Chapter 2

Hogwarts Castle

Blaise Zabini left the Headmaster's office in a daze. All he could think about was the discussion he'd just had with the Headmaster and the Minister of Magic, along with their distinguished guests…none of whom he'd ever met, save one. The one he knew, the Minister of Magic from Blaise's home country of Italy, clued him in as to whom the others must be; every Minister from the Federation of Wizarding Europe. That meant….only one other person was needed. The one who had necessitated the meeting in the first place. The Lost Heir.

He recalled glancing at Granger as they left the Great Hall to follow the Headmaster to his office. She'd not given any indication that she knew what this was about. Like him, she seemed to think it was something Dumbledore might need them to do. They were both prefects; maybe it was House business. New rules might be needed to keep their fellow students in line now that a royal was known to be present at school. There would need to be precautions set in place, not that Blaise thought any of his fellow classmates would be a threat. But they could very well be a nuisance. He and the other prefects would need to act as a buffer for some of the more overzealous students. Docking points, giving detention….that sort of thing. Funny though….if that was the Headmaster's intention, why wasn't a prefect from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff asked to meet with him in his office? Or for that matter, why ask him and Granger and not the Head Boy and Girl?

Once they joined the dignitaries that were crowding the oval space already filled with the magical oddities Dumbledore liked to collect, Blaise noticed the nervousness of Rufus Scrimgeour. He knew the man; he was a wizard his mother respected, because he was one of the few she couldn't manipulate. Rufus was tough and intimidating and shrewd; the man was as cool as a cucumber in a crisis.

But right now he was sweating. That was when Blaise knew.

Granger didn't, however, and started when every adult in the room bowed before her.

"Your Highness," the Minister uttered to her complete shock, "Allow me to introduce you to my fellow Ministers…."

What followed were a lot of introductions, declarations of loyalty and hand kissing. All done with proper deference and attention to royal etiquette. During all of this, Granger's face was a sight, and if he'd been anyone else, Blaise might have been tempted to laugh. But he'd been brought up by a powerful witch who had made him toe the line, especially in matters of decorum. She said it would serve him well one day, just as it had his father. Contrary to popular opinion, his parents' marriage had been a loving and happy one. His mother was proud of the Zabini line. It crushed her when her husband succumbed to a mysterious illness when Blaise was just a young boy of five. The pain was so great, she vowed never to fall in love again. Instead, she focused all her energies on her son. She took it upon herself to train him as her husband would have done had he lived and taught him the future burdens he would bear. Zabinis had always served the royal court. Officially as ambassadors, but in reality they were more like courtiers. Companions and advisors. Trusted for their discretion and counted on for their objective opinions. Zabinis rarely took sides, his mother explained. Neutrality was their strength, for it made them better able to negotiate. To garner agreements and treaties that would benefit the commonwealth. His mother had drilled into him from the time he'd been a small lad his responsibilities, not that they'd ever thought he would be called to duty.

Yet, here he was.

Somehow Granger kept it together until the ministers left with promises of attending her upcoming Coronation. After they'd flooed back to the ministry to retrieve their international portkeys, Hermione had taken one look at Dumbledore's sympathetic smile and promptly burst into tears.

"Please tell me this is just a bad dream I'm having," she cried.

The professor gently took her into his arms, giving her a fatherly hug. Looking over her head, he asked, "Mr. Zabini, do you know how to produce a patronus?" while patting her back as her shuddering sobs slowly lessened.

"Yes, Headmaster."

"Then please alert Professor McGonagall of my need for her in my office."

Once Blaise had done that, he was excused to go to his dorm, but as he turned to leave, the older wizard added, "her Highness will have more need of a friend than an ambassador in the immediate days ahead. I hope we can count on you to be able to fulfill both roles."

Blaise nodded, but couldn't stop himself from asking, "Of course, Sir…..but wouldn't she rather be with her Gryffindor friends?"

"No doubt she would…however none in her house have been trained in the ways of royal protocol as you have. Forgive the maritime expressions, but if she's to make it through the next few weeks without being shipwrecked and tossed on the rocks, she will need a lighthouse. And you, my boy, are it."

Hermione slowly released the Headmaster and turned around, giving them each a doleful look. "That may be, Professor….and nothing against you, Zabini….but all the same, I'd rather have my friends." She sniffed twice before wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

Dumbledore promptly produced a handkerchief for her to use instead.

"Thank you," she murmured before blowing her nose loudly, the squeaky sound all the more humorous against the current mood in the room.

Blaise grinned, chuckling to himself. Granger sounded more like a trumpeting baby elephant than a lioness. It was cute. The professor must have thought so too, for he heard the old wizard snickering.

Sometimes all you can do is laugh, Blaise thought. It had been such a surreal night.

Hearing the Headmaster's amusement, Granger paused in her clean up before dissolving into silly giggles. Well, if anyone had a right to swing from one extreme to another, it was her and tonight was certainly the night for it. Blaise felt an uncharacteristic pity for the witch. Life as she had known it was over. Her future was all unmapped territory. That had to be terrifying. No wonder she was being emotional.

Before he could stop himself, he blurted, "If you change your mind, I'll come. Remember, I'm only a call away."

Giving her nose one last swipe, she asked, "Do you really mean that?"

He nodded, wondering what he was getting himself into. He was even more surprised when after a moment of studying him, she dug into her robe pocket and pulled out a coin. "I've spelled these with a Protean charm." Noticing his confusion, she added, "I always keep a few extra on hand. Here….take it. We can communicate this way. It's easier. They get hot whenever a message is delivered."

His brows rose. "Do all Gryffindors go around this prepared? Why do you even have these?"

Her smirk would have done his house proud. "Let's just say they come in handy when you have to deal with Slytherins."

This time he didn't hold back his laughter. "Touché." Giving her a far more graceful bow than the ministers had, he took the coin and put it in his pocket. "Thank you, your Highness."

Hearing his address, the moisture in Hermione's eyes threatened to spill out once more, but she mustered up a smile instead and said, "Good night, Zabini."

"Ma'am," he nodded before exiting.

Once he'd taken his leave, he began his slow descent down the stairs to the dungeons. Blaise's mind churned chaotically.

I can't believe it. Granger.

How had they not seen it? His mind instantly answered back. Because we thought she was Muggleborn.

The best of our year…of the entire school, actually. Powerful magic. Massively powerful, in fact. We should have guessed….the clues were there…..right in front of us, but…..

Shaking his head, he desperately wished he could sleep somewhere else tonight. His house mates would be lying in wait, ready to pounce on him once he got back to their common room. They would clamor for information; all except one. That one would watch and wait until he got back to the chambers he shared with him. His best friend. The brother of his heart. Draco Malfoy. Blaise would have to tell him everything. The young Italian closed his eyes. Apprehension filled his gut. He knew Draco would give him no peace until he spilled. Well, it's not like he wouldn't eventually know, anyway.

But why do I have to be the one to tell him?

Hermione looked around at the suite she would now occupy. It looked surprisingly modern and functional compared to the Gryffindor rooms she was used to. And lonely. Far away from the student living areas, her home for the next two weeks was set apart from everyone else living in the castle. A magically sealed door located in the Restricted Section of the library was the only access to her apartment. Strong wards filled the hallway leading to its goblin-made door. There were no windows. Protections aside, it was rather claustrophobic. She wondered why Hogwarts had such a room in the first place and what its original purpose had been.

She turned around to where the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall were standing. "Do I have to live here by myself?"

"The Minister thought it best due to security issues…..but it will only be for a fortnight, Your Highness."

It gave Hermione a shiver to be addressed like that. "But Harry and Ron…..Ginny and Neville…all the others, too…..they will be sick with worry….why can't they be told where I am?"

"I have no doubts your house mates will be concerned, especially the two boys. I'm also certain Harry and Ron will try their best to find you, but I'm afraid this time, they must be stopped." He gave Hermione a look of pity. "I understand, my dear. You may feel isolated for a bit. But you do have resources. Professor Snape has agreed to help you continue your studies. And in your free time, you can always call on Mr. Zabini."

"Headmaster, I don't even know him! And….it's just not the same…."

Professor McGonagall chimed in. "Your Highness, is this not an excellent time to breach the differences? After all, once you are crowned your subjects will not be those only from Gryffindor house, or even the United Kingdom for that matter. If you can't show a desire to unify with other houses from your own school, how do you expect to reach out to those whose connections are with Beauxbatons or Durmstrang?

Hermione hung her head. "Of course, Professor. I'm sorry."

Minerva put her arm around her favorite student. "I know all of this is a shock. I know you are overwhelmed. I can't even imagine what you must be feeling right now. But the Headmaster and I are at your disposal whenever you need us, and…."

Hermione looked into McGonagall's face before her own crumpled once again.

"There, there." Breaking protocol in how one should address a royal, McGonagall ventured, "Hermione…you are strong. Ever since you've been a student of mine, you've proven just how strong you are. Remember, dear; you were born for this."

"McGonagall is right, Your Highness," said Dumbledore. "This is your birthright…..and your destiny. I know you will not fail."

Taking a shuddering breath, she attempted to smile through her tears though she was not quite successful. However, Hermione did manage to straighten her shoulders and say, "Yes Sir. Thank you." Turning to her head of house she added, "Maybe I will avail myself of some Slytherin company."

"That's the spirit," Minerva agreed. "I'll be happy to bring him here."

"I gave him a coin so we could talk to each other. I'll let him know you're on your way."

The older witch nodded. "And just to be safe, I'll exact a wizard's vow from him not to divulge your location."

"Is that really necessary?"

Minerva hesitated to answer. Finally, she said, "I hope not. But Mr. Zabini may feel compelled to compromise your security if undue pressure is put on him by those who have no love for the crown."

"You mean….those whose allegiances have already been given to Voldemort, don't you? People like his roommate."

Minerva frowned, but Dumbledore answered right away. "As we have seen tonight, circumstances can often change, sometimes in unexpected and remarkable ways. So can people. It would be best not to place the sins of the fathers upon the children. But so we can all rest more easily, I will go down to the dungeons and discuss the matter with Mr. Zabini myself. Right now, I have a feeling he might need someone to talk to as well."

"Why? He hasn't lost his friends."

Blaise looked on sadly as his best mate came undone in front of him.

Draco was sitting slumped over on his bed, his head bowed as if the weight of it was far too heavy for his neck. He was in absolute misery. To be honest, his reaction wasn't anything Blaise hadn't expected; still, it was painful to watch. "I'm sorry. But look, maybe if you just…"

He didn't get to finish that statement. Draco gave him a look of incredulity before his expression dissolved into one of utter hopelessness. "All this time…..all the things I said….the things I did…..I have royally mucked up." He huffed a hollow laugh. "Literally, it would seem."

Blaise felt an irrational urge to laugh as well; not because it was funny, but from the craziness of it all. "I know…..but you know I will do all I can to help."

"Help? What could you possibly do to fix this? For years I've been digging my own grave and the thing is…..I knew it. I knew it, Blaise." Draco rolled over on his bed and covered his face with his pillow. "You might as well suffocate me with this," his voice muffled underneath. "You'd be doing me a favor."

Blaise pulled the pillow off him, exposing his haunted eyes and pale face. "Stop; things aren't that hopeless. You know how forgiving Gryffindors are. They love lost causes, especially her. Don't you remember that house elf thing she tried to start?"

"S.P.E.W.," Draco said absently. "But I'm not a downtrodden house elf. I'm sure she can't wait until she can send me packing to Azkaban."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Now you're just being dramatic. You can't be sent to Azkaban for being a prat."

"I was more than that, and you know it."

Blaise shrugged. "Not your fault. Will you let me tell her? I can explain…"

"No…please. I'm through discussing it. And I don't want you talking to her about it, either. Especially not now with all that's happened. She wouldn't believe you, anyhow."

"She might. It's worth a shot, Draco. She has a right to know. The sooner, the better."

Draco sighed, ignoring his friend's comment. "I wish I could go back…. reverse the past few years. To be honest, I'd be tempted to obliviate her memories if I wasn't afraid of what it might do to her. But it doesn't matter. Even if I could erase the past, I don't think it would change things." His lip trembled as he fought against his emotions. "I just wish…"

"What, Mate?"

The lone tear that had been stuck on Draco's eyelash finally fell. "I wish I'd told her when I had the chance."

While Blaise was having a difficult discussion with his roommate, Professor McGonagall was having an equally hard one with two of her students. Potter and Weasley, behaving like nifflers in a Gringott's vault, had already sussed out the secret concerning their friend. How, she didn't know, but they had and were already badgering her about it.

"What do you mean, we can't see her!" exclaimed Harry.

Professor McGongall pursed her lips. "Potter, I'm sorry. Those are the rules."

"Yeah, and who made up that bloody rule?' asked Ron.

"Language, Mr. Weasley. Five points taken from Gryffindor for cheek." Sighing, McGongall, took off her glasses and rubbed her forehead. "Boys…..I know it's not easy for you. But if she can do it…you can, too."

"But why? Why can't we know where she is? Do you think we would hurt her?" Frustration was causing Harry's eyes to glow a brilliant green.

Minerva pursed her lips. "Things are different now, Potter. You should understand that better than most. The truth is now known and there is nothing for you to do but accept it. Hermione Granger, muggleborn witch, no longer exists. Your friend is a crown princess, our future queen, and you can no longer drag her into your exploits as you once did. Do you understand me?" she asked, giving each lad a stern eye. "Now…..we've all had a long day and it's time for us to retire. I'll walk you to your dorms, since it's past curfew." Seeing that arguing with her was pointless, they acquiesced and followed her to their tower.

After she deposited the boys in front of the Fat Lady, Minerva turned around and said, "Let me reiterate …..do not seek her out. If I find either of you trying to sneak around this rule, you'll find yourself suspended. I'm serious, boys. Don't test me on this."

Once inside the common room, Ron said, "Well, that was a spectacular waste of time. Told you how she'd be."

"Come off it Ron. She's helped us before."

"Yeah….but that was when we had 'Mione with us. You know she's always been her favorite."

Harry said nothing but stared into the fireplace as if the embers burning there held all the secrets of the universe.

"What are we going to do? They're guarding her more closely than Nicholas Flamel's stone."

Ron sighed. "Beats me."

Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England

The excellent dinner Lucius Malfoy had eaten was doing nothing to tamp down his current disgust. "You came here to tell me that? There's no way that infuriating little chit is a princess. More likely it's a plot hatched by her and that conniving fool of a headmaster."

He'd hardly been home an hour before he received a message from a ministry mole requesting to come by that evening with important news. And what news it was. Hermione Granger, the most impudent and disgusting mudblood Lucius had ever had the misfortune to meet, was discovered to be, not a disgrace to the wizarding world as previously thought, but the successor to the throne. Not that the discovery of the lost heir was a total shock; he'd earlier been told the reason for his release; but if he'd known then who it might be…..

And I'll be expected to wait on her. Counsel her. Gah….I was better off in Azkaban.

Lucius felt like pulling his hair out and might have been tempted to do so had he not been so abominably vain.

"Now, now, Malfoy. She didn't know herself until tonight. We first received word about a month ago from the Australian Ministry. There had been an altercation involving a muggle couple with the last name of Wilkins who were heard blathering about things they shouldn't know. Their aurors checked it out and found that the couple had been obliviated. Want to guess who they turned out to be?"

Lucius let out a long-suffering sigh. "Just get on with it."

"Hermione Granger's parents. Once the healers restored their memories, they started remembering all sorts of things."

"Like I care," Lucius muttered.

"You should care about this. The woman was reported to have Highly Superior Autobiographical Memory, or H-SAM, as the muggles say."

"Am I supposed to know what that means?"

The informer grinned. "It means she is one of the very few muggles in the world who remember their life while still in the womb. Although in her case, I think it's a result of all the spells placed on her to restore her memory. I guess the healers went a little overboard, eh?"

Lucius rolled his eyes. "And you expect me to believe the words of this woman?"

"You might if you knew what she told them."

"I doubt a muggle could string together enough intelligible words for me to be interested."

"Even one who described to a tee our King and Queen?"

Annoyed by the conversation, Lucius was pretending to examine his nails, but when his guest said that, he looked up sharply.

"Ah…. So you are interested."

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm merely curious how she would know about them."

"Well now, here's where it gets interesting. According to what I've been able to learn, the woman claims the king and queen planted a fertilized egg inside her before she was born."

Lucius snorted. "All that proves is that the woman is insane. Or overly creative, which if you ask me is often the same thing."

"Wait now…..I wasn't finished. The woman went on to say that she saw them do magic on her. She said colors exploded in the womb when they did it. The woman is in her early 40's, so it fits the timeline of the king and queen's disappearance." The undercover agent rolled the cigar he was smoking around his fat, greasy fingers before he took a puff. "I personally find that very interesting, don't you?"

Lucius wrinkled his nose at the objectionable smell. "I don't pay you to smoke that disgusting weed in my home, Jenkins."

The man merely chuckled and took another drag. "Ah, those muggles do have bad habits; it rubs off on you when you spend so much time with them, like I do." He regretfully doused the remaining cigar in a nearby glass of water, then threw the offending object out of the window. "There you go, my Lord. Better?"

"Keep that window open. Ah, yes, that's better," breathed Lucius as the man pushed the windows fully out. "Now. Let's do this right. Start at the beginning and tell me everything you know about this situation."

"Weren't you listening? I just did," the smaller man retorted.

"I said everything, Jenkins. I need names. I need records. I need anything and everything that would give us the upper hand. Because you know He'll ask. And I refuse to come up empty-handed. If I can figure out a way to make this work to the Dark Lord's advantage, I will be rewarded." He glared at the spy before him. "This is my chance…and you will help me…..is that clear?"

"Then it will cost you more…..unless you want the ministry to know the truth of what happened to that Grenshaw woman."

"Why you little…..are you attempting to blackmail me?"

"A man's gotta make a living, Malfoy. Unless of course, he's a wealthy landowner like yourself."

The elder Malfoy fumed. "Very well. One thousand galleons."

"Five. Or the aurors will get an earful."

If he hadn't needed him so much, Lucius would have avada'd the man on the spot. Instead he nodded his head. "Agreed. But if I discover you withheld anything from me, they won't be able to find enough of you to make even a teaspoon of polyjuice."

AN: I think this note is superfluous, but just in case: this story completely ignores canon. Different events will unfold. It is an alternate universe of J.K. Rowling's world I'm building.