HARRY POTTER
AND THE DEATH EATER MENACE
Harry Potter and all associated characters and situations are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.
Chapter 2: HERMIONE GRANGER AND THE REVENGE OF THE BLACK HAND
28 June 1993
Amerigo Vespucci Airport
Florence, Italy
As the jet touched down smoothly, Hermione Granger smiled as she contemplated the wonders of Muggledom that most of her classmates could not imagine. Two and a half hours from London to Florence via Muggle conveyance! The only thing wizards had that would have been both faster and safer was an International Portkey which, according to Blaise, made most travelers violently ill in the aftermath. After two years at Hogwarts, the young witch was still continually amazed at the potential of magic, but she was still a Muggleborn at heart, and her magical knowledge only heightened her appreciation of what Muggles could achieve without such benefits. She'd mentioned to Lavender Brown that she and her parents be spending a few weeks this summer in Florence, and the other girl had actually asked how long it would take to travel by steamboat. Lavender (who was highly intelligent herself and well-versed on magical matters) had been aware of the existence of "planes" but seemed to think that Muggles were still limited to World War I era biplanes, and she was almost disbelieving when Hermione explained the entire concept of modern jets and the fact that every major city had an airport through which thousands of Muggles passed every day to travel the world.
Beside her, Dan and Emma Granger chatted amiably with each other, but there was a slight undercurrent of tension between them. The two dentists lived quite comfortably and were experienced travelers, and they had even been to Tuscany twice before, though this was the first time with their daughter in tow. However, this was the first time either of them would be staying in a magical home, and while Blaise reassured Hermione that the Countess Zabini's villa just outside Florence was "Muggle-friendly," she knew that this would be her parents' first real exposure to the lifestyle their only child had chosen to embrace. Indeed, the Grangers had already gotten an unpleasant exposure to the magical world after Hermione had spent two days the previous week in bed rather violently ill – the expected but still disagreeable side effect of drinking the Italian Language Potion. The girl was now completely fluent in Italian (with the mildly annoying exception of Italian words which did not come into usage until after 1932, the last time the potion had been updated), but her reaction to the Educational Potion was still rather alarming to the two medically-trained Muggles.
After disembarking, the Grangers made their way through customs and on to the baggage area where they quickly spotted the hulking form of Gunther Hagrid, the Countess's manservant and chauffeur, who was holding a cardboard sign that said "GRANGERS." Hermione had been somewhat surprised to learn from Blaise that Gunther was a cousin to Rubeus Hagrid, the Hogwarts groundskeeper. Other than their unusual size and bulk, the two looked nothing alike. Though huge and imposing, Gunther was not nearly as big as his cousin, and where Hagrid was notable for his shaggy black mane of hair and his incredibly thick beard, Gunther had close-cropped red hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. Gunther never attended Hogwarts and apparently had no magic of his own, but his eyes gleamed with an intelligence and cunning that spoke of years spent learning from the School of Hard Knocks, especially when compared to the dreaminess Hermione found in the eyes of the gentle and somewhat naive half-giant.
Standing next to Gunther was her friend Blaise who smiled and waved as soon as he saw her. The boy was in casual yet stylish Muggle attire: a blue silk shirt and khaki trousers. As the Grangers drew near, he held out his arms in a welcoming gesture.
"Buongiorno! Welcome to Florence!" He then proffered his hand to Dan Granger who shook it firmly. When Emma offered hers, he took it and gave her a hand-kiss. Finally, he gave Hermione a warm hug. "If you'll come this way, we'll get your baggage and head for the car. We need to make a quick stop to register Hermione's wand with the Italian Ministry since she's underage, and then we'll head to the villa."
The ride to the Ministry offices was uneventful save for the surprise the Grangers registered when the Countess's vintage Bentley turned out to be bigger on the inside than the outside. On the way there, Blaise politely answered the Grangers' questions about magical and Muggle Florence. Though the Countess enjoyed what Muggles would describe as a jet-setting lifestyle, her villa in Tuscany was among her favorite homes and she spent a good portion of each year there. Indeed, since Blaise had started his magical education, he had spent the majority of his summers in Florence on account of Magical Italy's comparatively lax views on underage magic. Unlike Britain's blanket ban on all magic performed by minors, Italy simply placed a Charm on all wands held by minors which would prevent them from functioning at all if directly observed by any Muggles. The Italian Trace would also record all spells performed while the minor was in public. There was no danger of a Muggle directly witnessing underage magic, and any underage spells cast otherwise would be logged and evaluated to see if the spell either threatened the Statute of Secrecy or otherwise had been cast with malicious, reckless, or criminal intent.
"That actually seems a much more sensible way of doing things than what the British Ministry does," said Dan Granger. "Why don't the British do it that way?"
Blaise shrugged. "So long as the Statute of Secrecy is honored, the ICW grants each member nation the right to monitor and control underage magic however its government wishes. My cynical theory is that the British approach – a blanket ban that can be overcome for minors whose parents can pay exorbitant fees for summer lessons – is just a way for the Ministry to bilk rich Purebloods who want their children to remain advantaged over Halfbloods and Muggleborns."
"That's very cynical indeed," said Emma. The boy smiled.
"I am Italian, Signora Granger. We're all cynical when it comes to government action."
The procedure for registering Hermione's wand was swift, surprisingly so. The bureaucrat in charge of the process was haughty and dismissive of the "English tourist streghe" for all of eight seconds before Blaise introduced himself as the son of "la Contessa Zabini" at which point he nearly tripped and fell down to the floor in his haste to expedite the process.
The group arrived at the Villa Zabini just in time for lunch. The Countess herself (fashionable as ever in a floral sun dress) met the group on the front steps with a florid welcome offered in English with a heavy Italian accent. She then kissed all three Grangers on the cheek and congratulated Emma Granger on marrying "such a handsome and virile-looking man" as Dan, a comment which caused Dan to blush, Blaise and Hermione to wince, and Emma to respond with the least convincing smile Hermione had ever seen on her face.
Over a luncheon out on the poolside terrace, the Countess laid out her proposed itinerary for the Grangers over the next three weeks, one involving trips to museums, vineyards, spas, and other attractions for the adults while Hermione spent her time with Blaise and his magical tutors while also exploring Magical Italy with Blaise, Gunther, and the Countess herself. Left unsaid was that Hermione would also be spending time with Blaise's Occlumency tutor for a crash course in a borderline illegal discipline that carried a significant risk to her mental health. There were some things, after all, that one's Muggle parents simply didn't need to now. Regardless, the Grangers accepted the Countess's proposed itinerary, but they did want to spend some time with their daughter, and the Countess reassured them that there would be plenty of time for "family excursions."
The Countess also explained that Mr. and Mrs. Granger would be staying in the villa's east wing, while Hermione would be staying in the west wing where Blaise and the Countess's own rooms were located. The villa had been extensively modernized after the Countess had purchased it, but there remained problems with integrating magic and technology. Consequently, the east wing had Muggle amenities such as electric lights and cable television while the west wing lacked such accouterments but replaced them with things like magical lighting and heating and, of course, house elves to attend to the needs of magical guests. The Countess glossed over the topic of "house elves" smoothly in a way that left the Grangers the impression that they were paid servants, and Hermione said nothing to disabuse them of that notion.
After lunch, Blaise showed Hermione to her suite in the west wing. Once inside, the witch finally felt free to talk.
"Right," she began, "what are we going to do about poor Theo?"
"Ah, you've heard. From Harry, I suppose?"
"Of course," she replied while sitting down on the bed. "From what Harry wrote, I shouldn't be affected by this Ultimate Sanction nonsense since I'm Muggle-born. Do you feel any differently about Theo?"
Blaise shook his head no. "The Zabinis are not a part of the Wizengamot. Mother has British citizenship but beyond that has no oaths that bind her or me to the government. I shouldn't be directly affected." He sat down in a chair facing the bed.
"What about indirectly affected?" she asked with just a faint hint of suspicion.
Blaise shrugged. "Anyone not directly affected by the Sanction who maintains a public friendship with Theo will eventually draw the hostility of everyone who is affected. Theo and Harry both apparently know that. I assume Theo will be fine if we maintain a discreet relationship with him. I'm sure he'd rather have allies who can actually help him under the table than friends who are stuck in the same miserable boat at him."
Hermione looked doubtful at that. Blaise sighed.
"And of course," he continued, "being a Gryffindor, you are more inclined to make a grand gesture of friendship even if your own house turns on you as a result."
"I've considered the matter since I got Harry's letter. Out of my Gryffindor year-mates, the only ones likely to be affected are Lavender, Ron, and possibly Jim, though he might be immune since his mother is a Hogwarts teacher. I want to stay friends with Theo, truly I do. And as a Gryffindor, I shouldn't be afraid of what others say about that."
"But...?" Blaise prompted.
She sighed in frustration. "But I saw last year first hand how brutally my fellow Gryffindors can turn on someone who offends their sensibilities, and I expect those affected will be at least as hostile towards Theo and any who stick with them as they were towards the Boy-Who-Lived after he was exposed as a Parselmouth. It's ... an intimidating prospect."
"So we'll take it one day at a time and see what happens." He stood up once more. "In the meantime, come on. I'll give you a tour of the villa. I imagine you're just dying to know where the Zabini library is."
The way Hermione's eyes lit up with excitement showed how right he was.
29 June 1993
The next day Hermione, Blaise, and the Grangers made use of the villa's swimming pool for most of the morning. Then, after lunch, Gunther delivered the Grangers to Florence's historic city-center for sight-seeing before conveying Hermione and Blaise to a meeting with Blaise's Occlumency tutor. Hermione was somewhat surprised to note that the meeting was at Il Duomo de Firenze, the mother church of the Archdiocese of Florence and one of the most famous cathedrals in the world. She was even more surprised when Blaise finally revealed the identity of his tutor.
"His name is Monsignor Guiseppe Lucardi. Among his other duties, he is a Chaplain of His Holiness, a Deacon in the Order of St. Simon Magus, and the highest ranking spiritual and temporal representative of the Catholic Church among Florence's Catholic wizards and witches. He oversaw my confirmation when I was 7 and began instructing me in Occlumency one week later." He paused at Hermione's expression. "Is that a problem?"
"No, no. I was just ... caught off guard. I remember us discussing the existence of wizards and witches who were still staunchly Catholic last Fall, but I hadn't really thought about it since then. I'm ... not particularly religious, but I promise I'll be respectful."
Blaise smiled. "I appreciate that. And to be honest, I don't consider myself particularly religious either. I reckon there's a much higher percentage of 'Cafeteria Catholics' among wizards than Muggles. After all, we can actually perform our own miracles."
Soon, the two were inside the cathedral and sitting comfortably in Monsignor Lucardi's private chambers. To Hermione's amazement, said quarters were only a small part of a sizeable complex full of wizards and witches dressed in priestly cassocks and nuns' habits, all of which somehow fit inside a small broom closet on the cathedral's second floor. The Monsignor, who gave every appearance of being a kindly village priest even though he was obviously an official nearly on par with the British Minister of Magic in importance, welcomed Hermione and Blaise and escorted them both to a sitting room. An house elf in tiny monks' robes soon appeared bearing the afternoon's merende: a platter of Nutella sandwiches and some Italian creme sodas, plus a cappuccino for the priest – the Italian answer to British tea time).
"I am pleased, Signorina Granger, that you have already availed yourself of the Italian Language potion. I myself took the English potion many years ago, but it turned out to be the American English potion, and I am informed that I speak English with an alarmingly thick Texas drawl. If young Blaise has not yet informed you, your Italian carries a slight but charming Venetian accent."
Hermione chuckled. "Thank you, Monsignor. I have noticed though that I still hear some words as Italian rather than English, such as Signorina just now. Why is that?"
"A quirk of the potion, my dear. Certain random Italian words you already understood prior to taking the potion still sound Italian. Signorina. Buongiorno. Rigatoni. Etc. But enough of our idle chit-chat. You have finished your merende and I have but an hour before I must return to my duties. Blaise wishes me to examine your Occlumency and give you advice on how to proceed."
Hermione nodded as the priest produced a wand from the sleeve of his cassock which he then pointed at the young girl.
"LEGILIMENS."
Blaise sat quietly and looked back and forth between his friend and mentor. Hermione furrowed her brow in concentration as she sought to detect the older man's psychic intrusion and then expel him. Lucardi's own expression was placid and gave no sign as to whether he was experiencing any difficulties or even whether he was doing anything at all. Finally, after a long thirty seconds, he looked away. Hermione slumped a bit in her chair and took a deep breath.
"You did quite well, my child. You are on the way to developing rudimentary Occlumency shields, though the process will take many months to perfect as I'm sure you know." The Monsignor hesitated. "Tell me, Signorina Granger. What is your purpose in studying this art? Do you wish to truly master the powers of Occlumency? Or simply protect your secrets from prying minds?"
Hermione hesitated. "Honestly, the latter. I've ... had the experience of losing my secrets and those of my friends to someone with Leglimency. Those friends and I nearly died as a result. I don't wish that to happen again if I can avoid it. But as for the higher powers of Occlumency? If possible, I would like to wait until I am older and more mature before tampering with my own emotions. I've ... heard stories of how badly that can turn out for some people."
Lucardi took a slow sip of his cappuccino. "Signorina Granger, I wish to try something. But before I do, I must ask for your consent. From my brief intrusion into your mind, I suspect that you may have a somewhat rare and valuable gift. But the process for confirming and developing that gift is ... well, somewhat painful. I assure you that it will cause no lasting harm beyond a headache which can be alleviated with a healing potion. Will you consent to my investigation?"
Hermione glanced at Blaise who simply shrugged, then she turned back to Lucardi. "Yes sir. Please proceed."
Lucardi nodded and then called for a house elf who he referred to respectfully as Brother Lolo. He politely asked the robed elf to fetch a Headache Curing Potion which the elf quickly procured. Then, Lucardi raised his wand again and looked into Hermione's eyes once more. This time, he narrowed his eyes and spoke more forcefully, almost angrily in fact. "LEGILIMENS!" Immediately, Hermione tensed and gritted her teeth. It was a struggle to maintain eye contact, and after about ten seconds, she finally cried out in anguish. Immediately, the priest released his spell and then quickly handed the potion over to the shaking girl who took it gratefully.
"My apologies, Signorina, for your pain. But it was worthwhile. I am pleased to inform you that you have the potential for natural Occlumency shields which can be developed very quickly, albeit through an unpleasant and painful process."
"Wait," interrupted Blaise. "Hermione is a natural Occlumens? But I've been helping her, and she hasn't been advancing any further than I did when I started out."
"Not a natural Occlumens, my boy. That is a truly a rare blessing. Not one wizard in 10,000 gains the full benefits of Occlumency without considerable training, a rarity on par with being a natural Legilimens or a Metamorphmagus or a born Animagus. Natural Occlumency shields, however, are far more common and are found in approximately one out of every twelve wizards or witches. These shields are dormant until triggered in response to pain-inducing Legilimency, but once active, they will detect and defend against even the most subtle forms of that art."
He turned his attention back to Hermione. "In your case, Signorina Granger, after just a few seconds of exposure to an intentionally painful Legilimency attack, I could sense rudimentary shields beginning to fall into place. If you wish to avail yourself of this admittedly painful technique, I believe that by the end of the Summer, if not sooner, you can acquire defensive shields comparable to those of a third-level Occlumens, though you would not, of course, gain any of the other, more sophisticated benefits of Occlumency until you make a formal study of the art."
Even as she massaged her temples while the pain receded, Hermione seemed excited. "But that would be wonderful! I'd be happy to wait until I'm older to become an Occlumens, assuming I ever did, if I could just gain the protective benefits now."
Lucardi smiled. "Then it is settled. Blaise has informed me that you will be in Florence for three weeks. You will meet with me three times a week during your time here for one hour during each session. And I must warn you, Signorina Granger – you will be taking a great many Headache Relieving Potions in the coming weeks."
Hermione gulped ... and then nodded affirmatively.
After another twenty minutes of painful Legilimency invasion – and two more pain relief potions – Hermione and Blaise left the cathedral and joined Gunther in the Countess's Bentley. They would be meeting the Grangers and the Countess for a bit of sightseeing followed by dinner at one of Florence's most fashionable restaurants.
As the Bentley pulled out onto the busy Florentine streets, a black SUV which had been parked further down the street slowly pulled out to follow it.
7 July 1993
4:00 p.m.
It was a late afternoon, and Blaise and Hermione were together in a small study in the east wing work on their Charms homework. Presently, they were working on a Third Year conjuration Charm that theoretically would create a small cloud of colorful butterflies. Thus far, Blaise had only managed a "flock" of caterpillars that would materialize in mid-air and then drop to the table with an audible splat. Undaunted, Hermione checked the wand movements depicted in their textbook and then waved her wand in the air.
"MARIPOSUS." There was a flash of light from the tip of Hermione's wand, followed by a stream of twenty or so brilliant multicolored butterflies which fluttered around the room at her direction. Hermione's eyes shone as she watched the display. Blaise was equally entranced, his brief and tiny surge of jealousy over Hermione's success forgotten. Then, they were both surprised by a gasp from behind them.
"Wow," said Dan Granger with an excited grin on his face. Startled, Hermione lost her concentration, and the butterflies instantly faded from view. "Oh, I'm sorry," Dan said disappointedly. "Was that my fault?"
"It's okay, Dad. You just startled me. Let me try again." Hermione waved her wand and spoke the incantation once more. Blaise started to interrupt, but he was surprised when the stream of butterflies appeared once more. Dan laughed in appreciation. Then, from further down the hall, another voice called out.
"Dan? Where did you get off to?" It was Emma Granger.
"In here, Em!" he called out excitedly without taking his eyes off the gleaming butterflies. Then, he glanced over to Blaise with a hint of embarrassment. "Sorry. It's just ... we haven't really had a chance to see Hermione do any magic since before she first went to Hogwarts."
At that second, Emma Granger followed her husband into the room. Instantly, the butterflies popped out of existence. Surprised, Hermione tried the Charm again but nothing happened.
"It's the Italian Trace," said Blaise. "You can't cast spells with your wand while directly observed by Muggles."
"I'm a Muggle," said Dan in confusion. "Her spell worked fine in front of me."
"Apparently, Dr. Granger – Mr. Dr. Granger, that is – you must actually be a squib."
"I beg your pardon," the man replied in confusion. Hermione sighed softly.
"A squib is the term used for someone without magic but who is descended from a wizarding family. On your side, we're descended from the Dagworth-Grangers, who are a somewhat prominent family of British wizards."
"Really?" he said excitedly. "We should write to them and let them know."
"I already have, Dad," Hermione said while looking down at the table. "They're, um ..."
"They're bigots, sir," Blaise interrupted. "Or at least their Head of House is. In a lot of Pureblooded families, especially in Britain, it is considered a mark of extreme shame to produce squib offspring, and most families cut ties." The boy hesitated. "Literally so, in some families."
"Oh," said Dan as he absorbed what the boy had implied. "Well then, what does it mean that I'm a squib other than a family connection that doesn't seem to matter?"
"Well," said Blaise thoughtfully. "First of all, you don't count as a Muggle for things like Muggle-Repelling Charms or the Italian version of the Trace, so you can watch Hermione do magic while you're here. Back home you could visit Hogwarts or Hogsmeade with no trouble. You can drink magical potions that either would do nothing to a Muggle or perhaps even be harmful. If you have enough latent magic, you can activate and use enchanted objects like brooms, though it would be unusual to see that in a squib several generations removed from the last wizarding ancestor." He smiled. "And anyway, I would not recommend asking Hermione to teach you to ride a broom. She's not a fan."
Hermione sniffed disdainfully. Her views on flying broomsticks were well-known among her friends.
"So," said Emma in an odd voice. "Dan can watch Hermione do magic, but if I'm here it will just mess things up?"
"Emma," Dan began.
"No, no," she interrupted. "It's okay. I'll leave you to it. See you at dinner." Then, she turned and quickly left the room.
"I, um, I'd probably better go after her," said Dan sheepishly before leaving himself. Hermione watched them go with a sad expression.
"You okay?" Blaise said.
"Yes. No. I don't know." She turned to him. "There are times, Blaise, when I envy Purebloods. You've grown up in this world, and I suppose everyone one you care about is a part of it. I feel like I'm drifting away from my parents, and I don't see what I can do to stop it. And part of me isn't sure if I should even try."
Blaise said nothing and simply returned to his notes.
9 July 1993
3:30 a.m.
Hermione shot up in her bed gasping for air as if she'd awoken from a terrible nightmare. She whispered the word Lumos and in response the bedside lamp came on, softly illuminating her room. She studied the bedroom for several seconds as if to remind herself of where she was. Then, she rose and went to the en suite bathroom to splash some cold water on her face. She looked up at her reflection in the mirror and stared at it silently for a long time.
Then, the witch returned to the bedroom and sat down at her writing desk. Pulling out a notebook and pen, she turned to a clean page and made a "to do" list for herself. Once complete, she opened her Charms textbook and began taking notes.
9 July 1993
2:00 p.m.
The office of Monsignor Lucardi
"LEGILIMENS!" the Monsignor barked out angrily as if to intimidate Hermione into losing focus. If that was his aim, it was unsuccessful, as the girl simply stared back at him almost serenely. After several seconds, Lucardi broke contact and sat back in his chair in surprise.
"My sincerest congratulations, Signorina. Your Occlumency shields now appear fully formed. I do not believe I could penetrate your thoughts with anything less than a sustained assault over the course of several hours, and even that might not be enough. Well done!"
"That's it?" Blaise practically spluttered. "But Monsignor, it's been barely two weeks. I thought you said that it would take a few months for Hermione to develop shields."
"I did," the man replied evenly. "But this is an imprecise process, my son. Remember, Signorina Granger did not develop these shields through conscious effort but rather as an autonomic response brought on by physical pain. That she did so this quickly is remarkable but still within the scope of what is possible for those blessed with her aptitude. Indeed, there have been a few reported cases of wizards developing these defensive shields after but a single Legilimency attack."
Blaise nodded somewhat dubiously, while Hermione was relaxed and confident, as if her success had never been in doubt. Later, however, as Gunther was driving the pair back to the villa, the witch suddenly seemed pensive. Blaise studied his friend carefully and with a hint of suspicion.
"What?" Hermione finally asked.
"What do you mean 'what'?" the boy replied.
"You've been staring at me for several minutes now."
"Sorry. But you seem tense for some reason. I'd have thought you'd be happy about mastering Occlumency so quickly."
She huffed. "Blaise, I haven't mastered Occlumency. I just have very good natural shields. My Occlumency is nowhere near as good as yours and probably never will be. Anyway, not to change the subject, but I think we should put a support group together to help Theo deal with any problems that arise from all that Ultimate Sanction nonsense. I've decided that punishing a child by mind-controlling half the country into hating him is horrible, and I'm going to do something about it."
Blaise actually did a double-take. "A ... support group? What?" he sputtered. "Okay, first of all, you actually did just completely change the subject. It wasn't even subtle. And second, what are you talking about with a support group?! I told you we would need to be discreet about helping Theo!"
"No, you need to be discreet because you're in Slytherin House and that's how your house operates. 'Gryffindors Charge In,' as they say."
"Hermione," Blaise said, "the people who say that don't mean it as a compliment."
"Perhaps, but that doesn't mean I can't embrace the stereotype. Now I'm thinking of getting all the Muggleborns together for a start and then sounding out Halfbloods who were Muggle-raised. Would you be willing to help me put a list together even if you don't want to be on it officially? Also, we'll need a name for our organization. What do you think we should call ourselves? The Society for the Prevention of Abusive Magic? No wait. The acronym for that is SPAM. That would just be silly."
Blaise simply gaped at the girl, his mouth opening and closing without any sound coming out. Hermione simply smiled at him and then glanced out the rear window, her smile fading as she did. After a few seconds, she turned back around and knocked on the window separating the driver and the rear of the car. Gunther rolled the window down.
"Yes, Miss 'Ermione?"
"Gunther, I couldn't help but notice that there's a black SUV following us. Unless I'm mistaken, this is the third time we've been followed by the same SUV. Is it something we should be worried about?"
Gunther checked his rearview mirror. "Yes, Miss. I t'ink it might just be. Hold on." Suddenly Hermione and Blaise were flung about in their seats as the Bentley sped up and then abruptly swerved left down a side alley. Seconds later, there was a flash of light next to the car and some trash cans exploded. Blaise cursed loudly.
"That was spellfire! Who's shooting at us?!"
"I reckon it's the Black Hand, Mister B!" Gunther exclaimed. "I told the Countess we shoulda gone to Greece instead!" He began to swerve in an effort to avoid the incoming spellfire. "Both of ya get down!"
Hermione grabbed Blaise and yanked him down to the seat. Barely a second later, a spell hit the rear window and shattered it, causing shards of glass to drop down onto the pair. Instantly, Blaise popped back up and tried to cast a blasting spell at the pursuing vehicle. Nothing happened. Blaise's eyes widened in shock.
"They've got Muggles with them! We can't use magic to defend ourselves!" Then, he felt a jerk as Hermione grabbed him by the collar of his shirt again and pulled him back down before another spell came through the broken window. The sound of spellfire was soon joined by another equally unwanted sound: gunfire.
"What's the Black Hand and why are they after us?!" Hermione yelled over the noise.
"Now is not the time, Hermione!" Blaise yelled back.
"Can you guarantee we'll have another?!"
He grimaced angrily at his friend. "Okay, fine. To greatly oversimplify things ... the Black hand is, well, the Wizarding Mafia."
Hermione fixed him with a disapproving glare. "Of course it is! How silly of me not to have expected it on my very first trip to Italy! And why is the Wizarding Mafia after us?"
"Just me. And it's not the whole Black Hand, just the Montessi family."
"DUCK!" Gunther bellowed. Then, he somehow twisted almost his entire body around (without letting go of the wheel or taking his foot off the gas) to fire off an automatic pistol over the two children's heads and out the back window towards the pursuers. Hermione gave out a startled squeal while Blaise cupped his hands over his ears to block out the noise.
"Crap," Gunther muttered while turning back to face the front. "Bulletproof windows. Probably magic." Then, he accelerated, and the Bentley careened through the back streets of Florence, knocking crates and trash cans aside wildly as it went.
"So what do these Montessi people want with you?!" Hermione asked, refusing to let go of her questions.
Blaise huffed. "Salvatore Montessi was my mother's fourth husband and also the capo di tutti capi of the Florentine Black Hand! And because of the circumstances and timing of his completely natural and non-suspicious death, I'm set to inherit his position in the organization ... if I make it alive to the age of twenty-five! Something all my Montessi cousins would rather not see happen!"
Hermione stared at her friend. "You're literally the only Italian wizard I know! And you're mob-connected! And you complain about me fulfilling stereotypes?!"
Before Blaise could respond, there was another blast of spellfire that blew out one of the rear tires. With a snarl, Gunther swerved hard, and the Bentley twisted around so that it came to a rest with the driver's side of the car facing away from the pursuers. Then, he yelled back to his two charges while putting a fresh clip into his gun.
"Get out on my side and run!" he bellowed. "Keep your heads down! I'll cover you as long as I can!" Then, he jumped out and crouched behind the front of the car before opening fire on the pursuers while Blaise and Hermione darted out of the back and ran down the street. Behind them, they heard an exchange of gunfire followed by a yell of pain from Gunther. The two students glanced back in time to see the driver stagger back with blood pouring from bullet holes in his chest and from a thick gash in his neck. Then, Gunther Hagrid fell to the ground, seemingly lifeless.
"GUNTHER!" Blaise screamed, but then Hermione grabbed him by the arm and started pulling.
"Come on! We've got to get away from here!"
The two ran down the street as fast as they could, certain that bullets and curses would soon be following. Half a block down was a small church they chose as a sanctuary and hiding place. Unfortunately, the doors were locked. Hermione looked around wildly. The Montessi killers had not yet made it down the alleyway and the street was otherwise empty of witnesses. "ALOHOMORA," she whispered urgently, and the doors opened. Once they were inside, they found the church to be deserted on a Friday afternoon.
"We should split up," Blaise said breathlessly. "It's me they're after."
"Good idea," Hermione said before turning and running up a nearby set of stairs. Blaise stared after her open-mouthed in surprise.
"So much for Gryffindor courage, I guess," he muttered to himself.
Then, he ran towards a door leading to the back of the church. But before he could reach it, he heard an angry voice call out "COLLOPORTUS" and the door slammed shut and locked itself. He turned around just in time to be hit with an Expelliarmus, and his wand flew from his pocket into the waiting hand of his chief pursuer. There were three in all. The lead figure he knew well – Enrico Montessi, Salvatore's oldest nephew who Blaise knew to be a wizard. The other two held guns instead of wands, instantly marking them as Muggles. Blaise raised his head defiantly.
"Hello, Cousin Enrico. How have you been?" he said condescendingly.
"Much better now that I have renewed our acquaintance, bastardo, for the few minutes left to it."
"You think you can kill the Don's heir and just carry on as usual, Enrico? The other families don't care for assassination of their peers. More importantly, Zabinis never forget or forgive."
"I'll take my chances, boy. Though you'll actually die at the hands of my Muggle friends here." Montessi sneered. "You don't deserve the honor of dying by a wand." He gestured and the two thugs stepped forward and pointed their guns at the boy. As one, they pulled their triggers.
Click.
The two men looked puzzled and then shook their guns, both of which seemed to have misfired at once. Meanwhile, upstairs in a balcony, hidden behind a chair, Hermione Granger kept her wand pointed at the men while softly but urgently whispering an incantation – "MERGIT FLAMMARUM"– over and over again. When the guns failed, Enrico Montessi snarled and held his own wand aloft.
"HOMENUM REVELIO!" he cried, and a pulse of magical energy shot from his wandtip in every direction. When it struck the concealed witch, there was a flash of light from her position and an audible "ding." Montessi looked up to the balcony and lashed out with a Blasting Curse which Hermione only barely dodged.
But before he could fire again, a blast of a different sort struck the church. The stained glass windows nearest Montessi and his men exploded inwards as a bloody but unbowed Gunther Hagrid crashed through to land on the floor near them. His shirt was ragged and bloodstained, but the exposed skin showed no signs of the bullet wounds he had taken. Gunther rushed forward and punched the nearest attacker in the side of the head so hard that the man's jaw shattered with an audible crack. The thug went down instantly. The other gunman ran forward and struck Gunther across the head with his useless weapon. It had absolutely no effect beyond annoying the Gunther who responded by backhanding the shocked Muggle with such force that he flew across the room and into the wall. The assassin hit so hard that a large hunk of plaster from the wall fell to the ground with him, and like his compatriot, the Muggle didn't get back up.
Now alone, Enrico aimed his wand at the towering man. "LACERO!" A red wave of cutting force struck Gunther on his chest with enough force to kill a lesser man. After staggering back a step, though, Gunther just snarled and advanced, his gaping wound quickly closing up as he moved. Now truly frightened, Enrico tried to use the Killing Curse, but just as he stammered out the incantation, Gunther grabbed him by his wrist and jerked his arm straight up. The green light of the Killing Curse shot harmlessly into the ceiling.
Gunther growled again. Then, he opened his mouth ... and kept opening it until his jaws were more than six inches apart revealing jagged rocky teeth inside. Enrico started babbling in fear as Gunther forced the man's wand and his whole hand into the driver's gaping mouth.
CHOMP!
Enrico Montessi screamed and dropped to the ground while clutching the bleeding stump where his wand hand used to be. Gunther took a step back and began chewing ... loudly. After a few seconds, he spat out several pieces of broken wood.
"Elm and ... unicorn hair!" Gunther said as he wiped Montessi's blood from his face. "Interestin' choice, Ricky."
Blaise ran over to recover his wand and then joined Gunther. If he had any concerns about what the big man had done, they didn't show. Instead, all of his attention was on Enrico.
"Go back to your family, Montessi. Tell all of your kin that House Zabini has taken your wand and the hand that held it. Tell them that is full extent of our mercy. Come after me again and my family will scourge you from the Italian peninsula."
With that threat, Blaise and Gunther turned towards the door only to see a pale and shaking Hermione waiting for them. Her attention was on Gunther, whose face had returned to its normal dimensions but who was now liberally coated with his enemy's blood.
"Are you okay, Hermione?" Blaise said with concern.
"I'm fine. I'm alright. It's just ..." She looked up at Gunther and reflexively shuddered. "I'm sorry. I didn't ... I wasn't expecting ... all that."
Gunther smiled wanly. "It's okay, little miss. No one ever does."
She nodded and the trio quickly left the church.
Later at the Villa Zabini...
Hermione and Blaise sat at a small table in the sun room. Gunther had washed his hands and face of blood as best he could, and then he brought two glasses of milk (to which a shot of Amaretto had been added) to fortify the two children. The trio had commandeered Montessi's SUV to get back to the villa, and along the way, Hermione had explained in response to Blaise's questions that she had hidden herself in the balcony so that she could use magic without the Muggles seeing her and thus neutralizing her wand. Specifically, she had prevented their assailants' guns from working through an innovative use of the Fire Suppression Charm, which temporarily prevented all forms of combustion including the discharge of firearms. Other than that, the girl was subdued. While Hermione had maintained great poise in the face of wizards and Mafiosi trying to murder her friend, it seemed watching Gunther Hagrid bite a man's hand off was a bridge too far.
"Well, then. If'n you two 'er okay, I needs to change me shirt. I've got to pick up the Countess and yuir Mum and Da' before too long, and I can't look all..." He glanced down at his blood-drenched shirt which looked as if he'd worn it to an abbatoir. Then, he nodded to Hermione and left the sun room. Hermione took a sip of her fortified milk. Her hands were shaking.
"Are you okay?" Blaise asked again. "Your kind of worrying me. For someone with natural Occlumency shields, you seem ... highly emotional right now."
Her eyes darted to his. "Blaise, I don't have the emotional control powers that you and Harry do. Maybe no one can read my mind and discover what I've seen today, but that doesn't make it any less... traumatic." She leaned forward onto the table.
"I mean, seriously, when you said you had secrets that you didn't want to share, I was thinking about 'who you might have a crush on' or 'why are you so absurdly good-looking' or ..." She paused and blushed as she realized what she'd just said. Blaise's own eyes widened in surprise, and he smiled despite himself. Then, Hermione shook her head and forged onward. "But I was not expecting you to be the secret Godfather-in-training of the Wizarding Mafia. Nor was I expecting to find out that your butler is ... whatever your butler is!"
"Gunther's both a servant and a friend," Blaise replied in a calming voice. "He's nothing for you to be afraid of."
"HE BIT OFF A GUY'S HAND!" Hermione shrieked before clapping her hand over her mouth. Blaise rubbed his eyes tiredly. The two sat quietly for a minute or so. Then, Gunther returned, still buttoning up his clean shirt. He coughed diplomatically.
"I'm heading out. Um, Mr. B? If'n you think it would help and you trust the young miss ta keep it a secret, I wouldn't mind if'n you told 'er about ... well, about me." He glanced at Hermione and blushed slightly as if embarrassed over his own existence. Then, he quietly left. Hermione looked over to Blaise expectantly. The boy sighed deeply.
"Okay, here it is. Gunther is half-troll. That gives him enhanced strength, incredible levels of regeneration, and, well, the ability to eat nearly anything he can fit into his exceptionally wide mouth. Needless to say, that makes him an excellent bodyguard as you saw today."
Hermione stared at him for a full three seconds.
"Half... troll?"
"Half-troll."
She stared some more. "And he's the cousin of Rubeus Hagrid from Hogwarts, who is half-giant."
"Yes," he replied while taking another sip of milk.
She stared even longer. "So there were two brothers named Hagrid and one married a giant and the other married a troll?"
Blaise actually laughed at that. "No, Hermione, marriage never entered into it. Come on now. You're an educated young Muggleborn. I assume you had some form of sex education, right?"
The witch nodded. "My last year of Muggle schooling had a health unit that explained the basics."
"Okay, then. Consider the following facts. The average adult male wizard is around six feet tall. The average female giant is between forty and seventy feet tall. Given that disparity, how exactly do you think that sexual reproduction between the two species could possibly work?"
The question astonished her. In the nearly two years that Hermione had known that Hagrid was a half-giant, she'd never considered the matter. "With ... difficulty?"
Blaise laughed again. "Bit of an understatement there. Gunther and his cousin Rubeus, like their ... broodmates, I suppose, were not the product of mixed-species relationships but rather of illicit magical cross-breeding experiments. In the 1920's, there was a dark witch – a would-be Dark Lady, in fact – who called herself Lady Echidna. Her big plan was to create an army of human-creature hybrids that were compelled to obey her will. She was brought to justice fairly quickly by an ICW taskforce and is famous today mainly for her connection to the dark wizard who served as her lieutenant before he abandoned her when the ICW showed up: Gellert Grindelwald."
Hermione gasped at the mention of Voldemort's sole rival for the title of "Worst Dark Lord of the 20th Century."
"So that was why Armando Dippet hated Hagrid so much. It wasn't just bigotry against a human-giant hybrid. He believed that Hagrid's very birth was the result of dark magic."
"Which, to be fair, it was. The process involved vivisecting live wizards and creatures, combining their essences, and then incubating the results in highly illegal and very disgusting potions for nine months. But Hagrid himself is a good person despite his origins, if hopelessly naive and ignorant of his origins. His adopted father lied to him and told him his 'mum' had left their family to return to the giant colonies, and he still believes it. And Gunther is a good person too. Most of Echidna's creations were literal monsters, misshapen horrors that lacked sentience or, worse, were self-aware but violently insane, and those were all put down. Only a few were allowed to live. Gunther and Rubeus were adopted by the Hagrid brothers, a pair of ICW hit wizards who retired to Britain after Echidna was brought down. They both felt that they had an obligation to raise the two infants who could sort of pass for human even if they really weren't. Dumbledore was also part of the taskforce, and he arranged it for them. There was also a half-veela who was adopted into the Delacour family in France. She eventually married one of the sons of the Delacour family, and today they have a daughter at Beauxbatons who's only a few years older than us. There was another half-giant who was exceptionally skilled at magic and, somewhat amazingly, is currently the headmistress at Beauxbatons. I guess the French are more open-minded about the whole thing than the British. I think there were a few other half-breeds, but I don't know any details about them if they even survived until today."
Hermione stiffened at Blaise's implication that Wizarding Britain might be more bigoted than Wizarding France ... and then slumped as she realized it was perfectly true.
"You know, I'd honestly hoped that the wizarding world was ... better than the Muggle world. But it's not, is it. You have bigotry. You have corruption. You have unethical experiments straight out of the Josef Mengele playbook. You even have organized crime. You're just like us except that magic gives you the potential to be awful in new and innovative ways."
Blaise rolled his eyes. "I don't really understand this you and us business, Hermione. You're a witch. The wizarding world is your world now as much as mine, warts and all."
"Is it really, Blaise? I'm a witch, but also a Muggleborn. And no one is ever going to let me forget it. Harry may have put a muzzle on Draco Malfoy, but I still hear Pansy Parkinson and Cassius Warrington whisper Mudblood whenever I get too near. Sitting here in the stately Villa Zabini with your house elves and your half-troll manservant and all the secrets you have that led you to become an Occlumens before you were out of short pants ... I'm sorry, Blaise, but you can't possibly know what it's like to be a Muggleborn."
With that, she rose slowly from the table (for Hermione was suddenly quite tired) and walked out of the sun room. Blaise stared down into the cup of fortified milk in front of him. He took a deep breath.
"I am a Muggleborn," he said calmly but firmly. After about five seconds, Hermione poked her head back into the room.
"... what?!"
He looked up at her with a sad smile. "I. Am. A. Muggleborn. My birthname was Christian Nembiko. My birth-father was Mosi Nembiko, a Muggle from Kenya who came to Britain to study medicine. My birth-mother was Sabrina Zabini, who was my adoptive mother's youngest sister and also a squib. Unlike most Pureblood families, however, the Zabinis don't throw their squibs out into the cold. They maintained ties with Sabrina and ensured that she was taken care of financially and had an excellent education. Like my father, she decided to become a doctor. They met at university, fell in love, and got married. They both completed medical degrees but instead of going to hospitals or some fancy private practice, they decided to open up a small clinic for underserved immigrants in Brixton. Sabrina had a sizeable stipend from the Zabini family that covered their living expenses, and they were both happy to essentially provide medical services at cost."
He paused suddenly and then swallowed almost painfully. "They were both murdered when I was six."
Hermione gasped. "Death Eaters? Or some wizards who had a vendetta against House Zabini?"
Blaise snorted softly. "Honestly, Hermione," he said with a trace of bitterness. "You just complained that the wizarding world was no better than the Muggle world. Well, the reverse is equally true. My mother was white, my father was black, and we lived in Brixton in the early 1980's. Do the math."
Hermione looked away and then closed her eyes. She had been too young to understand such things at the time, but she was indeed very well-read for a girl of her age. The London suburb of Brixton, with its large immigrant community, had been a hotbed for racial violence throughout that time period and even to the present day.
Blaise saw that she understood. "At some point, a group of skinheads found out that a miscegenated couple was providing free medical care to all the darkies down in Brixton Town, and they firebombed the flat we lived in. My father tried to get through the flames to reach help but he didn't make it. My mother and I were trapped upstairs with no way out."
He blinked, and suddenly his eyes glistened as he remembered that night. "Then, my mum kissed me on the forehead and took off the charm bracelet she'd worn for as long as I remembered. It was gold and had a small sparrow charm on it. She put it in my hand and told me to say 'Passeroto,' which was Italian for Little Sparrow. That was my ... my Aunt Serena's pet name for my birth mother ... and now for me. It was also the password for the Portkey in the charm."
He inhaled deeply. "It was a miracle that it worked. Usually, only first generation squibs have enough magic to activate something as powerful as a Portkey. Maybe my mother had seen some signs of accidental magic that I don't remember. Maybe she just prayed. But either way, I turned out to be a wizard, and the Portkey carried me to the home of Lady Serena Zabini, my aunt who became my mother. I never saw my birth parents again outside of old photos."
"And she changed your name so that no one would know of your true Muggleborn nature," Hermione guessed in a soft voice.
He nodded. "The Zabinis may look after our squibs better than most, but we're still an old Pureblood family. The circles we travel in would have looked down on me for being Muggleborn, so she fashioned a new identify for me as her lovechild with a Pureblood wizard who had since died. She'd actually had a child born the same year as me, a girl named Blaise. That child died before the age of two, so she bribed the right people to alter the birth certificate so that it would be evidence for my Pureblood ancestry."
Blaise looked over to his friend with an amused expression. "So you wanted to know all my secrets, Hermione. I'm a Muggleborn pretender with a half-troll bodyguard and mortal enemies in the Black Hand, the crime syndicate I will hopefully one day inherit. Satisfied for now?"
She chuckled. "Oh, I don't know. Do you have any other secrets that will shock me to the core when I eventually find them out?"
Blaise said nothing at first. He thought briefly about the tiny amulet under his shirt hanging from a rosary, the one that bore the insignia of the Deathly Hallows and that not even his mentor and confessor, Monsignor Lucardi, knew about. But even if he was ready to tell Hermione about that, it was not his secret to share. He took another sip from his milk and savored the aftertaste of the Amaretto liqueur that had been added.
"Well, I've started noticing girls, if that counts," he finally said in a languid voice.
Hermione shook her head. "Nope. You're thirteen. That's not the least bit shocking."
Blaise took another longer sip. "And also boys," he added lightly almost as an afterthought.
The other Muggleborn studied her friend for a few seconds before breaking out into a smile. "Still not shocking," she said as she pulled him into a friendly hug which he returned.
"What about you?" the boy inquired. "Any dark and sinister secrets you want to share?"
"Sorry. No big secrets for me. I'm a Gryffindor. We're all as transparent as glass."
Blaise laughed in agreement. Then, they heard a door open in the front of the house and went to investigate. It was Gunther returning with the Grangers and the Countess. Hermione looked over at her friend and thought about what it must have felt like to lose one's parents, not by them gradually pulling apart, but through terrible violence. Then, she rushed forward and pulled her mother and then her father into a hug.
"Hermione, dear," said a surprised Emma. "What's wrong?"
The witch looked up at her parents, one a Muggle and the other a squib (just like Blaise's parents), and she smiled.
"Nothing's wrong, Mum. I just realized I haven't spent any time with my parents on this vacation, and it's time I did something about that. I've finished ... one of my projects early, so why don't we go off tomorrow and do something together as a family. Something completely and wonderfully Muggle."
Dan looked back and forth between his wife and daughter and gave a laugh. "Sure, sweetheart. Your mother and I will go change clothes, and then we'll plan out something for tomorrow. Something all three of us can do together."
The three Grangers hugged again. Blaise watched them with a smile, while the Countess did so with a look of detached amusement. Then, Dan and Emma went upstairs. As soon as they were gone, Hermione went over to Gunther, and to the hulking man's surprise, she gave him a strong hug as well.
"Thank you for saving our lives today, Gunther," she whispered in a voice full of affection. Somewhat surprised but also pleased, the half-troll patted the girl gently on the back.
"Any time, little miss. Any time."
10 July 1993
1:30 a.m.
Hermione lay in her bed staring at the ceiling. The curtains were open, but the moon was only half-full and its light was dim. She sighed in annoyance and pounded on her pillow, as if hoping that changing its shape would help sleep come. Honestly, it was ridiculous that she should be robbed of sleep over guilt from such a minor sin in the face of all the much larger sins of the world, but there it was. Blaise Zabini – mysterious, duplicitous, manipulative, Slytherinesque Blaise Zabini – had opened himself up to the girl and told her things he'd probably never shared with anyone other than perhaps the Countess and Gunther.
And then, she'd lied in his face. She wondered if her newfound Occlumency protections were what had allowed her to lie so effortlessly.
"Sorry. No big secrets for me. I'm a Gryffindor. We're all as transparent as glass."
Liar.
"LUMOS." The soft lights in the bedroom came on, and with a huff, Hermione pulled herself out of bed and made her way to the writing desk. She flipped open the notebook into which she'd written a to-do list the night before, and for a long time, she stared at all the tasks she'd set for herself over the course of the coming year. Then, slowly and with deliberate purpose, she drew a long thin line through the first item.
"One down," she muttered to herself.
21 DAYS UNTIL AZKABAN
FINALLY, here's the next chapter. At this point, I'm afraid I have to admit defeat and say that I cannot reliably predict when I'll have the next chapter up. I will do so as quickly as possible, but it's going to be two to three weeks and I can't say any better than that.
Accordingly, the next chapter, "Jim Potter and the Beast of Shamballa," will be posted as soon as it's done, but right now, I can't give an exact date. Definitely don't expect it before October 14, 2016. On the bright side, I am confident that once I get through the end of the year, my current work issues will slow down, and I'll get back to a more consistent posting schedule. I will also at some point come up with something to go in place of the previous chapters Author Note, because I hate chapters that are nothing but ANs as much as the next guy, but I was tired of people PMing me to ask if I'd died.
AN 1: Almost forgot to mention it. The part of Gunther Hagrid will be played by Hafthór Björnsson, the actor who plays the Mountain on Game of Thrones ... assuming it's possible to teach him to speak with a Devonshire accent.