Disclaimer: The probability that I am JK Rowling is within epsilon of 0%.

Part of this chapter has been quoted from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.

A/N: I realise that it might be unrealistic for Hermione's parents to let her keep going back to Hogwarts. But that's what the plot demands, and I'm trying to make it as realistic as possible without going JK Rowling's route of her not telling them anything. I know it's a hard sell and will get harder, but as Hermione learns more magic to protect herself, her forceful personality will be able to come out more to make up for it.

Chapter 41

"Sirius Black?" Dan Granger said as they watched the BBC bulletin from their hotel in Paris. "That's a strange name."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. Some people just had weird names.

"It sounds kind of like a wizard-type name. Does it sound familiar to you?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "No, I don't think so. It's probably just a coincidence. There's so few wizards, after all."

"I don't know," Emma said. "They didn't really say where Black escaped from. You'd think they would if they could."

"Hmm…" Hermione said. The logic was sound, although the sheer numbers still made it unlikely in her mind. With muggles outnumbering wizards five thousand to one, even very bizarre events were more likely to be mundane. "I still doubt it, statistically speaking," she said. "I guess I could write Professor Vector and ask, though."

"That might be a good idea," her mother told her.

Hermione wondered how Harry was reacting to the news, or if he had even heard about it. She really hoped this Sirius Black person wasn't a wizard. If he was, she had a bad feeling about Harry—No, no, that was the Gambler's Fallacy. There was no reason to think Black had anything to do with him, and hadn't Professor Trelawney told her she had no gift for divination?

Unbeknownst to Hermione, Harry was at that moment receiving a visit from Professor McGonagall, along with his grudging relatives.

"You have been doing well, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked.

"Eh, same as always," Harry said. He'd rather be able to see his friends on his birthday, but he was still getting by, and the Dursleys were staying in line.

"Very good, Mr. Potter. However I had something else to tell you today." She turned to the Dursleys and asked, "Have you heard the muggle news bulletins about the escape of the convict Sirius Black?"

"Of course. What—?" Uncle Vernon started, but his voice cut out, and he made a funny choking noise as the truth hit him.

"He's—he's one of you?" Aunt Petunia said in horror.

"I'm afraid so," McGonagall said. "He was a particularly vile servant of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"And—and—is he going to be a problem here?" Uncle Vernon said threateningly.

"Professor Dumbledore assures me there is no danger here," McGonagall said coolly. "I believe you're aware of the magical protections he placed on the house, Petunia?"

Harry spun around and stared at his aunt in surprise as she stood there with her jaw hanging open. Uncle Vernon narrowed his eyes and glared at her suspiciously.

"They came with the boy," she snapped when she regained her voice. "They're supposed to keep the…the bad wizards away from us," she whispered.

"Oh…well, fine, then," Uncle Vernon said, although he still didn't look too happy about having magic cast on his house.

With that, Professor McGonagall turned back to Harry: "Mr. Potter, Professor Dumbledore requests that you not leave the neighbourhood until it is time for you to do your shopping and return to school—just out of an abundance of caution, of course. I apologise for the inconvenience."

"Oh…" Harry said, "well, my friends are all out of the country until the end of summer, so I was gonna do that anyway."

"I see." The professor felt a little better about that. "I'm glad it could work out for you, then. Either I or Professor Vector will continue to come around to ensure there are no problems."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"This Potter," said Aunt Marge loudly, seizing the brandy bottle and splashing more into her glass and over the tablecloth, "you never told me what he did?"

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were looking extremely tense. Dudley had even looked up from his pie to gape at his parents.

"He—didn't work," said Uncle Vernon, with half a glance at Harry. "Unemployed."

"As I expected!" said Aunt Marge, taking a huge swig of brandy and wiping her chin on her sleeve. "A no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger who—"

"He was not," said Harry suddenly. The table went very quiet. Harry was shaking all over. He had never felt so angry in his life.

"MORE BRANDY!" yelled Uncle Vernon, who had gone very white. He emptied the bottle into Aunt Marge's glass. "You, boy," he snarled at Harry. "Go to bed, go on—"

"No, Vernon," hiccuped Aunt Marge, holding up a hand, her tiny bloodshot eyes fixed on Harry's. "Go on, boy, go on. Proud of your parents, are you? They go and get themselves killed in a car crash (drunk, I expect)—"

DONG!

Harry and Uncle Vernon both jumped, and Aunt Petunia nearly screamed. Harry was sure for a moment he'd exploded a clock or something with accidental magic, but the almost irrational rage and pressure were still there, unreleased. However, a split second later, they started to drain away as he realised the sound had, in fact, been the doorbell.

Aunt Petunia, surprisingly, seemed to recognise the danger because she immediately said, "Get the door, Harry," to get him away from Aunt Marge.

Harry didn't need to be told twice. He raced away to the front door, thinking, Please be a teacher. Please be a teacher. Please be a teacher. He opened the door. It was Professor Vector.

"Oh, Professor, thank Merlin," he said, sighing heavily with relief. "I think I was about to do something I shouldn't."

Vector immediately went on alert, "Why, Mr. Potter? What's wrong?"

"My Aunt Marge is here," he whispered urgently. "She doesn't know about magic, and she's going on about how awful my parents were—"

"Well, who is it, boy?" Uncle Vernon demanded from the dining room.

Harry thought fast: "Um, social worker visit, Uncle Vernon," he called, thankful that Professor Vector was wearing muggle clothes. Her old-fashioned style might even help him in this case.

"Social worker?" A loud, boisterous, slurring voice called from the dining room. "I should like to meet the one who can handle a little beast like that." There was a loud thumping sound of Aunt Marge staggering to her feet and stumbling down the hall.

"Social worker?" Vector whispered in confusion.

"They told Aunt Marge I go to St. Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys," Harry whispered back.

Vector raised an eyebrow in surprise, but at that moment, Aunt Marge came around the corner. Faced with this large, beefy…moustached? And extremely drunk and red-faced woman, Vector quickly drew herself up to her most imperious and intimidating pose. Severus would be proud.

"Good evening, Ms…" Vector started.

"Marjorie Dursley," she hiccoughed, not offering her hand. "Vernon's sister."

"Pleasure," Vector lied. "Septima Vector. Department of…"

"Social Services," Uncle Vernon muttered.

"Social Services, yes. I apologise for the late hour, but I needed to check on Harry, and things have been…chaotic of late at the office."

"I can imagine if half of them are half as nasty as this whelp," Aunt Marge replied, poking Harry roughly. "I do hope the boy is being disciplined properly at St. Brutus's."

"Uh—oh, yes, and thoroughly," Vector replied, suppressing an eye roll.

"I might check into that if I were you. The boy is far too flippant about being beaten."

Beaten? There are actual muggle schools that still use beating? "Well…uh, he can get like that sometimes. You know the sort: they can talk big, but they're much different under pressure…You should have seen the thrashing he got last May for being out of bounds again. Couldn't even get out of bed until the next morning."

Harry thought he saw a hint of a smile play across Vector's face. She might be enjoying this too much, he thought.

"Well, tell them to keep it up. If you're lucky, maybe it'll sink in before he comes of age. It's about the only thing that will work on a troublemaker who's mentally sub-normal."

Vector coughed slightly. Severus was the only teacher at Hogwarts who would testify to that.

"I was just telling Vernon and Petunia, it all comes down to bad blood," Aunt Marge continued. "Usually the mother. I should know—I see it all to time breeding dogs. The boy's mother was a bad egg."

Did that "woman" just call Lily Potter a—? Vector thought, but she managed to restrain herself. Mostly. "Not this one," she said. "I've seen his files. His father was the only one in the system—apparently known for elaborate pranks in his school days."

Harry's ears perked up. That was too specific to be drawn at random. Was Professor Vector actually telling him something about his father?

"Pranks," Aunt Marge scoffed. "What the perpetrators call a dirty, rotten con job. Well, then, it still comes down to poor judgement, obviously, getting themselves killed in a car crash."

Harry clenched his fists, trying to hold himself back again. In a pinch, bent twigs may be straightened with an ordinary pair of pliers, depending on type, he recited in his head.

"Ah, nasty business that," Vector replied innocently. "I've seen the file—winding country road, bad weather…" She leaned in closer like Aunt Petunia's gossipy friends. "There was some evidence a lorry driver ran them off the road, but it was never proved."

Harry barely restrained himself from laughing out loud as Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia gaped at her behind Aunt Marge's back. She had done more to undercut Aunt Marge's low esteem for his parents in ten seconds than he could have done all week. For once in her life, Marjorie Dursley was speechless.

"Well, I just need a moment with Mr. Potter, and then I'll be on my way," Vector continued.

"Um, right, right," Aunt Petunia tried to salvage the situation. "We'll just be in the dining room." And she and Uncle Vernon led Aunt Marge away.

"That was brilliant, Professor," Harry said when they were out of earshot. "How did you come up with that?"

"I think perhaps your friend Miss Granger is rubbing off on me. Will you need any more help dealing with her?"

"I don't think so. She's leaving tomorrow, thank God. But thanks a lot for coming by. I don't really have anywhere to go right now, and it would've been bad if I'd done something."

"Not a problem, Mr. Potter. Do write me if there are any other problems."

"Yes, ma'am…Professor, was my dad really a prankster?" Harry asked.

Vector nodded. "Worse than the Weasley Twins, he and his friends were. In fact, it really annoyed your mother. Fortunately, he grew up a lot in his sixth year. I'll tell you some of the stories sometime."

Harry smiled at that, even if it wasn't the story he expected. "Thanks, Professor."

"You're welcome, Mr. Potter. Good evening."

As Professor Vector left the property, she didn't notice, but Harry did, a large, black dog sitting on the other side of the street.

Hermione was more and more on edge after returning from France. She'd already finished her summer homework, and it was well past too late to redo it for another school. She'd barely have time to get her new books, and it was killing her not being able to tell her friends what was going on with her. Her parents noticed, too, as much as they didn't want to think about it. If they were honest about it, they had been putting off this discussion for far too long.

"Hermione's really getting nervous," Emma said as she sat at the kitchen table.

Dan nodded gravely. "I don't blame her. I don't like stringing her along like this. I just can't stand the thought of sending our baby back to that madhouse. I mean, I don't get what she sees in that place."

"Come on, Dan, you know better than that. She sees that she's got the best friends there she's ever had. And a teacher who's bent over backwards to stimulate her intellect and support her advanced studies—you know how hard we worked to get that for her in primary school—and she's finding a kind of strength there that, let's be honest, none of us ever knew she had."

"Yes, by facing certain death three times," he exclaimed.

"I know," Emma said soothingly. "I'm with you. It's only for her sake that we're even having this discussion. But we need to decide this tonight. We're nearly out of time, anyway."

"Okay," Dan said, folding his hands. "Let's talk. I say we should just send her off to Beauxabatons. Yes, I know she'll be devastated to have to leave her friends, but it's for her own good. Hermione keeps saying the threat's gone, but I have to wonder if she's not just fooling herself."

"She's not entirely wrong," Emma said. "The monster and the…spirit thing that was controlling it are both dead."

"Sure, and what'll be next time? Werewolves? Demons? What about this Sirius Black character? Professor Vector said he was one of those pureblood supremacist terrorists. Even if the Ministry of Magic is providing security, I don't like it."

That one was hard to refute. "I don't know," Emma said wearily. "With as many chances as we've given that place already…I just wish there was some way we could compromise. I want to keep her happy. I hate to see what it'll do to her to pull her out."

"So do I, honey, but it's all or nothing when it comes to schools. I just can't see sending her back until I see their security system actually work."

"I know. I wish I could. The only thing I can think of is that she'd have Dobby there now. She can call him anytime, and you can tell he'll protect her with his life."

"He's still only an elf," Dan said. He held up a hand when he saw Emma scowl at him. "Nothing against elves. He's been really great this summer. But three feet tall and less than two stone doesn't exactly instill me with confidence."

"He did throw a grown man down a flight of stairs," she reminded him.

Dan smiled a little at that. The elf had struck a chord with his protective fatherly instincts when he heard that bit, but it still only seemed like small consolation for all the trouble their daughter had got into over the past two years.

They kept talking for a long time, but they were just going in circles. Emma really wanted to find a reason to convince herself that it wouldn't be mad to let their daughter go back to Hogwarts, and even though his mind was more made up than hers, so did Dan. But no matter what they said, it was just unfounded words. If they were honest with themselves, they didn't even know enough about the magical world to understand what the risk ought to be.

"Okay, let's think about this logically," Emma said after they hammered at the last question at random for a while without success. "After all, that's what Hermione always does—well, usually does. Let's start with her first year. That year, we had the troll and the whole business with that possessed teacher."

"Don't forget the baby dragon," Dan said. "She may not have been in danger, but it definitely wasn't supposed to be there. And that's just what happened to her. Her friend Harry was nearly killed when that teacher cursed his broomstick."

"Okay, those too. But remember who let the troll in, and who gave that Mr. Hagrid the dragon egg."

Dan nodded slowly as he remembered.

"All the bad things that happened in her first year were caused by that teacher—Professor Quirrell—who was possessed by Vol—Voldee—this You-Know-Who character, whatever his name is, and they plugged the hole that let him get in. The Headmaster said what they did last year would have stopped him."

"Yes, I remember," Dan replied. "But then this past year, You-Know-Who was the one who caused trouble again, except he used a cursed book to possess Hermione's friend, Ginny. Yes, they killed the monster, so he can't ever do that again, but what do you want to bet he's got other tricks up his sleeve? What if he's got another book, and he possesses someone to just attack her outright or something."

"But why?"

"Well, she did hex him in the face. Twice."

"Oh, right," Emma said, "but Professor Vector's been there over twenty years, and nothing anywhere near that bad happened otherwise. And according to Hermione's history books, that includes a decade of open war." She stopped and shook her head. "Okay, that's not really even the point…" She took a deep breath as she tried to articulate the thought that was working its way through her mind. "Right, think of it this way: Hermione and Professor Vector told us all about the attacks and serious injuries in that school, past and present. What do they all have in common?"

"Well, to listen to them, it sounds like every bad thing that happened in that school, beyond ordinary bullying and sports injuries—which I'll give you she would still face elsewhere—but everything that's happened there in the past fifty years comes back to this You-Know-Who."

"Exactly!" Emma's face fell: "But Sirius Black was supposedly his top follower."

"Yeah…so the real question is, what is the school doing for security against Sirius Black. After all, why would You-Know-Who bother with another plan if his best henchman were suddenly available?"

"Hang on; I've got our copy of Professor Vector's letter here somewhere…" She riffled through the papers on the back corner of the counter. "Ah, here it is. Let's see…'Every entrance to the grounds will be guarded around the clock by guards brought in from Azkaban Prison.'"

"The same guards that let him get out in the first place?" Dan said.

"That's what it sounds like. Still…'Anyone crossing the ward boundaries other than at the designated entrances will be apprehended immediately, no exceptions. The area around the castle, particularly Hogsmeade, will be regularly patrolled by Aurors (dark-wizard-hunting detectives) and Hitwizards (violent crime response officers).' Well, a police presence is good."

"Yes, it shows that someone is being sensible, at least."

"It is a lot more than they had last year."

"True, but I'd feel better about it if they knew how he got out in the first place. And what if he uses another cursed book or something?"

But Professor Vector had answered that as well: "'All students' luggage will be scanned for dark magic upon arrival. Any luggage showing signs of dark magic will be searched.' It all sounds pretty airtight…Of course, Azkaban Prison was supposed to be escape-proof."

"So the real question is, do we trust these new security measures?" Dan said firmly.

That led to another long discussion. The new security measures were encouraging, especially since they were Ministry-sponsored and not done through the school. On the other hand, there was still the visceral reaction that after two years of this mess, they really didn't want Hermione going anywhere near that place again. Through the various points, Emma soon got to the heart of the matter: "I don't want to think the school's that dangerous. I mean, there are three hundred other children there."

"Yes, and three of them were attacked by that monster last year and one of them was possessed," Dan said. "But I see your point, though. There's hundreds of other families there that also want to keep their children safe, and they're going to want to make sure the Ministry is really on top of things…I don't know, what does your gut tell you?" Dan said.

Emma gave him a wry smile. "You're going to think I'm crazy."

"No I'm not, dear."

"Yes, you are, because I think I'm crazy. Honestly, my gut tells me that it's not gonna be as simple as just those security measures…but my gut also tells me Hermione's going to be alright."

"Okay…that does sound a little strange," Dan said cautiously. "Do you think we should get you tested for divination skill, like she was?"

Emma chuckled at him a little, but she said, "It's just that Hermione's going to start inventing her own spells this year, and we know what she's already done with that skill. Plus, she is going to have Dobby on call—and maybe more elves as friends if she plays her cards right. I know she's only not quite fourteen, but you have to admit she's growing up. I really think she can take care of herself—definitely better than she used to."

"Oh, I know she can." Dan sighed and stared off into space for a long while. "The crazy part is that I kind of feel the same way," he concluded. "I don't like it. And I've lost track of how many times I've said that. But I guess if you look at it rationally, you have to admit the risk is objectively not that high. I mean with Dobby and the new security measures, she's a lot more protected than before. And as much as I don't want to, I kind of have to admit the messes over the past two years were probably just a nasty coincidence. I don't know…I guess if you're comfortable letting her go back there, I can get on board."

"No," Emma said, "I don't think I'll ever be comfortable with it, but I think it's safe enough that I'm willing to do it for Hermione's sake…I don't think we should tell her just yet, though. Let's see if we feel the same in the morning, and then decide for sure."

"Alright, honey, I can live with that."

It was a very uneasy and rather sleepless night for the two of them (and Hermione wasn't feeling too good either, by now), filled with more soul-searching and half-mumbled conversations, but eventually, in the cold light of day, they agreed that they were still willing to give it a go—not to give the Hogwarts staff another chance: they felt that the school had already used up all of those—but to give the Ministry (and Dobby) a chance to make things right.

Hermione's resultant scream of joy could be heard throughout the entire neighbourhood and nearly gave Dobby a heart attack.

"Hermione?" Emma said, knocking softly on her daughter's open door. Her daughter's elation had died down over the past couple days, and they were now focusing on getting ready to return to school.

"Yes, Mum?" Hermione said, looking up from her linear algebra book.

Emma shut the door and sat down on the bed, which by itself started to trigger Hermione's suspicions. "Well…" she said slowly, "now that we know you're going back to Hogwarts, I think it's only fair that I sign your permission form to go to Hogsmeade."

"Oh, right," Hermione smiled. She got up and pulled the form from her stack of papers. "Here it is."

"Good," Emma said, taking out a pen. "Now, we expect you to behave yourself and to keep up with your schoolwork."

Hermione almost laughed: "Yes, Mum."

"It sounds like it'll be nice to get out of the castle once in a while," her mother said idly. "I bet it's popular with the older students, too, since it's the only place off the grounds where they can go on dates."

"Yeah, a lot of my older friends started dating in third year."

Emma gave her daughter a sly smile: "So are there any boys you're hoping will ask you to Hogsmeade?"

"Mum!" Hermione cried indignantly. "I-I-I'll probably just be going with Harry and Ron." She honestly hadn't thought about either of them that way—or any other boy for that matter…Well, maybe Cedric…

"Well, you are nearly fourteen, dear," she replied coyly. "You never know when some boy will catch your eye."

Suddenly, Hermione's analytical mind put all the pieces together. She flopped back on the bed and covered her face, saying, "Oh, no, you're going to give me The Talk, aren't you?"

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but it has to be done sometime. It's a rite of passage in every young woman's life."

"Mum, they give us all a seminar about all that before the first Hogsmeade weekend," she said.

Emma was taken aback a bit at that. "They do?" she said in surprise.

"Yes. Alicia told me about it two years ago. It's basically the same as in the muggle world—they want us to learn it properly before we learn it wrong from the older students—except there are some things that muggle-borns wouldn't know about."

"Um…Like what?" Emma said, feeling eerily like the tables had been turned.

Hermione blushed deeply, but she tried to answer: "Well, I've only heard this secondhand, but apparently accidental magic can happen in…certain situations. And then…they warn us about not abusing certain spells and potions." Despite her own embarrassment, she was a little pleased to see she made her mother blush a bit with that one.

"Um, does that happen a lot?" she asked.

"I've tried to avoid the details, but with my roommates, I hear a lot of rumours. Anyway, and they also cover the incantation for the Contraceptive Charm…"

Emma choked in surprise. "Th-there's a charm?" she said once she stopped coughing.

"Mum, do you really think wizards would go for thousands of years without inventing one?" Hermione said flatly.

"Well, I didn't know how difficult it was. You've said that magic doesn't affect people as well as inanimate objects."

"It's not that hard; it's a simple barrier method. I could probably invent it myself after another year of Arithmancy."

Emma blushed again, as did Hermione when she realised what she'd just said. "And…and…is it, you know, effective?" Emma asked.

Hermione sighed: "Mum, population growth in the wizarding world has been flat for centuries."

"Okay, okay, I get it—but I still need to give you The Talk—muggle-style. It's my duty as a mother."

"Fine, let's just get it over with," Hermione groaned.

Fortunately for Hermione, being raised by a pair of dentists meant that she was familiar enough with human physiology that the really embarrassing part didn't take long. After that, her mother really did have good advice about dating and relationships. True, she didn't think she'd be using any of it anytime soon, but she could agree it was good to be prepared.

Professor McGonagall wrote Harry and told him that Professor Dumbledore recommended he not take the Knight Bus directly to London, so as to cover his tracks a little more. Upon hearing this, the Grangers offered to give him a ride, so he took the Bus to their house.

Hermione answered the door and immediately hugged him. "Harry, it's good to see you," she said. "How have you been?"

"Okay," he said. "The Dursleys weren't too bad this year. And I even got Uncle Vernon to sign my Hogsmeade form."

"Oh, Harry, that's great. I was worried about that."

"Yeah, me too. I think if Professor Vector hadn't shown up when she did, I would've either made him really mad or run away from home—or both."

Hermione frowned. She was afraid he'd have a rotten summer. She wondered again whether it was had really been worth it to send him back to his relatives. Well, at least he was going back to school tomorrow for a hopefully normal year.

"Anyway," he said, "so you convinced your parents to let you go back?"

"Yes, or rather Professor Vector, Dobby, and I did, and even then, it's only because the Ministry's providing security. You've heard about Sirius Black, right?"

"Uh huh."

"I don't suppose your relatives care about you going back?"

"Nope. They're happy to see me go, and I bet they'd be even happier if I didn't come back."

"Harry, that's awful! You shouldn't talk like that."

"It's still true. You all ready to go?" he quickly changed the subject.

"Just about. Dobby was just—"

She was interrupted as the elf ran forward. "Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby squealed, and he hugged Harry's legs.

"Uh, yeah, good to see you, too, Dobby," Harry said. Hermione giggled at his predicament, and he glared at her.

"Hello, Harry," Dan said as he and Emma came to the door.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Thanks for giving me a lift."

"No trouble at all, Harry," Emma answered. "Please come in. We're almost ready."

Harry stepped inside to see that Hermione's trunk was already packed, and her parents were filling overnight bags. Hermione motioned for him to take a seat as she oversaw Dobby's work. "Dobby was just telling us about this time when Malfoy got in trouble," she said. "Dobby, if you're comfortable telling Harry, I think he'd like to hear it." The Grangers had served as unofficial counsellors for Dobby over the summer, even as Hermione went back to her real counsellor with her carefully constructed cover story about the Chamber of Secrets incident. They were trying to gradually encourage him to talk about his former masters and so un-train the bad habits of self-harm he had learnt with them.

"Malfoy getting in trouble? Definitely," Harry said.

Dobby gave him a weak smile and said, "Dobby was telling Miss Hermione that even though his old masters is very rich, sir, Master Lucius still wanted to teach Master Draco to be responsible."

"Ha!" Harry snorted. "Malfoy? Responsible? That's rich."

But Dobby shivered slightly and said, "N-no, Harry Potter, sir. Even though Master Draco is a…b-bad wizard b-bully—" Hermione laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder to keep him from panicking. "—he is still careful with his things."

"It makes sense," Hermione said. "He may be rich, but Mr. Malfoy would want Draco to be responsible with money since he'll have to run the family's affairs someday."

"Yes, miss," Dobby nodded. "And when Master Draco was nine, Master Lucius was thinking Master Draco was using up too many toy wands."

"Toy wands?" Hermione said. "What's a toy wand?" Her parents stopped and listened with interest.

Dobby got a confused look on his face. "It is being a wand that is a toy for little witches and wizards, miss," he said.

Hermione took a deep, calming breath and said, "I get that, but what do they do?"

"They is only supposed to make lights and sparks, miss," Dobby said apologetically. "But Master Draco was casting real spells and they was all burning out."

Hermione's eyebrows rose into her hair. Her mind started spinning with the implications that meant for how spell worked, how magical artifacts worked, how real wands worked; and she let loose a flurry of questions: "Wait, they cast real spells? That's allowed? They're allowed to sell them? And they burn out? What does that even mean? Do you mean they burn out after a certain amount of use, like a light bulb? Or do they burn out if you put a certain amount of power through them, like a fuse…? Oh, wrong person to ask. But do you know if they're made differently from regular wands?"

Dobby shook his head sadly. "Dobby is not knowing, Miss Hermione…but Dobby is thinking they would be, because they is sold as toys, miss."

Hermione thought about that and couldn't disagree. If they were sold as toys, they probably weren't traced by the Ministry or anything like that. But that meant that they were toys that could, in principle, cast real spells. She sighed: just another perk muggle-borns didn't have. "We should see if we can find some in Diagon Alley," she told her parents.

"I suppose we can look…" Dan said cautiously, wondering what they were getting into this time.

"So what happened with Malfoy, Dobby?" Harry asked as his head stopped spinning from Hermione's tangent.

"Oh, Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter, sir. Master Lucius thought Master Draco was using up too many toy wands, and Master Draco blamed Dobby, but Master Lucius did not believe him that time because Dobby does not know how to use a wand, sir. Then, Master Draco said he would do better if he had a real wand, but Master Lucius said he must learn to be responsible with toys first. Then, Master Draco tried to use three toy wands at once so they would not burn out, sir, but they exploded and smashed Mistress Narcissa's favourite vase."

Harry gasped with stifled laughter, but Hermione was confused. "Couldn't she just use Reparo on it?" she asked.

Dobby shook his head. "No, Miss Hermione. Master Draco had smashed Mistress Narcissa's vase before, miss, and the Reparo left cracks." Hermione remembered Professor Flitwick's warning that the Repair Charm worked less well with repeated use. "Mistress Narcissa was very angry. She made Master Draco clean his room for a month and forbade Dobby from helping." The elf giggled conspiratorially. None of the humans thought it was quite that funny, but Hermione, at least, could see why an elf would think so.

Once they finished packing, they got ready to go and loaded up the car. "Alright, Dobby, we'll be staying the night at the Leaky Cauldron with the Weasleys, so you can go on ahead to Hogwarts and get settled in there," Emma told him.

"Yes, Missus Granger," Dobby replied with bow. "Dobby has been honoured to work for the Granger Family this summer."

"It's been good having you here, too, Dobby. We'll see you at Christmas."

"Oh, and if Sonya or any of the elves give you any trouble, let me know, and I'll try to straighten them out," Hermione added.

"Yes, Miss Hermione." Dobby nodded and popped away.

"You know, that elf's really grown on me," Dan said.

"Certainly handy to have around," Emma said, "and really quite pleasant now that he's calmed down some."

Harry only cautiously agreed. It was nice of Hermione to help him, but…"Yeah, I guess he's pretty nice when he's not trying to jinx me."

The ride to London went smoothly, except that Hermione kept extolling the virtues of Arithmancy to Harry, which made him start to wonder if he was getting in over his head. They met up with the Weasleys without mishap, and Ron was bursting to tell the both of them what a great time he'd had in Egypt and to show off his new wand. Hermione tried to pay him back for the wand, but he refused, since the money came from their leftover lottery winnings.

They got their books and other supplies, including copies of Spellman's Syllabary and The Monster Book of Monsters for Ron and Hermione. (Hermione couldn't see the usefulness of a book that tried to bite you and wondered whose idea it was to assign it.) Harry also needed Numerology and Grammatica, while Ron needed Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles (which Hermione thought looked woefully out of date). ("I'm so proud of you for applying yourself this year," Mrs. Weasley said.)

However, the group made one extra stop that day, at Hermione's insistence. After asking the Weasleys for directions, they quickly located Elvendork's Enchanted Toys.

"The toy shop?" Ron said incredulously. "What are you going there for?"

"I wanted to get some toy wands," she replied.

"Toy wands? What d'you need toy wands for? You've already got a real one!"

"I don't want them to use them, Ron. I want to experiment with them."

That perked up two other sets of ears. "Experiment?" Fred and George said together.

"Erm, yeah. You know, figure out how they work, what they can do. It might give me some clues about real wands."

"Really? I hadn't thought of that before," said Fred.

"Do you mind if we—" George started.

"Join you with that?"

"Um, I guess if you don't destroy anything," Hermione said nervously.

"Us?"

"Destroy things?"

"Now what would give you that idea?"

"It's just that Mum wouldn't let us get any—" George clarified.

"—after that little incident with Ron's teddy bear." Fred finished.

"And said they were a waste of money," George finished.

"I see," Hermione said, biting her lip.

"Now, Hermione," her mother said, "your father and I exchanged some extra pounds to get you an early birthday present, but we don't want you spending a lot of money on toys, even if it's for experimenting. Didn't you say you'd like to get a pet?"

"I do, Mum. I only want a galleon or so for this."

"Well…alright, let's see what they have then."

They wandered around the shop and marvelled at the wide variety of enchanted toys, from animated stuffed animals to building blocks that could be stuck and unstuck at will to make impossible structures. Finally, they found a rack containing a surprising variety of toy wands of different types. The cheapest were a sickle apiece and looked like ordinary wooden dowels from a muggle hardware store, while the most expensive were a whole galleon and looked like real wands, except with few to no carvings. Those ones seemed pretty expensive toys considering a real wand was seven galleons—toys for someone like Malfoy.

After some cajoling and speculation on how much she could learn about wandmaking in general, Hermione convinced her parents to give her two galleons for her project, and she bought one one-galleon wand, three three-sickle wands, and eight one-sickle wands. That way, she could try to take some apart and test others in different ways.

She stacked up her purchases and approached the clerk. However, as he rang her up, she asked, "So these toy wands aren't restricted by the Restriction on Underage Sorcery?"

The clerk smiled and said, "Muggle-born?"

"Yes," Hermione bristled. "Is that a problem?"

"No, miss, it's just most people would know already. Toys aren't restricted long as the muggles don't see 'em."

"Oh, well, thank you. Do you know how they're made?"

"Ah, I think 'bout the same as regular wands, 'cept with cheaper materials. And no, I don't know how the Ministry tells them apart," he guessed her next question. "You'll want someone like Ollivander for that."

"Thanks," Hermione blushed. She checked her watch. "Oh dear. I guess we don't have time. We still need to get to Magical Menagerie. Well, I'll figure out what I can on my own first."

"I'll go with you," Ron said. "I want to get Scabbers checked out. He's been looking peaky since Egypt." He pulled his rat out of his pocket, and Hermione saw that he indeed looked thinner and more listless than usual. Come to think of it, Scabbers had to be getting pretty old for a rat.

They walked back up the Alley to Magical Menagerie. It was a crowded little shop, and very loud with all the calls of animals within. Some of the creatures Hermione recognised from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, like puffskeins, fire crabs, and streelers; but others, like huge purple toads, double-ended newts, and black rats that played skip rope with their tails, were completely unknown to her, which made her wonder about how magical breeding worked.

"Can I help you?" the witch at the counter said.

"Yeah, it's my rat," Ron replied, holding up Scabbers for her to see. "He's been looking sick all month."

"Well, let's take a look," she said as she examined him. "Magical rat?"

"Er…I don't think so."

"No? How old is he?"

"Dunno."

"Well, Ron, you've had him two years" said Hermione. "How long did Percy have him?"

"Long as I can remember. He must be…blimey, he's gotta be almost as old as I am."

"Is he? He must have some powers, then," said the witch. "A mundane garden rat will only live about three years or so. And it doesn't look like all those years have been good to him. He's missing a toe, too."

"He was fine besides that before we went to Egypt," Ron protested.

"Maybe he couldn't take the heat," suggested Hermione.

"I wouldn't think so. Rats are survivors. It could be he's just getting old. Now, if you'd like one that's a bit fitter…" She motioned to the sleek, long-tailed, black rats in the cage on the counter.

Ron shook his head with a faint scowl. Hermione was struck by the gesture. As much as he complained about Scabbers, he sure didn't want to get rid of him. Maybe it came from having to take everything secondhand, or maybe he really did care more than he wanted to admit.

"Well, if you really want to keep him, you can try this rat tonic."

"Okay," said Ron. "How much—OUCH!"

Hermione saw a huge ginger cat zoom through the air from the top of the stack of cages, hissing madly at Scabbers.

"NO, CROOKSHANKS, NO!" Scabbers slipped out of the witch's hands and scampered out the door at a speed that made him look not ill at all. Ron, Harry, and the cat swiftly followed. "STOP HIM!" the witch yelled.

Hermione and her parents jumped to lay their hands on the cat. Hermione dove and managed to get her arms around his middle. He struggled mightily as she stood back up, but she whispered to it, "Shh, shh, calm down, kitty. That rat's a friend." Something about the cat's face made her think he didn't believe her, but he still relaxed in her arms.

"Phew, good catch," the witch said. "A right menace, that one is."

"What kind is he?" Hermione said idly. Personally she thought he looked like a very handsome cat, if rather hefty, with a refined, noble face, intelligent eyes, and long, silky fur.

"He's a mongrel, that's what he is," came the aggravated response. "Half kneazle, with a chip on his shoulder big enough for a whole one."

"But aren't kneazles supposed to make excellent pets?" Hermione said, still cuddling the large beast and scratching him behind the ears. He began purring, and she crooned softly, "That's a good kitty, Crookshanks."

"Wow, I think our daughter has a way with animals," Dan muttered to Emma with a chuckle. "Who knew?"

"Well, sure, if you can handle them," the shopkeeper said. "They're very intelligent, have an excellent sense of direction, and an uncanny ability to sense untrustworthy people. But the kneazle enthusiasts don't want a cross-breed, and most others can't stand his…dominant personality. That monster's been here for ages. Nobody wants to take him."

"You're kidding!" Hermione exclaimed. "Look at him. He gorgeous." The witch scrunched up her nose and generally looked unconvinced. "Well, where I come from he is." Hermione insisted. "Any muggle-born family would love to have a Persian-kneazle cross like him. Poor Crookshanks," she cooed to the cat again. "Nobody understands us non-purebloods, do they?"

"It's official, she's in love," Emma muttered back to Dan, giggling. "And I thought we only had to worry about human boys."

"Mum!"

"Well, you know, he actually seems to like you," said the witch. "Tell you what, if you think that highly of him, I'll let you have him for just five galleons—no money back if you return him, though."

Hermione spun around and beamed at her parents.

"Now, Hermione, are you sure you can handle a pet like that?" her mother said.

"I'm sure, Mum. I wasn't sure if I wanted a cat or an owl, so I read all about cat care. Kneazles are a little tougher, but they're not that different."

Her mother smiled knowingly at her and then turned to the shopkeeper and slapped five galleons on the counter. "You've got a deal," she said, and then to Hermione, "Happy early birthday, dear."

Hermione was practically glowing as she carried her new pet out of the shop to show her friends.

Ron and Harry were not amused.