Dearest Belle,
I wish I wasn't writing this letter to you, but I fear the time is drawing near where my life will abruptly end.
When you left Hogwarts, when you ran from the magical world, I felt it in my whole heart and soul. The castle wept for you, I wept for you. I still weep for you every day, even after all this time. I do not know where you've gone, nor do I know if you'll ever come back to read this final testament. For all I know, you have forgotten me. But my darling, I will never forget you. I loved you to much, and without you, I fear I simply cannot go on any longer.
I wish I had never trusted Salazar as a friend. His words towards you were vile, and the words of a cruel, cowardly man. I do not care that he fancied your love for himself,I do not care that he was once my closest companion. He betrayed me. He betrayed this castle. The snake is to blame for your leaving me, it was his stubbornness which drove the wedge between us. My love, please, I do not care who's blood runs through your veins. Magical or muggle, it does not matter. It never did matter. And, for all the students at this school, it will not deny them their place at our table.
I know you may never come round to read this letter, but someone, someday, will. Maybe in a year, or maybe in one hundred years, maybe never. But when the time is right and destiny declares it, someone will read this letter and know how deeply I yearned for your love. Inside the box I have left my family ring. This ring will give you the power to continue on without me, and will make sure no one ever calls you dirty blooded again. I have also left a vial of my most fond memories of you, from when we first met, to our last night together.
By hand I have written out our story, so one day the entire world will know you were the woman I so desperately wished to marry. That you were the woman I failed. From this day, I vow to never look at another woman. I vow to never sire children that were not with you. And if, perhaps someday, you return from whence you came, this box will open at the touch of you, your children, and your children's children.
You were my everything, dear Belle. And I'm so, so sorry. May I eternally beg on my knees for your forgiveness, even in death.
With love,
Godric.'
•
Hermione's dreams swirled with the words of Godric Gryffindor's last letter. It was filled with pain and longing, so much so that the young witch could practically feel it buzzing through her fingertips. She wasn't sure when she had fallen asleep, or how long she had been asleep for, but her mind groggily came back from darkness at the sounds of hushed voices in her ears.
"I never thought I'd see the day where a Gryffindor shied away from from the idea power."
"Nonsense, Rowena. It has all been very sudden, she hasn't taken it all in yet. Let the girl rest peacefully."
"She should've been in my house. Godric and that hat conspired against me."
Frowning, Hermione furrowed her brows in confusion. Her sleepy mind wasn't making connections quick enough; her thoughts were a jumbled haze. But she remembered being in the Room of Requirement alone when she fell asleep.
"It was only natural for the heir of young Belle to be in Gryffindor house. She was safest there."
"You call six years of dealing with that bugger Tom Riddle safe, Helga?"
"She would have been lonely in Ravenclaw."
"Rubbish."
Rowena and Helga? As in Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff? Startled, Hermione's eyes snapped open. She sat up, groping for her wand but not finding it within the knit quilt which the castle had provided for her. Two figures were sitting in chairs conjured by the Room of Requirement, drinking cups of tea. They didn't look as iridescent as normal ghosts, but they were dressed all wrong to be from 1998. Staring at the pair owlishly, Hermione ran a hand through her errant curls.
"You...you are...what?" Hermione stumbled over her words as the founders jumped at her voice, seemingly forgetting that she was there.
"Oh!" The vision of Helga breathed, her portly face contorting into one of shock, "do you think she can see us, Rowena?"
"Of course she can! She's wearing Godric's ring." The other vision insisted, "and it suits her quite well I think."
Blinking again, Hermione lifted her hand. Indeed, resting on a finger was the beautiful ring of Gryffindor. It was warm and comfortable, and fit her perfectly despite originally being a man's ring.
"I swear I left it in McGonagall's office," She mumbled, running a thumb across the embossed lion as the gemstones glittered in the firelight.
"You did," Rowena mumbled, sipping her tea again, "but the ring recognizes you as Gryffindor's heir. It's enchanted to protect you, dear one, and will appear again on your finger even if lost."
"But I'm...I'm not Gryffindor's heir," Hermione sputtered, "it's a mistake. I can't be. I'm a Muggleborn witch, I'm nobody."
"Balderdash!" Helga cried sharply, "you look just like our dear Belle, I saw it the moment you walked into the castle!"
"Yes indeed," Rowena agreed eloquently, "the resemblance is truly astonishing."
"Ok, ok wait. Stop. This is crazy, I mean...you are the...the founders of Hogwarts! How can you be...here? You're not ghosts, are you?"
"Certainly not," Rowena huffed as though offended by the statement, "I, for one, would never stoop so low as to float around this castle moaning and wallowing about so frivolously," she tutted and set down her teacup, the perfect image of poise and graceful intensity, "we are connected to this Castle; it was our home. And thus, we have remained in it as guardians."
"We watch over the students and the grounds," Helga agreed, "though it gets awfully lonely sometimes when no one can see you."
"So why can I?" Hermione croaked, flicking between the two women still before her. Rowena raised an eyebrow, one that reminded Hermione of McGonagall.
"You're bright, Miss Granger. But have you not been paying attention? That ring on your finger, it's enchanted; connected to this Castle just as we are. It's been centuries since anyone could see us,"
"Feels like only yesterday we were alive though," Helga sighed wistfully, sitting up slightly as though she had only just realized something, "ah, the boys are here."
"Well let them in," Rowena chided, "don't need to keep the vanquisher of that nasty Tom Riddle standing out in the cold!"
Hermione leapt to her feet as the mahogany doors swung open, revealing Harry and Ron.
"Hermione, bloody hell! We've been waiting out there for ages." Ron cried, his long strides carrying him across the room where he scooped her up in his arms without thought, "you're alright?"
"R-Ron, Harry," Hermione croaked, burying her head in Ron's neck as he cradled her, "I'm sorry. I-I lost track of time, I...how long has it been?"
"A few hours," Harry responded, giving Hermione's arm a tender squeeze as she was still enveloped by her boyfriends massive frame, "McGonagall thought it was best to let you cool off before we came to find you."
"I'm so glad you're here,"
"So are we gonna talk about...you know, it? Or?"
Nodding slightly, Ron finally released his hold as Hermione sat back down on the sofa, pulling her knees up so Ron could sit with a hand on her leg, and Harry chose the floor. Helga and Rowena were gone, leaving two empty chairs by the fire.
"Belle was Godric's lover," Hermione started, picking up the letter which had fallen from her lap and passing it to Ron, who then passed it to Harry, "I don't know what happened to her yet, but he was distraught when she left."
"If this Belle person is so important, why don't we see her name everywhere?" Ron mused, "I mean, the founders are all over this school."
"If Belle De'grange was a Muggleborn, maybe she was the reason for the fallout between Gryffindor and Slytherin?" Hermione thought, frowning, "I mean, I doubt Salazar would want anyone to know someone like...well, someone like me was attending the school. You know how he and his descendants are about us."
"But this letter, it says Slytherin was in love with Belle." Harry mumbled, "if he hated Muggleborns so much, why did he fall in love with one?"
"Out of jealousy or spite maybe?" Hermione pondered with a shrug, "maybe he wanted something that belonged to Gryffindor?" Shaking her head, Hermione ran a hand through her curls, the boys not failing to notice the glint on her finger.
"You're wearing it?" Ron asked, mouth agape, "but you left it..."
"It's an enchanted ring," Hermione mumbled, "I don't know much more about it, but I guess it's keyed to come back to me...er, the heir, even if they lose it."
"How'd you figure that?"
"This...I mean, this is going to sound totally bonkers. But the founders are still at Hogwarts."
Receiving two bug eye'd looks from her favorite boys, Hermione exhaled deeply through her nose, "I woke up to Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff having a conversation about me."
"Were they ghosts?" Harry asked.
"No, not really. They were more like projections? Possibly created by the magic of the castle, a bit like how the enchanted portraits move around."
The boys nodded in understanding as Hermione rubbed her cheek tiredly, her eyes still heavy and crusty from an unexpected midday nap, "they told me about the ring, but disappeared when you two arrived. They knew my ancestor, quite well based on their fondness."
"At least its confirmation that she attended Hogwarts," Harry shrugged, leaning down to scoop up the paper diary which lay abandoned by his leg, "this is the story mentioned in the letter?"
"Yes. I fell asleep before I could start reading. But it should clear up the big questions about who Belle De'grange was."
"Guess we should get to it then," Harry smiled, passing the papers over to Hermione, "you're the bookworm, 'Mione."
"But I don't really want to read it." Hermione croaked out, surprising both Harry and Ron with her honesty.
"Our Hermione not wanting to read a book?" Ron blustered, "I think she's gone mental, Harry!"
"It's not that, Ronald Weasley," Hermione snipped, slapping the boy's chest with the back of her hand, "it's just...I still can't believe that I could be the Heir of Gryffindor."
"Not 'could be', Hermione," Ron insisted, "you are the heir. The portrait; the box, the ring? It all points to you."
"Ron's right," Harry agreed with a nod, "whatever's written in this journal may be just what we need to clear this up. Why are you so worried about it anyway? I mean, it's pretty brilliant."
"Of course it's brilliant," Hermione hissed again, tugging at her curls nervously as her fingers crinkled the paper still between her fingers, "but we've only just come out of a war. I don't want this power if it'll go and destroy what little peace we have now. It's bad enough the Ministry is still fumbling about like a bunch of bloody imbeciles."
"This won't change a thing, alright?" Ron assured her, taking Hermione's hand and caressing it delicately, "it's just a letter. As for everything else, we'll just figure it out as we go,"
"That's...actually very mature of you, Ronald," Hermione croaked, receiving a loving kiss to the forehead from the boy as he smiled.
"Always a tone of surprise. Now are we gonna read, or stand here staring at it all night?"
Sighing shakily, Hermione nodded as she shuffled the papers in her fingers.
"It all began on a cold winters morning; Hogwarts was surrounded by great fields of pure white snow..."
