A/N: Harry Potter et al belong to JK Rowling, with my thanks for letting me play with her toys.
There have been mentions of how sad the story it. It Will get better, but this is where my Hermione comes from, you have to know Jean to know Hermione. This chapter changes the pace significantly, and the next chapter even more so.
CH6 Hermione Granger… Witch?
Sunday, October 31st 1993 (Continued)
Number 12 Grimmauld Place
The evening had passed in a blur which at times seemed to crawl. That made no sense. But then again nothing about this night did, ever since they had gotten on that last bus home.
'Home. My house has burned down. At least Mum was safe in the funeral home... not now!' Jean blinked, trying hard to make sense of things, but now things, not... not the thing she couldn't deal with. Finally she stopped trying to think altogether and just sat and waited, for the first time in her life her mind cooperated when she wanted to simply stop thinking.
There wasn't any point in crying, or yelling for that matter, as she had learned when she found herself unable to hear anything, even her own cries, after breaking down moments after arriving. A plump red headed woman glanced at her once in awhile as she worked until Jean stopped crying. Then she had waved a stick at her and suddenly the busy kitchen noises were returned. She learned her lesson - don't be loud.
So Jean had sat in the kitchen with her dad for what seemed like hours, the world spinning with activity around them. Some sort of crisis was going on, that much was clear. She had no idea how long it was until the dark man that had 'magically' snatched them off of the street came back.
She knew when he walked into the kitchen because the bustle stopped for a moment. He looked terrible and smelled worse. Her dad's eyes got really wide when he looked upon their captor, but then he closed back down and stayed silent.
The man in black spoke briefly with the red headed woman who seemed to run the kitchen (and Jean felt sure was watching the Grangers closely) and then left again. When he returned a few minutes later he had changed clothes and didn't have that smell any more, but he still looked out of sorts.
Now the three of them were in a small room which had the vague odor of detergents. She had wrinkled her nose as they first entered and he had told them that this 6' by 8' room used to be a cleaning closet; but they had needed the space so they expanded it and converted the closet into a bedroom. He had apparently noticed the smell as he mentioned not being any good at 'those charms' and said someone would take care of the smell later.
All of these things were stated with such calm assurance that Jean could only assume the man believed his words. Even if almost everything he said sounded like mad ramblings.
The closet-turned-bedroom had two small beds, one on either side of the doorway, and the chair in between as the only furnishings. The Grangers sat huddled on one rickety bed while their 'host' sat on the chair, by the door.
She sat quietly next to her dad as their kidnapper/rescuer explained the new world she was now a part of. Or was she? Did she want to be? Did she have a choice?
Looking at her dad's face she could see he was just as tuned-out as she was. Perhaps he was in shock? She squeezed his hand, still clasped in hers since they had left the kitchen, and got an answering squeeze. He turned to look at her and slowly shook his head, but what that meant she could only guess.
"Perhaps we should continue this tomorrow." The man seemed to have realized that he had lost his audience and had already started towards the door.
Returning to the present, Jean realized she really was feeling out of it when the dark man glanced at the chair as he turned at the exit; with a wave of his hand it was gone. She tried to feel something about that. It should have been astonishing or startling at the least, but right now all she could think was how hard she was trying not to think about…
"One of the nurses will be by in a bit with some clothing and to show you to the loo. You can change there and use the robes on the beds as you go between. Or do you want a curtain in here? I don't mean to put you in an awkward spot, but I figured you wouldn't want separate rooms, at least for tonight."
That was very thoughtful of him. She should really thank him for being such a thoughtful host. Or kidnapper, or whatever. Good Lord she really had no idea what to think. Her dad picked up the heavy, dark blue cloth robe and looked at the man who called himself Sirius Black.
"Thank you, Mr. Black." He said, rather mechanically, and turned his back on their host to look at Jean.
She saw the exhaustion plain on her dad's face, that and… something else, something she had never seen before on his usually calm face. Was it fear?
"Please, call me Sirius. Mr. Black was my father." His forced laughter fooled none of them. "Hermione," the man continued, but her dad turned quickly and interrupted him.
"Why do you call her that? She hasn't been called that since she was a little girl!" The vehemence in her dad's voice startled Jean when disappearing furniture had had no effect. It didn't seem to faze the tall dark man who had stalked them on the bus one bit.
"Her name is recorded in the rolls, the way all witches and wizards names are recorded once they demonstrate their magic. Hermione's name has been there since just after she was born - she is a powerful witch, or will be once she learns to use her magic properly."
The man, Sirius, spoke these words as though he were discussing yesterday's weather. His tone was calming, yet he spoke with an authority that brooked no argument. It was as if he were trying to handle a troublesome dog. Jean shook that thought away, her full head of hair swishing to the side as her tired body copied her thoughts.
Mistaking her action, their host sighed rather dramatically. "Listen, I know you are overwhelmed, but denying what you are is not going to make it go away. As I said earlier, there are some very evil people out there who know who you are and want you dead. Their reasons are not important, but their abilities are. We fooled them with an illusion tonight, but by morning the papers will report that there were no bodies found in the ruins of the fire - and you will be hunted with renewed fervor.
Voldemort put his most trusted servant on your trail…" The dark look that passed over his face was only there for a moment, and Jean wasn't sure what it meant, but it couldn't be good. He continued in his reasonable, yet passionate voice; now that he had her attention he was a very convincing speaker.
"If you deny your abilities and choose not to learn how to use them, you will be defenseless when you eventually have to face these murderers. There are many people in this house and other safe houses around Britain that are just like you, though some of them are not as lucky as you two are. Some of them are orphans who only survived tonight because their magic saved them accidentally; the Death Eaters killed their families anyways." His voice was strained, his eyes burning into Jean's with such conviction that she could not look away.
"We are at war. Unfortunately, you don't get to choose to sit it out, let alone choose a side. I'm sorry, I truly am. I have lost friends, family, my best mate - just try to get some rest." The look on his face had grown gradually less controlled, taking on an almost fierce expression until the end, when his eyes blanked and his shoulders slumped. He silently closed the door behind him.
His sad tone upon concluding his speech made more of an impression than his words had. The Grangers stared at each other for just a moment before they slowly closed the gap and hugged. Before stepping into her dad's arms she caught that look in his eyes. It was not fear, yet she couldn't place that look - but she wouldn't push right now. For now she just wanted to be held. They hadn't hugged like this since she was a little girl and right now all she wanted was to go back to when Daddy could fix anything and Mum...
A whimper escaped her unbidden and her dad began to rub her back and make shushing sounds, just like all those years ago.
They stayed, standing there, until there was a light knock at the door. Even then Jean just held on as her dad turned and opened the door. It was awkward but she simply didn't care. There was a quiet conversation and Jean felt a keen sense of loss as her dad pulled away, resting a rare kiss on her forehead.
"I am going to go get cleaned up, I'll be just down the hall, this lady has some clothes for you to sleep in."
Finally looking up, Jean met the gaze of a gentle-eyed, yet very tired looking young woman wearing the same nurses uniform she remembered from her arrival. She immediately looked for a wand in the woman's hands, but found none. Instead the nurse held only a bundle of clothing. Her dad left with his bundle after giving assurances that he would return right away. The woman turned to go, then paused.
"You look like you're really scared but you shouldn't be. No matter what happens you are safe here. I... I heard, I'm really sorry about your mum." The woman finished, her voice full of genuine grief, she turned away quickly.
Jean could see the young nurse was exhausted and felt bad for the suspicious way she knew she first reacted. "Thanks." she croaked out, her voice raw with emotion and disuse.
Stopping half turned, the young nurse wiped at her eyes before replying. "If you need anything just come down to the kitchen. Someone will be there all night." With that the nurse turned and closed the door behind her, leaving Jean standing in the stinky room, feeling numb.
As if jolted, Jean tossed her night-clothes on the bed and opened the door to find the nurse talking to a very small boy in the doorway across the hall. Jean watched the way the woman soothed the obviously distraught boy, finally taking a small bottle out of her apron and giving the boy a spoonful dose. She led the boy back into his room and shortly returned to the hall.
"Can I help you?" She asked, her smile seemingly forced, she looked close to tears.
"What did you give him?" Jean asked, her voice returning, though she realized too late that her question held all of the suspicion she felt. So much for masking her raw emotions. Her face likely betrayed her feelings as well, which would explain the way the nurse looked at her. She shook her head, now wasn't the time for analysis.
"It is a potion called Dreamless Sleep. With what he has gone through even the House magic can't keep him from having nightmares. Any other questions?" The woman had spoken pleasantly enough, but her whole demeanor declared just how tired, and frustrated, she really was.
"Sorry. I, I didn't mean, it's just..." Jean had no idea what to say. She really didn't know what she was thinking and felt really bad for her tone, as well as her suspicion.
The nurse smiled in return, this time it reached her eyes. "Don't worry about it. Just get some rest."
"Sure, oh, the man - Sirius, he said you might be able to, well, the room stinks." Jean couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Here she was asking a nurse to clean her room after she was rude to her for helping a little boy.
"Oh?" She stepped into the doorway, her nose instantly crinkling in the same way Jean's had. "Do you mind if I use magic? Sirius said you and your father were a bit wand-shy."
"Please?" Jean agreed quickly. Having been in the hallway for just a minute had made the smell seem even worse upon re-entering the room.
Laughing quietly, the nurse pulled a slender light colored wand from her sleeve and pointed it at a few places around the room, mostly under the beds. She seemed to repeat the same word each time, just under her breath, Jean thought it sounded like Latin. Intrigued, she was just getting ready to ask for details when her dad gave a startled gasp from the doorway.
"Please leave." His tone was not quite hostile, but it was sharp enough that the young woman left quickly, giving Jean an apologetic look as she turned down the hall.
"She was just..."
"It's fine, I just want us to go to sleep so we can get an early start." His voice was calm, reasonable even, but Jean knew he was upset.
Moving to the door, she gave her dad a small frown of apology. "I'll go get changed then."
In the hall she found the nurse hadn't made it very far, this time she was down on one knee consoling a little girl. The child couldn't have been more than five, and though she wasn't crying, she did have a very tight grip on the helpful woman. Once again the solution seemed to be a few soothing words, a long hug, and a dose of the potion. When she came back out of the girl's room Jean smiled to show she wasn't upset with her.
"One potion cure-all?" She tried to joke.
The nurse gave a weak smile in return. "For tonight, yes."
Intrigued, and tired of fighting with her restless mind, Jean pressed the woman for more. "What does it do, exactly?"
"It is basically just a sleeping draught. It causes the person to sleep without dreams for about eight hours, depending on dose." She stopped, seeming to regard Jean more closely. "Do you - would you like some, just in case you, you know?"
Jean was about to protest as the nurse held out a small vial, but she was having a hard time trying to stop her mind from trying to sort through everything. She couldn't shake the bizarre new images and sounds and smells which swirled around and around her mind, it was giving her a headache. She knew she would not likely sleep tonight with everything that had happened.
A small voice was heard down the hall and the woman turned, her face anxious. "This has barely a dose left, and I need to go. I'll talk to you tomorrow." With that Jean found herself holding the small glass bottle as she watched the nurse stride quickly down the hall.
She regarded the 'potion' critically, then walked into the bathroom to change and get ready for bed.
. . .
Sirius stood with his back against the stove, the warmth of the oven working up his back and giving him some comfort from the aches that seemed to be coming from every fiber of his being. He listened carefully as the others gave their reports, his own battles detailed as best he could manage when he was sent home from St. Mungo's for the second time.
The pain potions had worn off shortly after he had left the Grangers. He flexed his right hand, his wand hand, and was happy to see he hadn't lost any flexibility, so far. It was a close thing, according to the healers.
He sighed, letting the latest report wash over him, traveling with them through their ordeal in his mind's eye.
The Night of Terror the muggles were calling it. How right they were.
. . .
Earlier that evening in a small home just outside London
(On televisions across Great Britain news bulletins interrupted scheduled programming around 6:30 pm. A phone number flashed slowly at the bottom of the screen and then the picture switched to a somewhat startled looking young woman. She stands in a bright glaring light with the glow of two separate fires burning low in the background.)
"Mellissa Pembroke reporting live from Sutton where yet another series of deadly fires has been reported. Three homes within scant blocks of one another have burned quickly to the ground, and once again the ghastly fireworks have reportedly been seen above all three. Authorities say that they are not sure if the proximity of these homes is somehow important but the fact is that the police seem to have nothing more to go on; no link has been found to connect the over two dozen homes, businesses and apartments that have been torched this deadly Halloween eve."
(Voice over) "Melissa, George here, we were wondering if the police were considering terrorism yet? It doesn't fit, uh… past incidents, and yet with so many attacks how can they still be considering vandals? Also, you mentioned the fireworks have been seen, did anyone manage to get a photo yet?"
"No, George, on all counts. The Police of course are remaining quiet on any detailed response at this time. I just spoke with the Metro Police commander on scene and he would only repeat his call for any information to be immediately reported to the number shown at the bottom of the screen. My sources privately confirm your statement about the inconsistencies with past attacks. Lastly although witnesses at each and every site give the same account of a huge, smoky snake writhing in a skull over the attacks, Polaroids taken by those on the scene are all coming up over-developed. I've heard reports of several regular cameras confiscated by police but no word on if their lab has had better luck than the Polaroids have..."
(Voice over fades into the studio as the on scene reporter is cut off)
"I'm sorry Melissa, we've just had another report, this one from the West End…"
The sound dies as the TV goes dark, the whole house in fact is plunged into shadows. Three people sit holding each other on a couch, their faces cast in stark relief by the faint street light coming through the window.
Behind them, in the hall, a small voice whimpers.
"Anna? What are you doing up?" A masculine voice echoes in the dark as a stocky man rises from the couch. A woman, his wife, rises with him, but another female, the older sister of Anna, sits and stares out the window.
She felt it too.
"Hide, Anna!" She speaks quietly but urgently, and the parents turn to look at her with wide eyes.
"Abby hush! She's scared enough with the dark and the…" Abby doesn't listen, yelling over top of her mother's voice.
"Anna, it's them from the fires on the Telly; Go to yer room and get in the wall, do it Now!"
Anna doesn't move, at least not until the house shudders. Then all hell breaks loose.
It happens in slow motion to Anna, who watches from the darkened hall.
First are the cracking noises, loud, like fireworks, and suddenly there are five dark-cloaked figures standing in their living room. Words are yelled, at first by the new people, but then a horrible scream erupts from Dad and then Abby is screaming too. But Abby is screaming curse words, the worst words Anna has ever heard, and when she screams the cloaked people scream too! One of them flies across the room and smashes into the T.V. and Anna thinks she'll miss Rugrats in the morning - then another man is doing something but Mum jumps - no she… oh…
Then Anna runs. She runs to her room, slips behind her closet door and pulls on the old metal door in a section of original stone wall. It opens with the slightest creak, Abby oiled it last week, and Anna pushes herself into the darkness. She scoots all the way down, into the place that smells musty and is rather cold but is the best hiding place in the house.
She stays there, shivering, long after the shouting. She stays as the air begins to smell like smoke. She stays, terrified and alone until a goblin 'pops' in next to her. It's not the same kind of goblin as in that elf show she watched with Abby, but it has the big ears and it's smaller than her so it must be a goblin. The goblin takes her shaking hand and she is not cold anymore. Just as she hears a strange creaking noise above her the goblin snaps his finger and they are in a new place! "There you are, miss, now go to sleep." The goblin squeaks, and Anna goes to sleep.
.o0o.
Monday, November 1st 1993
The next day Jean awoke in a strange bed wearing strange clothes. The small room she found herself in was faintly lit by an old fashioned gas lamp turned almost all the way down. The faint smell of detergent was the first oddly-familiar thing she noticed. The scent was not quite masked by a fresh fragrance that one of the nurses had produced when she had come in to help her the night before. Produced by a wave of a wand. Produced by magic.
With that thought the whole night came crashing back and Jean practically jumped up to find herself alone. Her dad's bed was made, the tight hospital corners showing that he had done the work himself as opposed to - well she had no idea if these beds made themselves; but that's not what it looked like when they got here last night.
She glanced around the small quarters and found no indication of his belongings, and then she saw the plain cloth robe folded neatly at the foot of the bed, with a small scrap of old-looking paper tucked under it. Jean sat back down hard. She felt paralyzed, somehow knowing that she did not want to read that paper. A quick knock on the door shook her from her quiet terror and she stood quickly, snatching up the paper before turning to the door as the knock was repeated. "Who is it?"
"Hermione, it's Sirius Black, may I come in?"
It was the man from last night. Had he come to tell her about her dad? She had no idea what time it was, though now that she thought about it she hadn't slept that well in quite some time. What was that 'potion' the nurse had given them? "Dreamless Sleep"… it certainly was.
Glancing at her plain sleeping shift she decided to opt for modesty and slipped into her robe. The soft cloth seemed to warm her quickly in the cool room. "Come in."
The disheveled man from the night before had been replaced by a dapper-dressed gentleman. He looked as if he had just stepped out of a Jane Austen novel, though she hardly thought him Mr. Darcy material. The look on his face however stopped her flight of fancy cold. It was about her dad for certain.
"I don't know how to tell you this except to just come out with it. After you went to sleep your father came into the kitchen in a fit. He demanded to know what we had done to you as he could not seem to awaken you. It took a while, however after some questioning we discovered that one of the healers had given you a potion to help you sleep. Your father was livid and made some pretty harsh comments. I finally silenced him to force him to listen to reason. He went completely still when he realized he could no longer speak. When I removed the hex he just turned and went back to your room. I tried speaking with him but it was like talking to a wall.
Hermione... Your father left early this morning. He is apparently a rather clever fellow because nobody thought to put a ward against someone sneaking out the third story window."
The man's tone was serious, upset even, yet Jean couldn't get past the image of her dad shimmying out a window in the middle of the night. What was he doing? He couldn't think… she didn't know what he would be thinking. There was that strange look he kept getting, and the note… The Note!
Turning her back on the man in the doorway, Jean read the note by the scant light coming from the hallway.
"Jean, I will come back but I must get help, we are not going to be a part of their war! These wizards may mean well but they cannot hold us against our will. I Will come back, just stay put and don't go anywhere. Love, Dad"
Her host interrupted any further thoughts on the subject. "He didn't fall, at least there is no sign of his having been injured on the grounds. I know this is a lot to take in but we have people out looking for him…"
It was a lot to take in. Her dad had run out, but she knew he would return. It wasn't what Sirius had said so much as what he had left unsaid. There would be others looking for him as well. Looking for him because of her. As bad as the night before had ended, today didn't look to be starting any better.
"There's nothing more you can do and I'm sure he'll be fine. Please, come downstairs and get some breakfast, you can meet some of the others."
Her stomach loudly proclaimed her feelings about food before she could protest. Embarrassed, she tried to think of a reason to stay in the room and wait. She was dressed inappropriately, that seemed lame, and yet... Looking down at her robe, Jean didn't have to explain her discomfort as Sirius spoke up. "I can help with the clothing. If you'd just think of what you'd like to be wearing and look at me please?"
A moment later Jean stood staring at herself in open mouthed shock. Disappearing chairs was a neat trick. Turning her pajamas and robe into trainers, socks, pants and a jumper was pretty darn impressive.
"Isn't magic cool?" The grin on his face was clearly heard in his voice though Jean declined the offered arm as he led her downstairs to the kitchen. He chatted a bit about the house on the way down the stairs, but Jean's attention was on the wonderful scents wafting up from below. She realized as her stomach spoke again that she had missed supper in the confusion of the previous night. They made their way into the kitchen, yet it was hardly the same room.
"We take our meals in here in shifts. This is the only room not converted into apartments or sleeping quarters. The house is magically expanded as it is, so expanding the rooms within can only be done safely to a limit."
Jean nodded at the information, filing it away even as she took in the cutting board where three knives and a cleaver were dancing through a bin of potatoes, carrots and leeks. One entire wall was taken up by a vast array of containers. The colors and shapes of many of the objects were unknown to her, though there seemed to be a fair number of seeds, roots and flowers. And… eyes… wings… and legs? "Are those…"
"Yes," Sirius cut in, "those are potion ingredients. Sorry, we had to move all the supplies up here. Don't worry though, there's a magical barrier in place to keep anything from getting in or out. The potion lab is still down stairs, I can show you later if you like." Jean balked at the prospect, and he directed her to take a seat.
Sitting down at the table was a lot different from last night. Jean had to squeeze into a spot. It seemed as though a small army of kids were eating at the table - a table that had definitely not been this big last night. Then there was the food. Dishes of eggs and meats, potatoes in every form she had ever seen and breads, jams, rolls, pastries… the selection was boggling.
She began to reach for a bowl of eggs when it slid right to her hand. Freezing in place she saw a girl across from her smiling.
"You get what you want." She said, matter-of-factly, then reached out her hand and an apple tart flew to her hand from down at the end of the table. "Magic." The girl grinned.
Jean couldn't help but grin back, and scooped up a heap of eggs, smiling widely as she snatched the toast she had 'ordered' out of the air. Her stomach growled in approval.
"I'm Anna, are you the oldest one?"
The question caught Jean off guard. The girl appeared to be around five or six, and looking about the table she realized that she was obviously the oldest by at least a year or two, even though she was small for her age. Shrugging, Jean looked back to Anna. "Pleased to make your acquaintance Anna, my name is Jean. As to your question, I don't actually know, I just got here last night." Glancing over her shoulder she found Sirius had departed so she had no source for an answer anywhere in sight.
"All of us just got here last night silly." The young girl stated in her no-nonsense way, and went back to eating her tart.
Jean didn't know what else to say, or what was safe to ask, so she returned to her breakfast. Distracted by the swirl of questions and concerns that just seemed to be growing every moment, she only ate a few bites before some room opened up on the benches. As the kids around her finished and left the kitchen, their plates were floated to the sink by an older red headed woman that Jean remembered vaguely from last night.
The way all these children were sitting around so calmly, just eating, no horseplay or talking, kind of creeped Jean out. Then something occurred to her after the fourth or fifth small child quietly got up and left the room. Every one of these kids was eating without an adult. She suddenly lost her appetite as her worries echoed in her head.
Jean slammed the lid on the thoughts of what might be happening with her dad. 'I am not an orphan!' she declared to herself. The dark voice of doubt only added one word. 'Yet.'
Standing, she tried not to be wowed by her floating dishes. She caught the eye of the red head doing the… well, conducting the dish washing. She seemed to be frowning at Jean, and directed a sharp glance to her uneaten eggs and toast. Perhaps wasting food was a major no-no? There was food on some of the other kids' plates. The woman cleared up the confusion quickly enough by coming over and introducing herself.
"Hello dear, I'm Molly and I'm sorry for whatever you've been through, but not eating is no way to keep your health and you will need your health and energy in the days to come… And if I may say you are such a small thing to start with, you can't afford to skip any meals, so keep that in mind, ok? Alright dear, now run along." The woman finished with a bright smile and bustled back to the dishes.
Jean found that she somehow had a piece of toast in her hand.
The only thing that stuck in Jean's mind was how the woman had said all of that in one breath. She was saved from stifling a smile by the sharp, barking laughter of her host. It seemed that Sirius had returned in time for, and was quite amused by Molly's short speech.
"Molly, my dear, don't ever change!" Sirius barked out a harsh laugh and winked at Jean.
"Sirius Black, I am not your 'dear'." The woman's abrupt response was only tempered slightly by her tone, not quite angry, but not exactly teasing either. "You take care of that little one or Minerva will skin you and make a rug out of your flea-bitten hide." With that she turned to the table once more. The remaining children had dwindled until only a few of the more portly kids remained. Molly seemed to have decided that they had had enough as she shooed them from their unfinished plates. Wasting food was definitely not the issue.
"Lets escape while the gettins good." Sirius mock whispered. His fake conspiratorial attitude was hard not to smile at. "I have it on good authority you will like the third stop of our tour, but first we have to make introductions." Jean was already being guided out the back door.
. . .
Sirius stood in front of the crowd of children and few adults. He tried to focus his thoughts on how these people were going to be alright. They would make it. As he looked over the remnants of almost thirty different families he could not help but think of the dozens that they could not save.
.o0o.
It was surreal, as so much of the last day had been. Jean sat and watched as one by one the forty or so children and eight adults introduced themselves to the best of their abilities. None of them outright cried, although emotions were obviously high as one after another clearly stated that they lost their parents the night before.
When Anna's turn came she calmly announced that her sister had killed three of the 'boogey men' before they got her. Nobody cheered, and yet nobody cried either. Each of them were spared from the attack either by intervention of some sort or by their own accidental magic. Sirius merely guided them away from talking about killing, and towards how they were now safe.
When Jean's turn arrived she actually felt somewhat guilty that her escape was not nearly as dramatic as many of theirs had been. This caused her to wonder once again what her dad was up to. She thought a moment about praying for him, but the revelations of magic had done nothing for her struggling faith. Jean haltingly spoke the plea anyways. Pride and logic were worthless when your dad was in danger.
When Sirius had insisted that she introduce herself as Hermione she balked. He reasoned that it was the name that had been magically recorded, an argument that didn't really impress her. When he pointed out he was named after the dog-star, and then methodically listed off over twenty-some ridiculous sounding names of classmates from his school years – interjecting choice commentary as he went – she relented.
"But just for this, I still want to be called Jean." She had insisted.
None of the kids laughed at her name. Then again, none of the kids laughed at the unfortunate boy named Gropnik Hectabet...
After the bafflingly reserved introductory time, Sirius had introduced a few adults including three nurses, Molly Weasley and her son Bill (who many of the children seemed to know somehow). He then went over a few rules which mostly seemed to be about not going downstairs, staying out of the kitchen until meal time, what time meals were and not going downstairs.
Sirius had then escorted her on the 'tour'. This consisted of the three common areas of the house: number one was the kitchen, two the garden out back, and three the massive library-turned-dormitory which had Jean wide eyed.
They were currently sitting in the library entry-way in one of the few remaining squashy chairs. He had turned Jean's so she couldn't see the books and she felt an almost overwhelming urge to stick her tongue out at him. She settled for giving him a glare that seemingly had no effect on his good cheer.
Sirius then explained that a vestige of the Black Family magic was in effect. "My family truly believed that old motto, 'children should be seen, not heard'. They wove enchantments into the House Magic itself that keeps young ones from expressing themselves in more than polite requests. It's not ideal, and certainly not helping them heal, but you only met one of the groups living here; we have eighty three people living in this house right now. The adults have been instructed not to get emotional around the children and as a precaution they are regularly hit with cheering charms. The real threat of accidental magic released by emotional outbursts makes this the default safe-house for the orphans and the younger, more unstable kids."
Jean was somewhere between boggling at the sheer numbers mentioned, boggling at the idea of magical fields repressing emotions and being insulted at the insinuation his last comment made. "I'm not…"
Once again she was cut off, "I know you are not unstable, although you should ask McGonagall to tell you the stories of how many times your house was repaired before you get too peevish. She's the reason you're here - do you remember ever being visited by a witch?"
From the way Sirius asked the question Jean could tell he was only asking rhetorically; he was floored by her quick response.
"Of course I remember the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Floored might be an understatement. If only she knew what an accomplishment she had achieved – Sirius Black sat before her gaping like a fish, opening and closing his mouth, unable to get words to form.
"Was I not supposed to remember that?" Jean tried to go for innocent in her reply, but ultimately that's what snapped Sirius from his stupor. He easily read her false tone and realized that he had been played.
"You knew? You not only remember, but you knew you were supposed to forget?" His tone was actually kind of frightening to Jean. It wasn't so much the accusation as the awe. This big powerful wizard seemed shaken by her revelation.
"Is that… a big deal?" This time she really was asking innocently, and not just a little fearfully.
"A big deal?" He smiled, then continued, "Hermione, it's huge. It's not been done before… Minerva McGonagall may dislike that spell, but she's very much a stickler for following procedures." The smile he gave her brought some relief to Jean's fears, but his ominous words made her stop short of relaxing.
"Is that so, my Lord Black." The voice from the hallway brought Sirius up short and he turned in his chair to find the witch being discussed staring at him rather pointedly. "And just what procedure am I supposed to have not stuck to?"
Standing abruptly, he motioned for the older woman to join them. As he turned back to Jean, Sirius's expression went from chastised to predatory in a flash, and before the older witch could detect the change, the 'Lord' standing in front of Jean gave his answer in a cheery, sing-song voice. "Hermione Granger, I would introduce you to the Professor who has intruded upon our conversation, but I don't think that will be necessary, do you?" Shooting another wink at Jean, he turned back to his prey, his voice accusatory and yet still cheerful. "She remembers you, and even remembers that you tried to make her forget."
"Both times." Jean added, which only caused Sirius to whip back around, then return his stare to his new guest.
"Twice?" he seemed to inquire to either or both.
"Mm-hmm" was Jean's answer. "I'm afraid so." was McGonagall's simultaneous, and much less enthusiastic reply.
Sirius only whistled in response. Then, with a spring in his step, he walked out of the room. "Seems you two have much to discuss. I have business to attend to, I'll be back by supper." The Lord Black made a most un-Lordly exit from the company of ladies as he trotted down the hall, giggling.
With that the two witches were left staring at one another for a full thirty seconds before the elder one cleared her throat.
"Yes, well, let's talk about these memories you have then, shall we?"
.o0o.
A/N: That's all, for now, we're already past the longest chapter thus far. I haven't heard any complaints about chapter size :)
The bit of action is to make it clear how bad things are on the outside. The rest, including a more detailed view of the conflict as well as Hermione's decision, will come in the next chapter.
A huge thanks to those of you who have posted reviews of chapters 1-5, they keep me up on how you feel about the story, or if anyone's even out there reading ;)
So thank you to SmolderingJade, muggledad, nikyta, Thirst4light, NA, saris305, Sydell, WhenTheWorldEnded, arabellagrace, Rubbya Maac'SSIS, twilliams1797, Emmet .Jasper .Carlisle and Frutality as well as the various flavors of Guest and Anonymous.
Recommended reading is Bearings by MattD12027. This excellent fic is M rated for a reason, so, be careful little eyes.
Blessings,
Majerus