come from their inquisitive daughter.
"What was it protecting?" Isobel asked.
"We eventually found out that Fluffy was protecting the Philosopher's Stone which was used to create the Elixir of Life and make the drinker immortal, as well as being able to transform any metal into pure gold," Hermione explained. "Over the years, alchemists have attempted to recreate the stone but only one was known to have been successful and it was ultimately destroyed to make sure it never fell into the wrong hands." She told Isobel as plates piled high with Shepard's Pie appeared in front of them.
"But who was Fluffy protecting the stone from," Isobel asked. "From what I've read, not just anyone could walk into Hogwarts and steal something so valuable.
"That's true," Minerva stated. "But Voldemort wasn't just anyone." The scent of Shepard's Pie was mouth-watering and picking up her knife and fork, she started to eat. "You realise, if Fluffy hadn't been so surprised by your appearance, you could have been killed. Or if you'd been caught that night, you could have been expelled."
"I said something along those lines to Harry and Ron that night," Hermione muttered, slicing the edge of her fork into the square of Shephard's Pie in front of her. She suddenly looked up and grinned. "Hey, maybe that's why Harry uses Expelliarmus instead of other hexes."
Minerva swallowed her mouthful and frowned. "I don't understand what you mean, lass?"
"Well, I told him expelling was worse than death." Hermione laughed. "He knew even then not to question my judgement."
~x~