"Looks like they've been hard at work here since we left."
The air was unusually warm as Hermione Granger, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley walked up the aqueduct bridge towards Hogwarts Castle. Two weeks before, a letter had arrived at the Burrow from Prof-Headmistress McGonagall, requesting Hermione's presence to discuss something she had discovered. Though what was found wasn't explicitly stated in the note, Hermione immediately began to buzz with curiosity.
Lots of things had changed during the war, but Hermione's longing for knowledge and understanding hadn't. She had wanted to go to Hogwarts straight away, but thought it best to wait till Ron was more recovered from Fred's funeral, and Harry was more recovered in general. It had been a long two week wait, but she had finally convinced the boys to accompany her. It was a brilliant sunny day, and the trio walked without any particular hurry towards their destination.
It was strange knowing the school they cherished had been a pile of rubble and debris just a few weeks before. Thankfully, Mr. Filtch had some magical help restoring the castle, as his broom and dustbin wouldn't have been enough, even with enchantments. As they strode forward, Hermione's arm swung with Ron's, the pair happily hand in hand. Ahead of them, Harry was inspecting damaged areas that had yet to be repaired, and making occasional commentary. Hermione knew Harry hadn't really wanted to return so soon, and she hadn't forced it on him. But he insisted on coming despite his own transgressions about the whole thing, and Hermione accepted with her usual silent gratitude.
The grounds were truly a beautiful sight, but Hermione was just barely keeping herself from breaking into a run. The curiosity was absolutely killing her. Thankfully, they passed through the courtyard without saying much — to many bad memories — and the halls seemed to understand Hermione's need to reach the headmasters office as it appeared barely two minutes later. Used to things moving around on their own at Hogwarts, no one questioned the appearance of the Gargoyle guard as Hermione glanced at her companions and spoke for the three of them.
"Leaping Kneazles."
The creature stepped aside and bowed his head, giving access to the familiar spiral staircase.
"Haven't been up here in a while," Harry murmured, shoving his hands into his pockets as they ascended. Only Harry Potter would look back on constant visits to the Headmasters office with fondness. There were no other words spoken as they reached the wood door, and Hermione knocked lightly.
"Enter!"
Smiling encouragingly at Harry and Ron, Hermione pushed forward without hesitation. McGonagall was sitting behind the giant claw foot desk, specs resting on the tip of her nose as she rifled through some paperwork. On the desk by her hand was a rather ornate red box, one that caught Hermione's eye immediately, "ah, Miss Granger, Potter and Weasley," she greeted in her usual Scottish droll, through a smile flicked to her lips, "lovely of you to finally be on time for something."
Harry and Ron had the decency to appear sheepish as Hermione rolled her eyes, "please, sit. We have much to discuss, and I have a feeling your curiosity is getting the better of you Miss Granger."
"You have no idea," Hermione huffed, accepting the chair which had appeared as Ron and Harry followed suit, though Harry nearly disappeared into his, still not quite out of his 'wallowing-cause-its-all-my-fault' phase, "so, what is it that you found?"
"Do you remember when we discussed the Legend of Gryffindor's Box, Miss Granger?"
"Oh..." furrowing her brows, Hermione nodded slightly, "yes, of course. It was supposedly an artifact made by Godric Gryffindor, used as a sort of surrogate will to determine his true heir even though he never actually had one."
"If I could give you house points I would, Miss Granger," McGonagall admitted, chuckling lightly as she nodded in confirmation, "you are correct. The Box had supposedly been lost for decades, but Albus...the Headmaster, I mean, believed Voldemort wished to use it as one of his soul vessels."
All three students perked up at this as Hermione's frown deepened, Ron looked awkwardly to his hands and Harry's jaw tightened.
"He wasn't successful?" Hermione questioned, though it was more of a statement. After all, Voldemort was long dead, for good this time. They didn't need the idea of another horcrux to bring that into question, "stories say that the box is impervious to all magic. That would include dark spells, wouldn't it? Like the ones to create Horcrux's?"
"Once again, you are correct." McGonagall said, placing a hand on the box beside her and patting it fondly, "this is the Gryffindor Box. I believe Dumbledore was researching it in regards to the Horcrux's, but found something much more interesting instead. That is why you are here today."
"More interesting then an evil man's soul fragment?" Harry questioned glumly, receiving a hard look from the headmistress which was parroted by Hermione. Harry shrugged and leaned on his knees as McGonagall rose from her chair.
"Miss Granger, I wish to show you something."
"Of course."
Following the woman across the room, Ron and Harry hesitantly followed suit as a painting covered in a sheet was brought down from where it had been hanging on the wall.
"Albus was never able to finish his research into this matter, Miss Granger. But I believe he discovered one of your ancestors. A woman who was present at Hogwarts — possibly as a student — while the Founders still taught here."
"Really?" Hermione breathed in wonder. She hadn't ever thought to explore her heritage. But even as a Muggleborn, her magic had to come from somewhere, right? "how...how can you tell she's my ancestor? I mean, my family could have been filled with nothing muggles since the time the founders were alive,"
Not answering with words, McGonagall removed the sheet elegantly as the portrait was revealed.
"Bloody hell." Ron mumbled, eyes going wide in surprise as a blush took to his cheeks. Harry adjusted his glasses and rubbed his face to make sure he wasn't seeing something that wasn't there. And Hermione...she was positively awestruck. The woman in the picture looked just like her. And though it wasn't her — Hermione knew herself better then anyone — the resemblance was impossible to ignore.
Ghosting her fingers across the canvas, the young witch found herself on the floor, reading the placard on the bottom of the frame.
"Belle De'grange. Age 18. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." She mumbled, caressing the bottom corner of the work where it had been signed by hand, "Godric Gryffindor."
"If you cannot tell, this...particular work is rather intimate. Certainly not something you'd see on the walls of a school. Dumbledore no doubt figured that Godric himself had some sort of attraction to this woman..."
"A-attraction?" Ron spluttered awkwardly, his jealousy flaring as Harry planted a firm hand on his shoulder, "it's just a ruddy painting though. Why all the mystery?"
"Well Mr. Weasley, I cannot say for sure, but I think perhaps...Albus thought Hermione would be able to open the Gryffindor Box."
Waving at the artifact again, Hermione's brows furrowed as she shook her head slowly.
"No. That...that's not possible. I'm a Muggleborn. Only the heir of Gryffindor can open the box. He never had any children..."
"Any that we know of, Miss Granger," McGonagall cut her off with a delicate wave of her hand, "I think this entire thing is nonsense as well. But Albus was not a foolish man. His research into your ancestry is sound. Now that he is dead, we can only move forward on conjecture."
Rising from her place on the floor, Hermione glanced wearily at the box. She then turned to Ron.
"Ronald, why don't you go and open it."
"Me? Why?"
"Didn't you brag to Seamus once that your family ancestry was linked to Gryffindor?" Hermione questioned, smirking at the bright red flush which once again found its way onto Ron's cheeks, "what if you could prove it? It's just a box."
"Nothing ever 'just is' these days, Hermione," Ron spat frustratedly, "it could be cursed or something!"
"I can assure you the box is not cursed, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall assured him, "I've touched it myself and nothing terrible has happened."
"Go on, Ron," Harry mumbled, giving the redhead a shove in the direction of the desk, "Hermione won't touch it unless you do it first."
"Alright, alright."
Huffing and stomping his way to the box, Ron gently tapped the lid as though it would bite him.
"It's not the Care of Magical Creatures textbook, Ronald," Hermione breathed, rolling her eyes as the boy scowled. Turning back to the artifact, Ron released a shuttering sigh as he felt the lip of the lid and gave a little tug.
Nothing happened.
"Harry, you go try." Hermione insisted. Unlike Ron, Harry didn't seem keen on arguing with her as he too tried the box lid and tugged. Still nothing.
"It can only be you, dear." McGonagall rolled in her ear, a hand on her shoulder, "I won't force you. But it could be a major historical discovery."
"But...I don't want things to change, Professor."
"Fear of change is for the cowardly," the headmistress insisted lightly, "and you Miss Granger are not one to look away from a challenge. You're a Gryffindor."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Hermione croaked, nodding as she stepped to the box with Ron and Harry on either side, watching her, "ok."
Allowing her fingers to caress the lion emblem, it felt distinctly warm under her touch. Not warm as though it would burn her, but comforting and familiar. Trailing her nails around the box edges, Hermione gently gave a tug. The lid opened without give, making Hermione's heart race.
She was the Heir of Gryffindor.
Before she knew it, the box was open and staring her in the face. Inside was a single black velvet case, a rather large stack of parchment, and a vial which was gleaming a brilliant electric blue.
"No gold? No gems?" Ron said, snapping Hermione out of her stupor, "rotten luck, Hermione."
"Sush, Ron," Harry snapped, jabbing the boy with his elbow as Hermione shuddered a breath and looked to the headmistress. The woman had gone very pale, and was now sitting in the chairs which they had abandoned. Returning her attention to the contents of the box, Hermione reached inside. First to exit was the vial, familiar in its color as the girl gently shook it around to watch the tendrils dance.
"Pensive memories," Harry mused in her ear, the light reflecting off the lenses of his glasses, "who's do you think?"
"Gryffindor, perhaps, or maybe the other founders," Hermione mused, setting down the vial to pick up the parchment stack, "hand written, no doubt by Gryffindor himself. Dearest Belle...this will probably clear up my heritage, if anything."
Placing the parchment with the vial, Hermione shakily lifted the velvet case. It was oozing the same magic as the box; warm, urging her to look closer. Flipping the lid, a beautiful ring was nestled inside the cushions. It was gold, the flat etched to appear like a rearing lion with ruby eyes, and lines of white diamonds around the outside. Along the band was written words in a delicate cursive script.
"Daring, nerve, chivalry...Godric Gryffindor..."
"That's a family ring," Ron spoke up, "Dad has one, so does Malfoy."
"Sirius had one," Harry agreed, "but he melted it by throwing it into the fire at Grimmauld Place."
"These are incredibly powerful in the Wizarding World, Hermione," Ron insisted, "what's a name without proof? This ring; the Gryffindor ring? It might blow Malfoy's head off if he saw you with this."
Hermione frowned at the object in her hand. Did such a small thing really hold that much power? She hadn't done much research on the Ancient Houses, let alone what being an heir actually meant.
"I don't want it," Hermione insisted, setting the ring down quickly as though it had burned her, "we've seen what power does to people. It...it ruins them, tears apart their souls. I don't want this." Picking up the parchment, Hermione felt the papers tenderly, deeply unnerved by it all. Hugging herself, she shook her head rapidly.
"I...I just can't. I need a moment."
Then she ran, not hearing the Gryffindor Box slam shut on its own, not looking back as her heart beat frantically in her chest. She couldn't be the heir of Gryffindor. She was a Muggleborn. Muggle parents.
Mudblood.
