Chapter Eleven: Not by Blood or Bone, but Secrets.
Disclaimer: I own none of the material written by J. K. Rowling, or her publishing company, or Warner Brothers.
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"For a book that ruddy well resisted my every attempt at destroying of it," Hermione hissed nastilly, "It certainly does not want to be read either." Sparks had glittered against Wonky's fingers after she tried to open the Villis Malificus the week prior. Nasty spores immediately grew on the poor creature's fingers which required immediate medical attention. Now, the night before she was to leave for Hogwarts again, Hermione found herself standing in front of her desk. The book sitting there. Taunting her.
Blood sacrifices had been useless. The cut of a palm only left Hermione feeling weak in the head, and the tome glittering malevolently. No different results were obtained after she ordered a shipment of exotic blood specimens from a discreet shop in Knockturn Alley. Such disappointment hardly faded by the time Hermione was performing dark little rituals. Relics from mummies, obscenely pricey, were crushed with a pestle and mortar. Still, the Villis Malificus did not budge open at all after having been left in a box of bone powder for several days. "Pak," She whipped her wand about so that the expensive luggage set located in her wardrobe neatly engulfed all of the items scattered about in need of packing. One of the benefits of living in an Unplottable townhouse was being able to use magic every so often without detection.
Deep below her feet came a piercing wail from the expansive, dark basements below. Of course, they seemed much more like dungeons than anything else. Pureblood families apparently possessed a darker element by nature which meant that portions of their estates often had a space dedicated to such unauthorized research. None of the Grangers had dared to try clearing it out when Hermione could barely use magic as it was. So they had pushed everything undesirable down below, for dark magic had a way of unfurling upwards and corrupting everything it touched when neglected. Of course, now trapped beneath the Townhouse were all manner of unpleasant, loud, things. A Ghoul the Granger family had collectively backhanded and kicked into the basement was fond of screaming late at night in revenge.
Sighing she paced about. With all of the anxiety caused by the prospect of returning to Hogwarts, as well as the stress of trying to open the book, her nights were marked by insomnia. There was also the added fact that the nearly-thirteen-year-old girl could still not come to grips with her rapidly changing life. Many magazines who had secured her word that the Muggleborn-Who-Survived would grace their covers over the winter holidays also sent massive packages of samples. Expensive heels to break in, perfumes which bore numerous enchantments, glittering jewels, as well as pretty dresses and robes to try on in advance. Feeling a bit ridiculous Hermione stood in front of her mirror whilst clad in the latest batch of fashionable haute couture. She clutched at her sleek hair which grew increasingly frizzed as the sleakeazy wore off.
Would Cedric like it? Her mind instantly flew into a disastrous whirlwind at that train of thought. 'Wasting your time on Diggory again?' The Voice made his presence known again in the most grating manner imaginable. Ever since the discovery of her Godelot blood the force had changed its stance towards her. Hermione could recognize the greedy, hungersome inflections in the thought waves whenever she thought of Cedric. The Silky Voice had grown helpful by scores as well. Betraying much knowledge during her studies in a very eager-to-please manner. Charismatic and venomous at the same time. Heart beating wildly she was reminded of the imminent moment when it would be necessary to eject it from her body.
'You will never be free of me. Not totally, anyways, my sweet mudblood,' It taunted in a snarl that was still somehow attractive. 'You think I am in your head, but I am actually melded into your golden, corruptible soul. Remove me. There are ways. Though know that we will always be connected to one another Hermione Granger. Tampering with the soul is no simple matter.'
Furious that he was always in her head she simply focused on glaring at the book. "How many secrets must I Iive with? In addition to you not opening." She sighed, "What would the Wizarding World think if they knew their precious muggleborn 'savior' was a Godelot. Or that-." With a loud click the enchantments of the clasp visibly dissipated. "You open with whispered secrets," Hermione reasoned aloud. Not quite knowing how to feel about such a thing. Flicking the gilded cover open she groaned at what awaited her eyes. Letters which burned as bright as any fire shifted in never-ending patterns. Forming into different alphabets, different languages, and even into runes.
"The Godelot paranoia rears its ugly, nonsensical head again," She sighed prior to digging in with a magnifying glass.
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The Hogwarts Express looked just as it had when she last saw it. Of course, that was an ironic constant given just how much in the circumstances surrounding Hogwarts had changed. Harry and Ron had not responded to any of her owls. That could have been blamed on Dobby the House Elf, at least for Harry, but Ron had no excuse. He came from a wizarding family, and her lie to the little creature had doubtlessly gotten him off of her mail. "Are you excited sweetheart?" Her mother had pulled her in for another teary-eyed embrace.
"In a manner of speaking," Hermione responded whilst struggling to keep any moroseness out of her voice. Both parents were now fully in the know about everything that was going on. If they started to fear that the political saturation of Hogwarts was something she could not handle there would be no hesitancy in her removal. A terrible idea given the loss of potential connections to be forged with Wizarding Britain's next heirs. Of course, Hogwarts curriculum had rotted away in recent decades compared to other wizarding institutions of education. Slipping back the girl gave her father a swift peck on the cheek and received another hug.
"You behave this year. If there is another Dark Lord loose in that… School you are to steer well clear!" He tried to joke about it though they both knew how serious the man was. Only a vicious, blistering argument between him, Cordelia, and her mother kept her out of Ilvermorny. Stepping back again Hermione smoothed her designer, knee length, wine-red dress whilst noting a gaggle of students whispering about her nearby on the platform.
"Pay them no heed," Cordelia's hand grasped gently at her granddaughter's chin. Brown eyes met brown eyes. "Remember what is expected of you. Steer well clear of Albus Dumbledore. Do your best to impress Nicholas Flamel. That is all that matters. Understood?" A sharp nod was all that the woman seemed to need. In a surprising move she pulled Hermione into a bone-crushingly tight hug. "Study hard, but remember confidence. Self-assuredness is what made Dumbledore and Voldemort so powerful, yet it is what you lack," She whispered, not unkindly. "Power runs through those veins. You could work wonders with that magic, miracles even, if you only believed it so. Remember that Hermione."
The witch moved to pull away, yet the girl held her tight. "I am looking through the archives of newspapers at Hogwarts. A blood feud in Ireland like our family faced will not be hard to find. The answers I need will be found no matter how you wish to leave me in the dark." Her warning seemed to have had no impact whatsoever as Cordelia Granger pulled away to stand beside her son again.
With a chuckle, but eyes as serious as ice, she smiled a brilliantly white grin. "Good. You know how much I appreciate the quality of self-agency, girl." They all began to shoo her away. Her mother with unshed tears in both eyes.
Heels clicking the pretty youth smoothed self-consciously at her sleekened locks prior to enchanting her enchanted trunk to float close behind. The belly of the train proved to be the first of many challenges that day. Who to sit with? Nowhere she looked could Harry Potter or Ronald Weasley be seen. Then there was the matter of wannabe sycophants, mostly Gryffindors, who wished to curry favour with the Muggleborn Princess of Hogwarts. She finally came upon a compartment halfway through the train that left her remembering something rather important. Sliding the door open prior to stepping inside Hermione Granger found herself soon staring at Daphne Greengrass. Sheepishness indicated unfamiliarity and weakness. Not the best way to go about befriending a Pureblood. So the girl boldly levitated her silver-wrought trunk into the overhead prior to sitting down elegantly opposite the Greengrass witch.
They stared at one another for a very long while. Hermione remembered again that Daphne Greengrass was not interested in becoming best bosom buddies. The, already beautiful, icy-eyed blonde likely only wished to forge enough of an acquaintanceship to one day exchange favours. 'You are FAR too cynical,' Silky Voice interjected, 'Even in a back-scratching situation Slytherins can forge close friendships. Your grandmother simply practices a scorched earth mentality, and plots against anyone with the slightest inkling of power. Find a way to show who is in charge. Then exploit that 'friendship' as much as you can in your favour.'
"I respect you Greengrass," Hermione diverged from the advice given to her. Perhaps both the Silky Voice and Cordelia were both wrong in this instance. Either option might have worked though the girl had noticed how she always struggled whenever trying to emulate others. Perhaps it would be much easier to try to get her own feel for politics. Wise, even.
"Really?" Greengrass' head tilted with genuine inquiry, straight locks of blonde splaying loosely about. "How so, Granger?"
"You knew full well the consequences of talking to a muggleborn at such a public venue as my awards ceremony. Let alone posing in a friendly manner alongside me for widely publicized Daily Prophet photo." Brown eyes sparkled pointedly. This was challenging for Hermione, as she had long ago given up on trying to befriend other people the traditional route. Given the lack of trolls presently about it seemed she had no choice. Confidence, Cordelia's choice advice rang throughout both ears. "From that alone I can surmise that you are the kind of person who knows what they want and goes for it. Even if it was your father who told you to befriend me for political purposes that still shows loyalty to something other than the Dark Arts, or Voldemort. Something I believed all Slytherins incapable of."
"I am loyal to power," The blonde witch snapped back with a sly grin, "And was raised to believe that the Dark Lord would return one day. Those two traits combined are why we find ourselves sitting together. You managed to defeat a, albeit weakened, powerhouse that I always thought would return. Now you have wealth, celebrity, and political influence in unbiased packaging. Just the sort of thing us Greengrasses need."
"Why would House Greengrass desire a mudblood on the Wizengamot?" Hermione enquired quizzically. "How would associating with someone like me help your bloodline prosper?"
"The world is changing Hermione Granger. We do not like it, especially not my grandfather, but there is no other option than to embrace change." Blue eyes froze over. "You have met my father. He is the silver tongued politician behind our family business. Manipulating centuries old allies into asking for things we cannot publically seem interested in, or individually secure the votes for. My mother and grandfather are far more private. They oversee the day-to-day affairs of our immensely lucrative company. We need someone like you to one day advocate for the things we need to thrive. In exchange you will be given immense financial assistance in whatever social quackery projects you undoubtedly have planned to 'improve' Wizarding Britain."
"What exactly is the…Nature of your business?" Her voice was hesitant. The Greengrasses were indeed desirable allies. Of course, their family trade seemed to be a lot less socially acceptable than dentistry. If it were truly murky Hermione feared that she might have to walk away.
Here Greengrass paused as though quite unsure of herself. "Officially," The emphasis placed on that word alone was nearly unfathomable, "We work in the distribution of substances and objects of great rarity. Unofficially, some might be inclined to claim that we are quite deeply immersed in the black markets. Others might even claim that us Greengrasses are the black market. Though that is simply ludicrous. We are merely the most adequate facilitator of many transactions."
'Now cue the point when you turn your nose upwards. Ignoring that these are the first Purebloods to give you a chance at proving yourself. Moral righteousness ha-.' Hermione flicked her chin sharply, probably looking quite demented, yet managing to shut the pompous arse up regardless. "We can both agree that I am the one doing House Greengrass a far greater favour, yes?" A muted nod caused a dangerous smile to flicker across the muggleborn's face. "Good. I will contact my grandmother prompting her to schedule a lunch with Lord Greengrass. You will inform your own family as well. They all shall negotiate the more serious terms of an alliance in our stead." Brown eyes grew warmer as the sterner words were brushed aside. "I do not believe in fake friendships. We will study together, eat together, and perform all manner of other tasks together. You must become accustomed to being around a muggleborn, or this alliance will mean nothing." Shock was seeping through her body at the words coming from her mouth. Though she had resolved to do the opposite of whatever Cordelia or the Silky Voice expected of her.
"Fine. If that is what you want, Granger, I can try to play nice." The tone was icier than would have been liked, but Hermione supposed it was a start.
At that resolution the train began to shift forwards.
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Her friends did not arrive from the train with anyone else, was the first thing Hermione noticed. Brushing it off as the two of them merely being lost in the crowd she sat with Greengrass in the carriage ride up to Hogwarts. Both of them trying to ignore all of the whispers by discussing their upcoming classes. Apparently the other girl was a very studious student even if not quite so attentive as Hermione. After parting ways in the Great Hall she scanned the hall furiously for a sign of either Harry or Ron. Absentmindedly clapping through the Sorting the witch turned towards the nearest Weasley. "Percy," Her tone held nothing but politeness for the Gryffindor, "Have you seen Ronald?"
His voice turned cold as a knife. "No. Though I doubt very much that he will want to be speaking with you of all people." Then the boy turned his nasty attitude away from her so that little Ginny Weasley's violent glare could fill the space left behind. Shocked, though not willing to betray it with Dumbledore staring so hawkishly for any weaknesses, Hermione elegantly began to eat. Lavender and Parvati had at least been eager to fill the empty spots beside her themselves. Now that there was a need to look for it Hermione could finally peer through the adoring crowd of girls who had been eager to get in good graces with the 'muggleborn model'. There were indeed many people glaring at her with just as much venom. Apart from the Slytherins of course. She should have anticipated how many loyal followers Dumbledore had, and that her exploits had certainly squared them opposite of one another.
"Now," Dumbledore stood before them to give his speech as the food vanished away. Hermione noticed that the prior year he had done so before fattening them up. "I welcome you all to another exciting year at Hogwarts. Those new to our midsts shall find it a challenge to encounter a single boring day here." Following this was the seemingly customary warning to steer clear of the Forbidden Corridor. "I feel it necessary to inform you all that recent actions designed to undermine the authority of this school will not be tolerated. Fame-hungered attempts at slandering our reputation as one of the finest Wizarding schools in the world are not to be welcomed." Just under half of the student body turned to glare at her. Everything else the old fart said was hazy. All Hermione knew was that her fingers clenched on her knife tightly. Everything in her line of vision turned red.
'Stop.' Standing in front of her behind a sullen Seamus Finnegan was the most handsome boy she had ever seen. Almost like a ghost, but cast in a hazy hue. As the sight of the handsome, black-haired boy calmed her down, Hermione realized that she had been dangerously close to unleashing a burst of accidental magic. Frighteningly enough that was due to the sort of black rage only Dumbledore could cause to flow through her veins. When she looked back up the figure had vanished. Students were now flowing in such a heavy crowd to the dormitories that Hermione had no opportunity to contemplate what happened.
Deeply shaken the girl struggled upwards. Cedric waved to her at one point though she tried to pretend to have not seen it. So caught up in her own head that it was a small wonder the witch managed to arrive at Gryffindor Tower at all. Behind even the slowest of stragglers she finally slipped inside the Fat Lady's portrait into that comfortingly crimson common room. Ambling momentarily to continue mulling everything over. So it was no surprise at all that Hermione was caught off guard upon fully entering the space. "Where have the two of you been!" Her voice was unrestrained. "All summer I have written only for the pair of you to ignore my every owl!"
They sat in front of the fire across from one another. Nearby were several giggling third year girls who instantly quietened. Hermione realized in that moment that nothing good was about to happen. Ron sneered, "Why would we ever talk to a liar?" She stumbled back a bit as though physically punched. "All summer we have read about the things you said against Dumbledore. My mum and dad said that you are nothing but an ungrateful, attention-seeker!"
"Oh, do you just believe everything your parents tell you, Ronald?" Hermione snarled back, "Figures with your highly noticeable lack of a brain!" Her voice volume was close to screaming.
"His parents are right," Harry's cold, cutting tone hurt so much worse. "You have changed yourself so much." He waved a critical hand her way. "For what? To pretend you are some perfect Slytherin? What is next? Are you going to date Malfoy?" Green hatred could have killed her on the spot. "I take back what I said last term. You will never be a true Gryffindor. Albus Dumbledore is twice the Lion you will ever be."
Tears were brimming, but the muggleborn refused to let them fall at this devastating betrayal. She was not just Hermione Granger anymore. Her name was Hermione Granger-Pyrites and there was a mountain of haughty, aristocratic legacy to be upheld. "I sacrificed so much for you last term Harry Potter. I put my life on the line so you would not have to meet the same Dark Wizard that murdered your parents." Brown orbs filled with shattered love rammed shards of glass at those cold emeralds. "If you are incapable of reciprocating an ounce of that same loyalty then our friendship is over." Those firm stones did not yield as glass cut against their surfaces. With a scoff she spun on her heels to pursue a night of well-deserved rest.
Absolutely done caring about whatever mess Ronald Weasley or Harry Potter would get stuck in next.
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I have basically fit in as much as I could here. Mostly plot development I had to get right to continue on.
P.S. Did you really think the Golden Trio would get a shiny reunion? Just like that? Something tells me Dumbledore would have already turned Ron and Harry against her.