Minerva McGonagall hadn't ever imagined herself as Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. When they were young — at least, younger — Minerva remembered Dumbledore offhandedly mentioning his possible retirement. Her response was a clipped but humored, 'you'll retire when you die, Albus'. And how true that statement ended up being. Back then, it had been a jest. Dumbledore loved Hogwarts, and Minerva couldn't imagine him ever willingly leaving it. But now...it made her chest hurt.
But as dear as Albus Dumbledore was to her, his office space was an entirely different matter. The space was a mess; a maze of books and scrolls, shelves, knick-knacks and cages that — thankfully — held nothing inside. On the floor under a wooden perch, a pile of Phoenix ashes still remained. And atop his desk, old papers regarding the hunt for Voldemort lay dormant. It was so very 'Albus' that McGonagall felt a constriction of her heart again just looking at it all.
Shaking her head frustratedly, McGonagall focused on the mess again. It had been less then a week since the fighting ended, but she was tired of having to conduct private business in the crumbling Great Hall, or in any of the classrooms where anyone could overhear. The time had come to move into the Headmasters office, as much as McGonagall hated to do so. Removing her wand, the witch gave a flourish as things began to move about.
Old papers were rolled up, folded and placed into piles. Books were shelved, and knick-knacks were sent to the Room of Requirement for storage. McGonagall transfigured a feather quill into a duster, and set it to work on the window sills, surfaces and shelves. She struck up a warm fire in the old mantle, and gave the old wingback chairs a makeover before settling them before it. She carefully placed Fawkes' ashes into a jar to be taken down to Slughorn later.
Watching the room as it began to clear up, McGonagall's eyes caught something which was already floating away to be stored. Pausing it, as well as the papers around it mid-air with a hand, the woman approached curiously. The box itself was unassuming at first, made of glossy, red painted wood with ornate golden feet and embellished with golden accents. It was about the size of a large book, but McGonagall found herself running a finger over the lion crest settled upon the lid.
Curious about the thing, the headmistress snatched several papers out of the air and set them on the now cleared desk along side the box. It was Dumbledore's handwriting, but he was clearly thinking very hard about something which intrigued him.
"Box of Gryffindor. Age...unknown. Spells? Unknown. Ancient Hogwarts Artifact - benign. Ask Irma for reference.'
McGonagall glanced to the box again in amazement. Of course she'd heard the stories of the fabled Box of Gryffindor, but never had she seen it herself. The students who were interested in the legend often claimed it was filled with gold or precious gems. Others — Hermione Granger, McGonagall remembered fondly — claimed it held knowledge of the past. No one knew for sure what was contained in the box, as only an heir of Gryffindor could open it. And, as everyone knew, Gryffindor never married nor sired children of his own.
The box was supposedly impervious to spells, and even the most skilled Unspeakable's couldn't crack it open. That left the Box as a mere paperweight, and overtime a story to tell children before bed. Why Dumbledore was interested in the thing at all, McGonagall didn't really know. Shuffling the papers, the woman continued to read leisurely.
'...The Box of Gryffindor was supposedly left in place of a formal final will and testament. Legends say the one who opens the box will inherit all that once belonged to Gryffindor, including entry to the vault still in Gringotts to this day.'
'Four Founders:
Ravenclaw - Diadem (found - used), Hufflepuff - Cup (found - used)
Slytherin - Locket (found - used)
Gryffindor - Sword (lost), Box (found - not used), Box impervious to horcrux?'
Harry had long since filled her in on the hunt for Voldemort's seven Horcrux's. He had turned one item from each founder into a vessel, yet never used something belonging to Gryffindor. This had always bothered her, and had since she had been told the story, but these notes left by Dumbledore showed that Riddle may have indeed tried to used the box as a Horcrux. But, due to its magical properties, wasn't able to do so successfully. There were no more notes regarding Voldemort and the box, meaning it was likely discarded or lost till Dumbledore had somehow come across it again.
Tapping her fingers on the bottom of her lip, McGonagall jerked to alertness as a rather large painting floated across her vision, ready to be moved into the room of requirement. At once, without thinking, the headmistress stopped it. It wasn't possible. Staring at the painting hidden in the recesses of Dumbledore's office, her eyes bulged. The woman in the frame was beautiful, but her visage was unmistakable.
Shuffling through the notes, McGonagall found one, as she expected, on the painting in front of her.
'Located in the Room of Requirement. Painted by Godric Gryffindor - Ancient Artifact. Subject name; Belle De'grange - age 18. Student at Hogwarts (?). Shares ancestral resemblance to Hermione J. Granger. Muggleborn - September 19, 1979. Connection? Ask Irma for reference.'
Sitting back in her chair, McGonagall stared at the painting still levitating in front of the desk. The woman was pale and naked, posing for the portrait on a bed, wrapped in fine red silks with her curls of hair pulled and pinned in a messy bun. But her face was unmistakable; McGonagall had spent almost seven years staring into those same dark, intelligent eyes.
Was Belle De'grange an ancestor of Hermione Granger?
McGonagall had never heard of the name before now. And if she had fallen so far into obscurity that her descendant was considered to be a muggleborn? Certainly it was a unique coincidence — even more unique to have a portrait of her at Hogwarts — but nothing more then some new found ancestry to one of their students. Glancing back down to his notes again, McGonagall skimmed, hoping to find the answers which she sought.
'Ancient Book of Names and Families - Restricted Section - Ministry of Magic.
Belle De'grange, birth date unknown. Parentage: Magnus V. De'grange (muggle) & Felicity. J. Bontare (muggle) French immigrants (?). Owl Madame Maxine for Beauxbâtons records.
Settled in Hogsmeade, date unknown. Magnus (deceased) not long after arriving. No records from Beauxbâtons. Wizarding parentage of M & V unknown. Belle De'grange; Muggleborn.
Belle De'grange - attended Hogwarts under the founders as a (possibly the first) Muggleborn student. Duration unknown, but was present as a young woman (6th - 7th year). ... ... ... show Miss Granger the box and painting...Heir of Gryffindor?'
McGonagall stared at the last sentence longer then necessary. Her worn lips pursed, and her mind thrummed with the possibility. Hermione Granger? Muggleborn? The true Heir of Gryffindor? Glancing at the painting again, it did appear quite intimate.
There were many of Gryffindor's paintings in the castle, as his ability as an artist was well known. McGonagall herself had taken hours to simply study them, and bask in their fine intricacies. But he did very few human portraits, if any at all. Most of his works were landscapes, or the famous image of fruit hanging outside the Hogwarts kitchens. This portrait...this woman, was so inexplicably exquisite, yet she was static, as though she were for personal viewing only.
Suddenly, an affair didn't seem so far fetched. Dumbledore was a smart man, and helplessly romantic. No doubt he had made the connection far quicker then she had just now. Finding her eyes once again drawn to the red box on the tabletop beside her, the headmistress summoned a parchment, quill and ink.
'Dear Miss Granger,
I regret needing to send this message so soon, as it seems as though the fighting as only just ceased, and things are slow to get back to normal after so much tragedy. However, there is something of great importance which I must speak with you about, privately and in person.
I know Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley may wish to accompany you, and I will allow it at your own discretion. But this matter is of a sensitive sort; and may not be something which you want others to be aware. You see, I've discovered something that may be of great interest to you, and I believe the late Headmaster wished to disclose it before his passing.
Please respond to this message as soon as you're able with a date and time you'd like to meet and discuss this matter. Do not feel you need to rush, as this is not a time sensitive nor an emergency situation. I've moved into the Headmasters office, the Password is 'Leaping Kneazle's'.
Hope you are well,
Yours,
Minerva McGonagall'
Rolling up the parchment and sealing it with the Hogwarts crest, the headmistress vanished the note to the owlry for delivery as a deep and tired sigh left her lips. Hopefully this mystery was just the incessant curiosity of an aging man under to much stress. But as McGonagall gently hung Belle De'grange's portrait on the wall to keep it safe, her mind wandered.
What if Hermione Granger truly was the Heir of Gryffindor?
