For the Want of a Horse-shoe Nail

by Rico Perrien

A prophecy is made, and another discreditted. This changes everything. Seriously AU

2. Epiphanies

For the Want of a Horse-shoe Nail

For the want of a nail, the shoe was lost

For the want of a shoe the horse was lost

For the want of the horse, the rider was lost

For the want of the rider, the battle was lost

For the want of the battle, the kingdom was lost

And all for the want of a horse-shoe nail

Disclaimer: I own the rights to nothing of the Harry Potter stories, movies, merchandise, sexy underwear, or other paraphernalia, which are owned by J.K. Rowling and her associates – I am definitely not her, nor them. I have written this for my own entertainment and hopeful the amusement of some others as well. I have invented some characters of my own, so any blame for those does rest with me. Absolutely no money being made in any fashion at any time from this exercise in ravings of a lunatic.

Rating: T. Seriously AU. Warning, some character deaths, some character bashing. Horcruxes

Chapter 2: Epiphanies

Hallowe'en 1991

A young witch sat on a toilet in the fourth floor girls' washroom. She was not using the porcelain structure for its usual purposes, but only as a chair to sit on while she sat and wept her eyes out.

She had had great hopes for this place. Hogwarts would be a place where she would finally fit in, and all the strange occurrences around her would be considered normal. Instead, it was even worse than her non-magical school. There she was teased because of her bookishness, her untameable hair and her busk teeth. Here, in the school of magic, she was also despised because of her non-magical (aka muggle) birth, and there were many who declaimed very loudly that she not only had no right to magic, but no right to exist!

She had been assaulted, and this day, even one of her own House that she had thought a potential friend had been saying nasty things about her intelligence, and her need to know everything. She had been able to do something he could not, and she tried to help. He did not take her unwanted help well, and had lashed out.

When she had come to Hogwarts, the first year students were told that their Houses would be like their families. The way she was being rejected even by her own, she felt like she was an orphan. At least in the muggle world, she had her mother and father.

She hated this place. Her Head of House, who was supposed to be her advocate and support, was a stern Scottish witch, who seemed more concerned with appearing regal than being of any help in any way.

As she was wallowing in her despair, she heard grunting sounds and smelled a terrible stench. She looked out of her cabinet, and saw a horror. At the entrance to the washroom stood a troll, at least four metres tall, looking around with a puzzled and angry expression. In its hand was a large club.

The troll looked at the porcelain sinks lining the one wall, and the toilet stalls along the other and started swinging the club. The girl screamed, but the troll paid her little attention and continued smashing the toilet cabinets. As the girl fled her own stall, she tripped and fell to the floor. She was hit by flying shards of broken porcelain on her face and her legs, which were now exposed as her skirt rode up in her fall. Fortunately for her, her school robe and other clothing took the brunch of the spray of sharp fragments.

Having smashed three of the stalls, the troll took its club and smashed a hole in the floor of the middle stall. It then turned and sat down over the hole. Grunts and intestinal sounds followed this action, and the troll took on a relieved facial expression. As it had sat down, it had whipped off its loincloth, and the young witch could clearly see that the troll was female.

Hermione drew out her wand, and started to aim it at the troll. The creature saw the wand and started to whimper. It said, "No hurt Marshy. Marshy not hurt pinky. Not want hurt pinky. Pinky put down stick?"

Hermione was puzzled. She had been told that trolls were dumb beasts who had no power of speech, but she had clearly heard this troll speak.

"What do you mean by pinky?", as she lowered her wand, to the troll's obvious relief.

The troll pointed at Hermione. "Pinky." She (for it was female) pointed to herself, and said "Browny. Some pinkies brown too. Marshy not know brown pinkies, but Marshy see in fields by stone house."

Hermione asked "You say you don't want to hurt me, but you smashed up the room and almost killed me!"

The troll shook her head. "No want hurt girl pinky. Bad man pinky with stick make Marshy come in stone house. Scare Marshy. Marshy need do, need do right away. Scared bad! Marshy make hole for do," pointing at the floor where she sat. "Most times, Marshy do in forest, like bears." The troll started to laugh at her joke.

Hermione thought for a moment. The stone house apparently was the Hogwarts castle. "Your name is Marshy?" The troll nodded happily. "My name is Hermione."

The troll pointed at herself "Marshy." She then pointed at the young witch "My-ee!" The troll smiled "My-ee nice to Marshy. Not point stick. My-ee help Marshy go forest?"

Before Hermione could answer, two of her housemates burst into the room. The leader, one Harry Potter, stopped suddenly as he saw the troll, causing Ron Weasley to run into him from behind. Ron took a look at the troll sitting on the floor, and lost control of his bowels.

The troll laughed out loud "Boy pinky do in pants! In stone house, not in forest with bears. Ho, ho, ho." Hermione looked disgusted at the revelation that potty humour transcends species.

Harry looked at Hermione in surprise "That troll is talking. We were told trolls couldn't talk."

Hermione looked at her classmate, who apparently had come to rescue her from certain death, and shook her head. "Harry, they lied to us. Trolls can talk. This is Marshy. She says a bad wizard made her come into the castle, and she just wants to go home.

The troll looked at Harry, and pointed to him "A-ri?"

Harry nodded. He pointed at himself, then at is other companion, and then at the troll. "Harry, Ron, Marshy. Yes?" The troll smiled and nodded. She pointed at Harry, "A-ri", then to Hermione, "My-ee. My-ee nice to Marshy!"

At this point in the confusion, Professor McGonagall burst into the room, wand drawn ready for battle. Hermione leapt in front of Marshy, who was cowering at the sight of the wand. "Professor, no! She doesn't want to hurt anyone. She just wants to go home."

McGonagall was shocked. "What do you mean, Miss Granger? You are trying to tell me this fully-grown mountain troll doesn't want to hurt us?" Looking at Hermione's wounds from the broken crockery, she asked "How badly did she hurt you?"

Hermione shook her head. "I got hit by pieces of the broken sinks and toilets. Marshy didn't attack me at all. She was frightened, and needed to go to the bathroom."

McGonagall's cat senses on full alert, she could smell that Hermione was not frightened, but the troll (a very different smell) was terrified at the sight of her wand.

The troll looked at the professor. "Marshy no hurt. Marshy not big troll. Mummy, Daddy, big trolls. Marshy little!"

McGonagall was completely non-plussed. Everything she had been told about trolls seemed to be evaporating. This four metre tall troll was speaking, and what was more, telling her that she (the troll) was small. How big must a fully grown troll be? Realizing that she had met only a few people who had actually encountered trolls, except under unusual conditions, she lowered her wand, to the troll's visible relief.

At this point, professors Snape and Dumbledore rushed into the room. Seeing the troll, they both immediately fired high powered stunners at the creature. Hermione rushed up to them screaming that they shouldn't hurt the troll. Marshy collapsed against the wall and slid down to the floor.

Snape looked at her, and sneered "You stupid little girl, you could have been killed! You don't know anything about these dumb beasts. They are extremely dangerous." Looking at Harry and Ron, he sneered again. "Three Gryffindors. I should have known. It's bad enough I have to try teach these three idiots, but now they want us to believe this garbage. Bah!", and swept out of the bathroom

Dumbledore, looked at the stunned creature, and said "I'll have Hagrid dispose of the body." Hermione looked at the man she had respected so highly up until that moment, and asked, "Please Professor, can you have the body put out by the edge of the forest?"

The headmaster nodded. "Good idea, let the crows and wolves clean it up", and turned leaving the room.

Hermione ran over to Marshy's body, and felt for a pulse. She felt a slight beating of the creature's heart, and looked at Professor McGonagall in hope. The elder witch came over and checked as well. "I think she is just stunned. She must be a very strong lass – those were nasty spells they cast! If what she said is true, I am rather glad. If this is only a little troll, and if she had been killed, I wouldn't want to think about what her parents would do to us all for killing their little girl. I know what I would want to do, if it were me. I'll see that Hagrid puts her out near where the forest comes to the edge of the mountains, and see if he can get a message to her family."

Suddenly, as the shock and adrenalin of the experience left her, Hermione fainted.

Hermione woke in a bed which was not her own. She found that other than a hospital gown, which implied that she was in the infirmary, she was undressed. She was aware that there seemed that she was wearing something 'lower down'.

"Ah, good. You're awake."

Hermione turned to see Madame Pomfrey sitting in a chair beside the bed she was in. The medi-witch helped her sit up, and then handed her a beaker of a potion. "Drink up."

Hermione took the beaker and drank the contents. To her surprise, it tasted on some citrus fruit. She handed the empty beaker back to the nurse and was about to ask what was happening, when the matron smiled and said, "My girl, welcome to being a woman."

Hermione shook her head in confusion, and said something brilliant. "What?"

Madame Pomfrey laughed. "Surely your mother told you this would happen eventually. We hold a class on the processes of growing up in December of your first year, when people are a bit more comfortable with their surroundings and more able to cope with information which can be a little personally embarrassing, but you're a bit older than your classmates, and you beat us to it. Tell me, besides the usual crap that goes on here, have you been a bit out of sorts the last couple days, moody and having some abdominal cramps?"

Hermione nodded. "But the cramps are gone, and I feel okay." She looked at the empty beaker in the nurse's hand.

Pomfrey nodded. "It's called 'Potion M', and you can get it at the school commissary, wherever you need it. Helps with the cramps. Also, while you are there, when you need what are euphemistically called 'hygiene products', just asked for Poppy's Stuff. We have to keep them in a back room, otherwise the damned pure-bloods get really upset. Stupid fools. Not only do they want to feel superior by not using muggle-made products, they don't want anyone else to use them either, particularly if they make life more convenient for the witches while the wizards continue to do what they please, and prevent someone who getting the revolutionary idea that the pure-bloods aren't the be-all-and-end-all of existence. Bloody idiots and hypocrites."

Hermione was shocked at the nurse's lack of 'respect' for the high-and-mighty types (or as she thought of them, 'Legends In Their Own Minds'), but then her bookwormishness came to the fore. "What do the pure-blood girls use, then?"

Poppy smiled. "Well, some do use stuff that has been invented within the last century; they just don't tell others about it. The others wear self-scourgifying undies. Not the best idea because as they dry up all fluids including the water content of their bodies' cells; they tend to chafe rather badly."

Hermione asked, "Wouldn't they, I guess I mean we, just come to you for the potions?"

The nurse laughed. "Miss Granger, there are around three hundred students in this school, and half are young women. Of those, probably 80 percent or more have gone through puberty. I wouldn't have enough hours in the day to pass out stuff that is not a controlled substance to about a hundred and twenty cranky girls!"

Getting back to why she had woken up in the hospital wing, Hermione asked, "Why am I here? Last thing I remember, I was talking to a little girl troll, the Headmaster and Professor Snape stunned her, and then I was talking to Professor McGonagall."

The medi-witch nodded. "You were perhaps lucky. Your friend, Mr. Potter, caught you as you fainted, otherwise you could have cracked your head on the floor. Stone buildings are not conducive to soft landings. I would have needed much stronger potions for you then, for a cracked skull."

Something twigged in Hermione's mind. "That potion you gave me. It tasted good, really good. Every other potion I have heard of, when Harry gets hurt for example, tastes horrible. What's the difference?"

"It was tangerine, a personal favourite of mine". Poppy Pomfrey looked a bit sad. "Ah, Miss Granger, one problem we humans have, all humans, not just magicals or muggles, is our ability to become addicted to things. Call them bad habits if you will. Around here, we have some very powerful pain-killing potions, with all the injuries from children running around on stone floors, or people playing quidditch. Bloody stupid game. I spend more of my time patching up injuries from that."

"I am personally convinced that the game is just another way the pure-bloods try to prove their superiority over the muggle-borns."

Hermione smiled a little. "I have to agree with you about the obsession with quidditch. If it wasn't for friends playing, I wouldn't much care for it. I was never much for sports anyway though, and I don't really like flying – I have a bit of vertigo, I think. It's worst when I'm on those stupid moving staircases – the first week here, I almost threw up every time I was on them. How do you mean about quidditch being a superiority thing?"

Madame Pomfrey nodded. "Miss Granger, I think that this is part of your growing up – seeing behind the obvious. You have to remember that most magical kids have been on brooms since they were in diapers. Other than your friend Mr. Potter, who flies like he was born on a broom, most of the injuries I see are muggle-born kids trying to compete with the skills of others who have been flying for at least a decade. Some, like your housemate Miss Bell, can outfly the best of them, but the injury rate is unacceptably high. Sometimes I feel like I am wasting my time and training on what is in essence self-inflicted damage. And by the way, if it makes you feel less left out, I don't care for flying on a broom either – first time up on one, I got slivers in my backside."

"Anyway, to really answer your question, it is far too easy to get addicted to strong pain-killing potions. In muggle society, as you know, they have a real problem with drug addictions. It is standard practice in the healing profession to make the strongest potions taste awful, and the very strongest one have an additive that makes you sick as a dog if you take too much. Even with these precautions, you do get some – pitiful creatures who will do anything, anything, for another dose."

Hermione looked down at her gown covered body. "Where are my clothes?"

Poppy looked into the air, and called "Tashy!" A small creature with big eyes and floppy ears appeared next to her, and asked "Yes Mistress Pomfee?"

Poppy smiled, and said "Thank you for coming so promptly. Are Miss Granger's clothes ready for her?" The creature nodded and disappeared, reappearing a moment later with Hermione's clothing neatly folded.

In her surprise, Hermione thanked the creature, who smiled, handed the clothes to the girl, and then disappeared. She turned to Madame Pomfrey and asked, "What the hell on God's Green Earth was that thing?"

The nurse burst out laughing. "Ah, Miss Granger, I take it you have not been introduced to the castle's elves yet. Specifically, Tashy is a house elf, as opposed to the wood elves. She is one of the staff who look after this place. Sometimes I think we humans are just visitors they keep around to make messes for them to clean up – they love to clean and work, it seems. Who did you think cleans up, cooks, and takes care of your laundry?"

Hermione shook her head. "I guess that, with everything so new to me here, I never thought to ask. But why was my clothing taken away?"

Madame Pomfrey said, "When you encountered the troll, it smashed up the sinks and toilets, didn't it?"

Hermione nodded, and then said by way of correction, "She. Not it."

Poppy smiled as she nodded. "She, then. As you prefer. You were hit by shards of porcelain, which is very sharp, and your legs and face were badly cut which is why you are here with me. Your clothes had hundreds of shards embedded in them, and if they had not been removed, you would have had to throw those clothes away, or be badly scratched every time you wore them. The elves spent the last couple hours removing the sharp bits. But you're ready to go now."

Hermione paused and looked downwards towards her abdomen. "Ah?"

Poppy smiled. "We talked about that, didn't we. If you would like to chat about options, I would be happy to help. Now, Professor McGonagall wants to see you as soon as you feel up to it. She indicated it was most important, so scoot."

As Hermione left the infirmary, her mind was disturbed by what she had heard. The school's medi-witch was apparently less than happy about many aspects of their world, and more importantly, the school environment and the tyranny of the pure-blood factions. Hermione recalled a letter she had received over the summer, which indicated that she did have other options besides Hogwarts.

On her way to Professor McGonagall's office, she was forcefully reminded of why she hated certain parts of her life as a witch.

"I see the mudblood doesn't have her friends any more. I guess even Scarhead and the blood-traitor can't stand someone who hangs out with trolls."

Draco Malfoy laughed at what passed for a witticism. At his side, Pansy Parkinson also laughed and added, "Maybe she was trying to get a date. Or maybe she thinks she's too ugly even for a troll."

Gregory Goyle grunted. "Naw, she probably thinks she's too pretty, even with her buck teeth and crazy hair. Maybe we should help her out with that." With that, he and Crabbe grabbed Hermione's arms, and then Goyle grabbed her hair and pulled on it hard.

Parkinson stepped forward swinging her arm up. In her hand, Hermione saw a sock which seemed to be loaded with something. Her father had told her of a standard thug's weapon of a sock full of sand which could be dumped out quickly eliminating the evidence, and Pansy's sock looked like what he had told her about.

Hermione also remembered what her father had told her when she was growing up and being bullied at school. He has said, "In the army, we were taught that you can't always win, but you can always make sure they had to pay for anything they got. Make sure that if they are going to hurt you, they get hurt worse." He had shown her a few techniques to assist in this endeavour.

As Goyle pulled her hair, Hermione turned slightly and kicked. Instinctively, Goyle bent his leg to protect his crotch, which Hermione was taught to expect. The tip of Hermione's shoe drove into the side of his leg between his ham and quad muscles, causing a massive cramp. Crying out, he let go of her hair and fell to the floor crying.

Seeing this happen, Crabbe pulled on her arm to pull her off balance. She stepped back, driving the edge of her shoe down his shin, and stomping on his instep breaking several bones.

Draco fell back. Being the bully he was, he never expected a counter-attack, particularly when outnumbered four to one.

Seemingly out of nowhere, something flew out of a dark corner of the hallway, hitting Pansy's forearm which bent in two with a sharp crack. She screamed at the sudden pain. The 'thing' twisted, and hit Draco, breaking his nose, and then proceeded to hit Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle around the head, bloodying them impressively. The object's attack halted, when Hermione heard Professor McGonagall's voice yell "Stupify totas! Kassandrakos".

Hermione's four attackers froze, and looked at each other in horror. They knew the first charm, but had never heard the second. They had no idea what the Professor had done to them.

McGonagall walked up to Hermione and said "Poppy said she had sent you down to see me, and you were taking longer than you should. I decided to see what kept you." She then looked into space and called "Froofy!"

A house elf popped into view. McGonagall smiled at the elf, and ordered "Can you please tell Prefect Weasley that his presence is required?" The elf nodded and disappeared.

Percy Weasley soon ran up to the small group. McGonagall turned and said "Mr. Weasley, please escort these four to the infirmary. And please tell Madame Pomfrey to leave them something to remember the evening by."

Weasley looked at his Head of House with a nasty grin. "I assume the 'nice summer' treatment, Professor?" McGonagall nodded.

Before the four were led away, McGonagall turned to the four Slytherins. She looked at Malfoy, and said "Before you start whining about 'When my father hears about this', remember the embarrassment you will cause him when he hears that you and your three stooges were bested by a muggle-born, and a girl no less. Also remember, the house elves are under my control, and they can move freely through the castle. No ward around your dormitories can stop them. Now, get out of my sight!"

The elderly professor then looked down the hall, and said "Accio Bat". A large wooden paddle flew into her hand, along with two small winged creatures, who did not seem appreciative of being awakened early. McGonagall handed the paddle to Weasley and said, "Please pass this to your brother Fred. He said that one of the team's bats was missing from the Quidditch locker today." She then petted the heads of the two little beasts, apologised for disturbing them, and tossed them into the air where they took flight and returned to wherever they had come from.

Looking at each other, together the Professor and the Prefect declaimed "Gryffindors look after Gryffindors!" as if giving a battle cry (quietly), and the young man took his wand and marched the four Slytherins off in a direction which was not the direct route to the infirmary.

Hermione turned to the elder witch and asked, "What did you two mean, 'the nice summer'? And what did you mean, some thing to remember the evening by?"

Minerva McGonagall smiled at the younger witch, and said "There is an old saying. 'He had a nice summer, but a terrible fall'. Sort of a House code between myself and the senior Gryffs. The people Mr. Weasley is escorting will arrive at their destination, but they are not likely to appreciate the assistance getting there. It is a term for making sure that your enemies do not enjoy their journey. The way this place has become over the last few years, we need to look out for our own, of which you are one of our newest charges. The remembering meant that they will have bruises and scars which won't go away for a long time. Mr. Malfoy will have his imperfect nose until he has some additional surgery – he will probably snore a lot, which will help reduce his popularity in his dorms."

She looked toward the retreating form of Percy Weasley and sighed. "He is a hopeless prig, but very efficient, and very smart. All told, a useful fellow to have around."

"Now, Miss Granger, shall we proceed to my office? You and I have some rather important matters to discuss."

As she sat drinking the tea (the universal cure-all to the British) which Professor McGonagall had offered once they got to her office, the shock of the day came back to Hermione, and she started to cry again. As she wept, however, she saw the professor cast some unknown spells around the room. After a few minutes of this, Hermione's native curiosity won out over her upset state, and she stopped crying as she asked what was happening.

McGonagall hushed the young witch, and continued for a moment longer. Then she stopped, and said, "That should do it."

The elder witch sat down at her desk, and sipped her own tea. She then reached into her desk and pulled out a bottle of amber liquid. She poured a bit into her own tea, and some into Hermione's. Hermione smelled the aroma of brandy, which her parents sometimes added to their own tea. She was a bit stunned that the professor was giving her some 'medicinal alcohol', and came to understand that this was to be a very important meeting.

McGonagall began with, "Miss Granger, what we are about to discuss must not leave this room. I just cast several layers of privacy and silencing charms, to make sure nothing can be heard outside the door, but you also need to recognise the need for secrecy."

Hermione was, to say the least, puzzled by this statement. Serious talk after being attacked, booze in her tea, and secrecy requirements. Most odd.

The professor leaned back in her chair and sighed, and Hermione thought her teacher looked very old at that moment.

The elder witch began again. "Miss Granger, I believe I should start by relating a meeting I had this last summer. As you may or may not know, there is an annual convention of witches involved in teaching at various schools around the world. With our society's reluctance to incorporate new information, techniques and methods into our curricula, this is for the most part, a gathering to bitch about the worst students of the past year, as well as all the patriarchal crap we have to put up with. However, some things do get accomplished, including sharing of new spells and such. There is a lot of just meeting with old friends and chatting."

"However, this year, I had a very interesting meeting with Olympe Maxime, who is the Headmistress of Beauxbatons Academy in southern France. I was given to understand that she had sent you an invitation letter to attend Beauxbatons, if you chose not to attend Hogwarts. I gather that, from your family's holidays in France, you can speak and understand the language sufficiently to attend school in that language. Personally, I was glad you chose Hogwarts. But…."

At this point, the teacher sighed, and passed a sealed envelope to the younger witch. The envelope bore the seal of the Academie des Beauxbatons, as had the letter she received during the previous summer. It was addressed to Hermione herself.

McGonagall continued, sadly. "Hermione, by my receipt of this letter and the similar one addressed to myself, I am informed that it is now imperative that you leave Hogwarts at this point. Although human seers and clairvoyants are rare and seem to run in only a few families, among the centaurs divination is a precise science. Well, as precise as seeing the future can be. I have confirmed with the centaurs of the forbidden forest what those of the Broceliande Forest told Olympe, and they all agree. Quite emphatically, I might add. I have encountered only a few seers among our own kind, and with rare exceptions they are frauds and charlatans. However, I have never known the centaurs to be mistaken. Privately, I do wish it were otherwise."

"I have been told that there are cosmic forces at work in this, and that you must leave Hogwarts so that the future will turn out well, for all our peoples. Madame Maxime has indicated that the centaurs have gone as far as guaranteeing your tuition at Beauxbatons, or any other school of magic you wish to attend, as long as it is not here, not now. Apparently, this cusp in the flux of magic requires you to be elsewhere for about two and a half or three years – I gather three would be better to let the massive changes in our society calm down."

Hermione was shocked at this statement. "But how can I be that important? I just started learning magic. I don't know that much that could possibly cause any significant change."

McGonagall nodded. "Not to malign your native abilities, which are significant, but those were my thoughts as well. However, it was explained to me that your presence here at Hogwarts would be a focal point for the forces of magic, and would prevent some things happening which apparently must happen to prevent a complete collapse of the magical world as we know it. I must confess, Olympe showed me the divination calculations, and frankly they are beyond me. She is convinced they are solid."

"Now, I was told that the triggering event for this all was to be your encounter with an unknown entity, who would not be at all what you had been told. This revelation was to demonstrate to you some serious flaws in our society, and in the beliefs and assumptions that are pivotal to the way that British magical society works. I must assume, given I just received that letter which I gave you, carried by an extremely tired owl I must add, that your encounter with the troll was that event."

Hermione shook her head. "How would my meeting Marshy change our world?"

McGonagall nodded sadly. "You had been told that trolls were dumb beasts who could not speak or understand, and that they were deadly threats to all humans. You found that at least one troll was essentially a scared little girl. You found that what you had been told, as a fundamental understanding of the magical world, was a lie. But a lie widely believed by those who don't want to find that they are wrong. What happened when the Headmaster and Professor Snape entered the room?"

Hermione teared up as she recalled, "They stunned her, even though I tried to stop them. And they didn't even bother to check if she was alive, figuring she was dead. And the Headmaster just wanted to dump her body by the forest for scavengers. They didn't care in the least."

The professor nodded sadly. "They saw a troll which they had been told, for their entire lives, was a dangerous creature who killed and ate humans. They were firm in their belief that this was the case, and that the troll they had stunned, and possibly killed, was unworthy of further consideration. They were willfully blind to something that might change their prejudices."

"Miss Granger, I have been teaching here for the better part of forty years, and have seen all forms of lack of knowledge. Ignorance is no shame, as it is just a lack of information. Stupidity, on the other hand, is the intentional refusal to use the knowledge or intelligence you already have."

"Now, I don't know precisely why your presence here would impede the changes which seem to be necessary, but I cannot dispute that you have been a party to an event which shows a serious flaw in our understanding of our world. I gather things are going to change, and it is going to be very messy, and you need to be elsewhere for these things to happen."

"I don't know whether you are aware of it, but there is a standing policy of the Ministry of Magic that if a muggle-born student chooses not to attend Hogwarts, or quits Hogwarts, she (in your case) and her entire family are obliviated so they don't retain any knowledge of the magical world. Apparently, the thought that someone might choose to attend a different magical school, someplace else, never crosses their small minds. Perhaps this is one of those things that is supposed to change. Be that as it may, I have been informed that arrangements have been made to prevent your family (or yourself for that matter) from being so treated."

"So, Miss Granger, I believe it is time for you to leave us. I have enjoyed being your teacher, and will miss you. I would appreciate a letter every now and then, and I must add that the next witch-teachers convention will be held in the south of France, so I may see you there. Now, you need to pack your things and let your family know the situation. I have been given a portkey for your use if you wish to go to Beauxbatons. If you want to attend Salem in America, Uluru School in Australia, the Rarotonga Academy in the Cook Islands, or others, I will need to arrange transportation. I am told that you need to be gone by the middle of November."

Hermione grimaced. "What about Malfoy's bunch? I would expect that they are going to come after me, looking for vengeance."

McGonagall laughed gently. "You heard the 'Kassandrakos' charm I put on them? It's an old Greek curse, actually mentioned obliquely in the Iliad by Homer. They will be able to speak the truth, but no one will believe a thing they say. I think they will find that Malfoy's influence in his house will evaporate very quickly, because all his claims of my involvement, and the attack on you, will be taken as so many lies by his housemates. Especially when the rumour gets around that they tried to attack a single muggle-born Gryffindor and she single-handedly kicked their collective butts."

Hermione smiled. "But Professor, I didn't, as you say, 'kick their butts'."

McGonagall smiled. "Ah, but that will be the rumour that is going around the castle by morning. You probably are unaware what terrible gossips house elves are. Even if I have to order them to do it."