The Professor stared at Hermione, blue eyes in serious prospect behind half-moon spectacles. Hermione held his gaze, waiting. She was always slightly impatient. 'Patience is a virtue' was not a saying that Hermione prescribed to. However, she had a hectic day and patience could be substituted with exhaustion. So, she sat, catching her metaphorical breath and waiting. She had never been in the Headmaster's office before. Harry and the Weasley twins had described it as the most magically confusing place on Earth. She now understood their sentiment. The place was aglow with magical contraptions that were softly chiming or buzzing or whizzing. They covered the shelves, nestled beside the many books, though Hermione would call them curious rather than confusing. Above the shelves were portraits reaching all the way up to the rafters. Most were sleeping (or pretending to be sleeping) and some were talking amongst themselves.
"Psst."
Hermione dutifully ignored the current source of her ire.
"Psssst!"
In approximately thirty-second intervals Phineas Nigellus Black, rumored to be the most disliked Headmaster ever, would try to subtly get the young witches' attention.
All of a sudden he exclaimed, "Young lady, I am trying to speak with you!"
Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes upward, "Yes sir?"
The portrait looked the very essence of the Black family, dark features, pale skin, and a pinched look about him.
The man huffed, "The rudeness of this generation Albus I swear-"
"Yes Phineas, you've mentioned it before with every generation. I assure you they are no more rude now than they ever were." The Headmaster said this with a twinkle in his eye and turned to wink at Hermione.
She turned back to old Headmaster Black who sniffed, ignoring Albus, and turned his full attention to Hermione.
"You look very familiar dear, are you perhaps a Sayre?"
Hermione stared at the portrait, "A what?"
"I suppose not." He said, shaking his head.
The witch turned to Dumbledore.
"An old, Irish, pureblood family." He explained and Hermione nodded in understanding.
Dumbledore smiled genially at the witch before elaborating, "One of their members founded Ilvermorny."
"The American school?" Hermione questioned, remembering the name.
"Precisely." He nodded, looking pleased like she had passed a particularly hard question.
"She has the hair." Black chimed in from above.
Hermione reflexively touched her curls and, confused, turned once more to Dumbledore for answers.
"The Sayre, I believe, traditionally had distinctive, curly hair, resembling your own. Similar to how most Malfoys are a fair blonde or how all Parkinson's tend to have the same, distinctive noses."
Black snorted, "Makes them look like pugs."
"Hey!" An insulted voice ran from above, "My wife was a Parkinson!"
A great bit of noise started from the portraits as they all discussed the Parkinson family nose. The volume was reaching a greater level when Dumbledore stood from his chair and walked round to his student.
He leaned in, "Would you like to take a walk? I assure you, they will take a while."
She stood and followed him out of his study where the noise decreased dramatically. They walked down stone stairs, side by side.
"Professor, couldn't you make them be silent?" Hermione asked.
The Headmaster stepped past his guardian gargoyles and out into the Hogwarts corridor. "Why yes, but then when would I go for my walks?"
Hermione nodded and they walked along the school's empty halls. The teen had never seen the castle so vacant. Its students and most of its professors are absent on summer break. It smelt like magic and felt a bit like home, comforting the witch. After all, post an exhausting day, it was always great to be home.
"The Weasleys and your parents were quite distressed." Professor Dumbledore suddenly said, breaking the pleasant silence.
Hermione winced. She felt incredibly guilty about that. They were going to kill her. She had made them so upset, no doubt.
"They are under the impression that you, in an uncharacteristic bout of muggle-born folly, mispronounced the floo name and ended up in Burren, Germany where you were swept into the crowds."
"What?"
"From there, you managed to navigate a foreign country and get help. A Hogwarts alum came to your service and contacted me, smart move." He smiled. "You spent approximately two hours drinking tea in her shop until I will fetch you and Apparate you back to the Burrow."
He stopped by a large window that looked out into the sun setting over the Black Lake.
"Or, this is what Professor Snape should be explaining to them, right now."
"Professor Snape?" Hermione questioned, only panicking slightly as she remembered kicking her least favorite professor.
The Professor replied, "I'm sure he's having a wonderful time meeting your parents."
Hermione's mind ran in circles. She understood this was a cover-up. A paper-thin cover-up, yet one, factoring in her parent's distress at her disappearance and the Headmaster's involvement, would most likely work flawlessly.
The Headmaster turned to face her. Amber eyes met bright blue. Young met old. Student met teacher and Hermione had only one question.
"Why?"
Dumbledore sighed, "Many reasons, my dear, many reasons."
Hermione arched an eyebrow, "Namely?"
He gazed at the witch before him, studying her, before replying, "A favor for a favor, Ms. Granger."
Hermione was struck, What favor could I possibly do for him? A wizard of such renown as Albus Dumbledore.
He turned to face the lake and the setting sun, looking out the scene. "May I speak frankly?" He inquired.
"Of course."
"Not only are you are the top of your class, but you are at the top of many more classes that have passed through these halls. Some are muttering an unofficial title, 'Brightest witch of your age'."
Hermione felt her face blushed involuntarily. It was one thing for her peers to say that (some with disdain and others with envy) it was an entirely different thing for Albus Dumbledore to say it.
"You are a champion of the Light while still keeping your stronger, darker leaning personality traits; ambitious, goal-focused, independent, vicious, and sometimes, I suspect, even cruel."
Hermione found herself rapidly being insulted. True, she was all those things but it was very indecent to point it out. She struggled to keep her volatile emotions hidden, presenting a mask as blank as she could make it. Though, it was quickly becoming impossible as she grew towards an apoplectic rage. The girl confused herself with her own anger, for some undefinable reason she had grown far past just being insulted. Hermione tried to push these feelings down, determined to hear him out.
Albus turned back to face the young woman. The old wizard, unknowingly to Hermione. was setting his aura free. He was letting his magic wander from his body. Not threateningly, not like in battle, when magic was ready to be shaped into a weapon. He just let it settle around him. Those with weaker magic, and even muggles, could sense strong magic. It was, he was sad to admit, like prey sensing predator. His aura unleashed tended to make those around him skittish. Even his dear Minerva, Hermione's own head of house and a veritable lioness, would tense up in those moments. Albus was simply one of the few magicals with enough power for many wizards.
However, magicals like himself; Gellert Grindelwald, Tom Riddle, young Harry Potter, and some who had managed to exist beneath the public eye. Those had different reactions to his aura. They were not scared. They were not prepared to run. Instead, their hackles would rise. They would bare their teeth. Equal meeting equal. Predator vs predator. Albus watched, as he had hoped, as Hermione Granger seemed to grow before him. She stood up straighter. Her eyes finally betrayed her emotions and they burned with undeniable challenge. Her aura swelled to meet his, filling the hall. And a single spark ran through her dark hair. Anyone who happened upon the pair, at that moment, would be in great danger of wetting themselves.
Albus had his answer and he quickly reigned his magic back in. The girl sagged as her magic withdrew, done answering his call. Albus summoned two chairs and sank thankfully into his own.
Hermione silently sat in her own chair, staring at the Headmaster, and wondering, "What the hell was that?"
The Headmaster smiled his first true smile of the day, "Moreover, my dear girl, you are one of the most magically powerful people to walk these halls in many years."
Hermione drew back, "What?" That was not what she was expecting to hear.
"Do you think Lysiśtratav would choose you otherwise?"
Hermione felt the wand, which she had stowed in her robes, warm up. She felt slightly defensive of her new wand. She had just gotten it, she wasn't even sure if it would accept her, but Hermione was always up for a challenge. Dumbledore wasn't going to threaten the most interesting project she'd ever had.
"Don't worry, Ms. Granger, I'm not here to take your wand. I doubt I even could."
He smiled again at her, his eyes doing the trademark twinkle, and she relaxed.
He spoke again, "I currently have an issue that has been troubling me for months now. It could be solved by a Light-sided, intelligent, crafty, and powerful witch like yourself."
"I'm sorry professor but why not choose Harry for this task?" Hermione questioned as she thought of Harry's equal magical prowess.
"Mr. Potter tends to have his own tasks to fulfill each year, doesn't he?"
Hermione nodded, thinking back on her best friend's mishaps and adventures. She leaned forward in her chair, waiting for the Professor to get to the point. He pulled his wand from his pocket and wordlessly summoned little twinkle lights that settled around the room, lightening up the darkening hallway.
He looked back to Hermione, "A new student is coming to Hogwarts. A fourth-year female, such as yourself, and she will need a mentor."
Hermione was tired of being baffled by this strange man so she simply said, "Go on."
The Headmaster continued, "I'm afraid you would have to give up your current mentee. We'll re-assign her, I recall that some Hufflepuffs didn't get a mentee this year. They would be happy to take her."
"Professor," Hermione sighed, "is that it?"
"She will be a very special student, like yourself. She will need guidance, friendship, and, most importantly, protection." He looked very stern as he stared into Hermione.
"I promised her family that if she was allowed to attend, I would protect her. But I can't always be there to protect her. I can't go with her to class or in her dorm or common room or in everyday activities, Hermione, but you can."
Hermione sat very still as she took in his words. He was staring at her so intently, he seemed to be looking into her very soul.
"I promised her parents a personal guardian for their daughter. That guardian is you." He acquiesced, "If you accept."
Hermione replied, "Professor, I- of course, I can change mentees but, I admit that I am confused. Why does she need protection and," she was speaking very fast now, "how could I be able to guard her? And from who? I'm just a fourth year, too."
Dumbledore raised his brow in amusement, "A fourth-year who was trained under Remus Lupin. A fourth-year who had stood up to defend others. A fourth-year who is more magically gifted than most. And, a fourth-year who will be getting extra training if she so accepts this duty."
Hermione's eyes lit with glee hearing the words 'extra training'. This summer had only amplified her desire to be able to protect herself. Extra training sounded sweet to her ears, almost as sweet as 'extra wand'.
Dumbledore chuckled at her clear excitement, "Well, someone has to help you master Lysiśtratav. Not me, of course, but someone equally competent."
"That sounds wonderful, Professor," Hermione exclaimed, thrilled with the prospect.
"So, you accept?" He questioned.
She responded, "Yes, I suppose I do."
"Wonderful!" He said, clapping his hands, "Now, you should read up on Sirens and enjoy the rest of your summer. She will be arriving at Hogwarts a day early, surely you don't mind joining her? A chance to become acquainted!"
Hermione frowned, "Sirens?"
Dumbledore leaned in, amusement coloring his face, "Yes, Sirens. You're going to be guarding one, so it's prudent to know something about them."
Hermione's face fell as she realized she had been tricked into agreeing to something much more involved than previously expected. She realized that serious decisions with manipulative old men were best had after a full night's sleep; her respect for the Headmaster grew as her blind trust in him wavered.
And all she could think was, Wait, Sirens are real?