Squibs and Muggleborns

Hermione's father was delighted with the painting of her, Ron, and Harry in the Ministry's great hall. "We've got to bring your mum to see this. It's fantastic."

Hermione could feel her face flush. "Dad, keep your voice down. I work here."

"I know. Amazing. This would definitely cheer up Monica."

"All right, we'll all come, but maybe on a weekend when it isn't so busy." She tugged him by the arm. "Come on, I've got a meeting, let's go back to the courtyard and I'll call Purdy."

xXx

With her father safely in Purdy's capable hands, Hermione went to Shacklebolt's office.

A harried looking witch sat outside. "He's only got fifteen minutes, luv, so make it quick."

Hermione nodded and the door to Shacklebolt's office opened. He greeted her warmly and told her to have a seat.

Conscious of his limited time, she thanked him for seeing her and then launched right into the plight of Squibs and Muggleborns and asked for Ministry assistance in helping families. When she'd finished pleading her case, she sat quietly on the edge of her seat and waited.

Shacklebolt steepled his fingers and sighed. "Everything you say is true." Hermione took heart. "But…" He shook his head. "I just don't have the resources to devote to that right now. We're still in recovery mode. The Ministry isn't back at full capacity yet. We lost over a hundred employees during the war and have found replacements for less than half of them. Not to mention, the goblins are still hounding me about restitution for the damage you lot caused to the bank."

Hermione blushed and bit her lip.

"And I spend a lot of time assuring the Prime Minister that I've got everything under control, and there will be no more magical murders of Muggles."

"I understand, sir."

He leaned forward. "Look, I appreciate the difficulties of families in these situations, but the truth of it is, Muggleborns and Squibs make up a small percentage of our population. My suggestion is to talk to Minerva and see if there can be something done through Hogwarts to help the Muggleborns. As for the Squibs, to be honest, we need more of them to stay in our world, or at least come back to it, than we ever have before. We can offer them good jobs now, jobs that didn't exist before. Unfortunately, most families don't like to admit they've produced a Squib, so it's challenging. We end up with Muggleborns and Half-bloods doing jobs that would be better done by someone without any magic."

Hermione had never heard anyone say that. "Like what, sir?"

"We've always tracked Muggle science. Magic and electricity don't mix, but magic and science do, or at least they did, until advanced Muggle technology became so much a part of what they do. It used to be fairly simple for the Ministry to track Muggle advances in science, because we have a staff of people, who read journals and then disseminate relevant information. I get a daily briefing. The Wizengamot Arcane Arts committee gets a weekly briefing, and the whole Wizengamot gets a monthly briefing. However, Muggles increasingly use computers to share most of their information and don't print journals anymore, especially regarding scientific advances and as you know, aside from a few wizards who can shield their magic from electricity, we can't use them, so we need Squibs to interface with the Muggle world in that regard."

Hermione nodded. Both of her parents had computers and cell phones. "Isn't that all the more reason for the Ministry to get involved then?"

"Yes, but I still don't have the resources. I strongly encourage you to reach out. You and your friends can draw a lot of attention. Talk to the press, do interviews, talk about the issue. Perhaps start a club or a support group for families with non-magical children. Brainstorm solutions, so families can stay together, while still educating their children properly. You're a bright witch. I'm sure you can think of something, and I promise, I will speak favorably of it, if and when I'm asked, but that's about all I can do at this juncture."

Hermione nodded, her mind already considering the possibilities.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm meeting with the Wizengamot in a few minutes, and then I'm due at Downing Street."

"Of course. Thank you for your time, Minister."

"I'm always happy to speak to you, Hermione. I like to keep track of our best and brightest, and you never disappoint."

She blushed again. "Thank you, sir." They shook hands and she went back to her office.

xXx

That night when Hermione got home, Ron and Harry were in the parlor playing chess. She could smell delicious aromas emanating from the kitchen. "What's Purdy making for dinner?"

"Beef stew and fresh bread," Ron answered.

"Perfect." She looked at Harry. "Ginny went back to Wales then?"

"Yeah. She left this morning. She'll be back in a few days though, and then she's got two weeks at home. I can't wait."

Hermione nodded and sat on the sofa across from them. "I know it's hard."

Harry sighed.

"He's staying here though," Ron said cheerily.

Hermione couldn't help thinking Ron was rather like a collie in that regard. He preferred the three of them together where he could keep an eye out. She cleared her throat. "So, Harry, I need a bit of your clout."

The two of them looked up from their game. "Why?" Harry asked. "You have your own clout."

"True. But I'm not Harry Potter."

Ron chuckled. "She's got you there, mate. And so do I, check."

Harry looked down at the board. "Damn."

Hermione arched an eyebrow at Ron. "I wouldn't be so quick to laugh. I'm going to need you too."

Ron groaned. "What have you done?"

"I haven't done anything yet, but I'm going to."

"Okay," Harry said slowly.

"Right. So, what I need from you Harry is to support me when I start talking about Squibs and their important role in our society."

"Do they have an important role in our society?" Harry asked, confused.

"Yes!" Hermione said, irritated. "Well, perhaps they didn't used to, but now we quite need Squibs, and families are still dumping them off either into the Muggle side of their own families or into Muggle orphanages."

"Come on," Ron said. "The only two Squibs I know are bloody Filch and that bloke what makes the phone calls for you at the Leaky Cauldron."

"Terry," Hermione said.

"Right, and Terry seems like a nice enough bloke, but I'm not sure we have need of loads of people to do his work, or Filch's."

"Well, first off, I'm not sure if Filch is really a Squib or if he's just very low powered, but it doesn't matter. I talked to Shacklebolt today about the predicament of families dealing with non-magical children, and while he agreed it's a problem, he said the Ministry doesn't have the resources to deal with it right now—"

"So, you want to?" Ron was clearly exasperated. "Bloody hell, Hermione."

"Yes, I want to. And while there weren't good jobs for Squibs in the magical world before, there are now. We need them to interface with computers, so we can keep track of what's going on in the Muggle world, particularly in the sciences."

"Oh," Harry said. "I guess that makes sense."

"Does it?" Ron said.

"Yes," Harry and Hermione both said.

"Look," Harry said, "You know we burn out electrical equipment pretty quickly."

"Dad doesn't."

Hermione sighed. "Because he's among a small number of wizards who can shield their power from the circuits."

Ron rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah."

"Now that Muggles communicate so much with computers and cell phones and what not, it's gotten harder and harder for us to track what's going on with them. We need Squibs to do that for us, but there aren't enough."

"Oh," Ron said. "Then the Ministry ought to do something."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes. But they're still grossly understaffed."

"So, Shacklebolt is just dumping it off on us. That's bloody unfair."

"He's not dumping anything anywhere. I went to him, remember?"

Ron frowned. "Yeah. I wish you'd stop coming up with gigantic projects. Could we not take a break for ten minutes? I've got quite enough on my plate, as it is."

Hermione felt bad. Ron did have a lot going on with helping train new Aurors, as well as working as one during the day and working with George creating products at night. "I know. I'm sorry. That's why I asked for Harry's help."

"And how am I meant to be helping again?" Harry said.

"You're always being interviewed about one thing or another. I'm going to start talking about this problem. Inevitably, people will ask your opinion. I'm just asking for your support. That's all."

"Oh." Harry shrugged. "Yeah, I can do that."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you." She turned to Ron. "Actually—"

He frowned at her. "I was off the hook for all of ten seconds?"

"There's no hook. But if the subject comes up in the shop or at work, I need your support too. My goal is to have everyone talking about this, so that the demand for change comes from the bottom up."

"Will that work, you think?" Ron asked.

"I have no idea. Meanwhile, I'm talking to McGonagall tomorrow to talk about the other side of the problem."

"Dinner is ready," Purdy said from the kitchen door.

Ron stood. "Excellent."

xXx

After dinner, Hermione was tired so she went to read in bed.

Ron watched as she walked upstairs and shook his head. "That woman." He looked at Harry. "You want an ale?"

"Sure."

Ron flicked his wand and two Dragon Scales came flying out of the icebox. He caught them and handed one to Harry.

Harry scratched his head and yawned. "Why can't she just deal with her family problems like everyone else? With awkward avoidance and alcohol."

Ron sighed. "I don't know. I think a lot of this is guilt."

"Guilt?" Harry opened his ale. "About what?"

"Taking her parents' memories and sending them off to Australia."

"Yeah, but she fixed that and found the counter-curse for Obliviation in the process. Surely, that counts for something."

"Since her parents don't really understand the complex magic behind all that, I don't think it counts as much as you might think. Besides, she didn't tell her gran what she'd done, so her gran is very upset. Apparently, she went after Hermione pretty hard about that."

"I guess I'd feel guilty about that too."

Ron snorted. "Of course, you would. You feel guilty about everything."

Harry glowered at him.

Ron shrugged it off. "Not to mention, I stirred up this whole hornet's nest by telling her parents they were probably Squibs, and then she made it worse by showing them the family tree, which I'm fairly certain, I talked her into doing, so some of this is my fault."

Harry shook his head and chuckled. "Good job, mate."

"I swear I thought I was doing the right thing both times. I mean, I only told them they were Squibs because her dad was giving her such grief about living in the magical world."

"Yeah. I remember that dinner."

Ron sighed. "You know how she is. She's trying to make it right."

Harry shook his head. "So, now we have to make it right too."

Ron gave him a weak smile. "All for one…"

"Yeah, yeah," Harry said, smiling back.

xXx

When Ron went upstairs, Hermione was still reading in bed. "Hey. I thought you'd be asleep."

"I should be. I'm just having trouble settling down. My mind is racing. I've read this same page five times."

He crawled in next to her and kissed her cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too." She set aside the book and snuggled against him. "Lucky we're married. It would be terrible to be this in love and married to other people."

He chuckled. "I don't know. You and Neville might be very happy."

She leaned away from him. "Neville? Are you serious? He's not even a ginger."

Ron shook his head at her. "Good grief, woman, is my hair the only reason you love me?"

"Don't be silly," she teased as she ran a finger down his chest. "There are a few other things I like about you. I'm sure you could keep Luna quite happy while I'm married to Neville."

"Luna! I couldn't marry Luna."

"Why not? Luna's lovely."

"Luna's mental and she's so pale. If we had children, they'd be transparent." Hermione's face fell and he knew he'd said the wrong thing.

"At least she'd be more likely to give you children."

"Hey," he said, touching her cheek. "We said we'd give it five years. It's only been a few weeks and neither one of us is really ready to be a parent right now anyway."

"I know, but—"

"And," he said, interrupting her, because he knew what she was going to say. "I'd rather be with you without children than with anyone else with them, so it doesn't matter if we have them or not. Besides, lots of magical couples never have children. McGonagall was married for ages and she never had kids. That's true of loads of magical couples. You know that, so stop thinking this is only about you. I've taken a lot of magical damage too. We'll just have to see how it goes."

She nodded. "I know. You're right."

"Of course, I'm right."

Hermione sighed.

"What?"

"Part of the problem with Mum and Gran has to do with magical children."

"How so?"

"Gran thinks her sister will be furious if she knows who I am."

"Why?"

"Because Madam Scrivenshaft is her sister, and according the rules of tit-for-tat families, I should have gone to her to be raised."

Ron's mouth dropped open.

"The thing is Gran exchanged family photos with her sister for years until Mum got pregnant with me and then she stopped. Mum and I look so much alike—"

"You think Madam Scrivenshaft already knows."

Hermione nodded. "She might. If she suspected, it would have been easy enough to cast a spell on one of the photos of Mum and one of the photos of me from the Prophet and then she'd know for sure."

Ron rubbed his chin. "She has always given you special treatment. But why wouldn't she have said something?"

"I don't know."

"What are you going to do?"

"Well, tomorrow I'm going to talk to McGonagall, and then I guess I'll call Mum and see how she's doing."

Ron smiled sympathetically. "I'm sorry this is so hard."

She snuggled closer to him. "Me too."

xXx

Late the next afternoon, Hermione was sitting in McGonagall's office in a blue tartan armchair waiting for her to come downstairs. The older witch finally descended and took her seat in the chair opposite Hermione. "What can I do for you today, Miss Granger?" McGonagall smiled. "Or should I say Mrs. Weasley?"

Hermione shook her head. "Please don't. I've actually kept my name. It's easier than changing it, since I already hold spells under Granger, and Ron doesn't care. Besides, Molly is Mrs. Weasley."

"Very sensible. I never bothered changing my name. I think only purebloods do that these days, or worse, they hyphenate. What a mess that makes in the school registry."

"I'm sure."

"What brings you out today?"

Hermione explained about her family's situation and her own confusion coming into the magical world. "So, I thought if Muggleborns had the option of taking an enrichment class on daily magic that included cultural information, and domestic spell work, it would be easier for them to fit in."

McGonagall nodded. "That's not a bad idea, but the professors have such a workload already. I'm not sure any of them would be willing to add a class—"

"Actually," Hermione interrupted. "I was thinking Molly might be interested. I spent several weeks at the Burrow after the war and really had an opportunity to learn from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley things no one ever taught us in school. All of her children are out of the house now, and the Order isn't active anymore, so I thought perhaps she might be interested."

McGonagall steepled her fingers. "That's a thought."

"Fleur might be interested too. She's working part-time now for the Ministry in their foreign liaison office, but she might be a good resource for the children who, you know—"

McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "Aren't entirely human?"

"Yes."

McGonagall nodded. "You've given me a lot to think about. Let me sit with this a bit, and I'll get back to you."

"Thank you," Hermione said.

"No, thank you," McGonagall said standing. The two women shook hands before Hermione took the Floo to the Leaky Cauldron, so she could call her mother.

xXx

The magical side of the Leaky Cauldron was as busy as usual, but Hermione went over to the Muggle side. There was an old man in one corner sleeping. Hermione raised her eyebrows at Terry who was wiping down the bar. She tilted her head at the guy in the corner.

"I think he's homeless," Terry said.

"Is he a Squib?"

Terry shrugged. "He just opened the door and came in a couple of weeks ago, and since then, he comes in every day, sits in that corner, and falls asleep."

Hermione looked at the old man. His clothes were worn and he was very thin. She reached into her bag and pulled out two galleons and set them on the bar. "Do me a favor and feed him when he wakes up. When that stops covering his meals, tell me, and I'll give you some more."

Terry nodded. "All right. He's a bit ripe. I think he cleans up in the loo sink, but that doesn't help his clothes."

Hermione slipped her wand out of her pocket and cast a cleaning charm on the old man while he slept.

"Thanks," Terry said.

She put her wand away. "Living rough is hard enough when you have magic. It must be awful without it."

Terry looked at her sympathetically and she blushed. She cleared her throat to break the moment. "Can you place a call to my Mum for me?"

"Sure," Terry said. He dialed the number for her without having to ask for it and held out the handset. She took it and waited for her Mum to answer.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mum. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, dear." But her mother didn't sound fine.

"Have you talked to Gran?"

"She's not answering her phone right now."

"I'm so sorry. I had no idea that—"

"Don't apologize. You haven't done anything wrong."

"I probably shouldn't have said—"

"Don't. I'm serious. These are old wounds created long before you came along. You can't blame yourself for that."

"Well, I've taken steps to try and start alleviating this problem for other families."

"Already?"

"Yes. Nothing has happened yet, of course, but I've talked to the Minister of Magic and the Headmistress of Hogwarts, and they both recognized the problem. I won't let go of it, Mum. I'll keep pushing until we fix it."

"Of course, you will, darling."

Hermione sighed. "I just wish there was something I could do to help you."

"There is actually."

"Really? All right. Anything. What do you need?"

"I'd like to meet my aunt."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. She hadn't expected that. "Um, well, okay. I mean…of course, but…are you sure that's a good idea? I mean Gran said—"

"I don't care what Mum said. She kept half my family from me for my entire life. Now maybe this woman won't want to know me, but on the off chance that she might, I feel like I've got to try."

"Well, as I told you, I know Madam Scrivenshaft. I can certainly arrange a meeting. Do you want me to tell her who I am before she meets you or…?"

"I don't know. I'd really like to just see her first, even if she doesn't want to meet me. Is there any way I could do that before you tell her?"

"I could take you to Hogsmeade and we could go into the shop during business hours."

"I'm always up for shopping. It would be nice to go to Hogsmeade, since you've mentioned it so many times over the years."

"When would you like to go?"

"Is tomorrow too soon?"

"No. We can get lunch while we're there if you like." Even though they were making plans that were similar to any other Saturday, Hermione felt her pulse race. Her mind was spinning with the possibilities.

"That sounds lovely."

"I'll send Purdy for you tomorrow at noon then."

"I'll be ready."

After they said their goodbyes, Hermione gave the handset back to Terry.

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Everything alright, luv?"

"I guess." Stunned at the turn of events, she walked back through the door to the magical side and out into Diagon Alley. She stared down the street at the massive white structure of Gringotts and blew out a slow breath as she started walking toward it. Even though she knew she was now officially allowed inside the bank, she hadn't been back in there since the war. But if she was going shopping with her mother, she'd need gold. She'd just given her last two galleons to Terry. As she approached the high bronze doors, a shiver passed through her. The last time she'd been through those doors, she'd been Polyjuiced into Bellatrix LeStrange, and she'd left by blowing a hole through the roof to let out the blind dragon she and Ron and Harry were clinging to.

"Bloody hell," she whispered. She blew out another calming breath and tried to relax. She opened the bronze door and quickly stepped into the antechamber. Before she could rethink it, she opened one of the silver doors that lead into the lobby and stepped inside, only to be confronted with her own face in bronze. In the center of the main lobby, cast life-size, were her, Ron, and Harry led by Griphook. It bore absolutely no resemblance to the truth. She was not Bellatrix, Ron was not under a glamour charm, Harry and Griphook were not hidden under the Invisibility Cloak. Instead, it looked as though they had waltzed into the bank behind Griphook and did what they needed to without anyone stopping them. She stood staring at the statue for a moment. What a load of bollocks, she thought. Oh well, might as well see if this works. She stepped up to one of the bank tellers. "I'd like to make a withdrawal," she said to the goblin behind the barred window.

"Wand," he said in the same nasal drawl Griphook had spoken with. She handed him her wand. He set it in a slot and it glowed green. Her name must have popped up somewhere in front of him because he suddenly scrutinized her closely, leaning toward her as he scowled, but all he said was, "Amount?"

"Twenty galleons, please." She knew that was a lot, but she didn't fancy coming back into the bank again anytime soon. The goblin frowned deeply at her, but handed her the galleons and her wand back. "Thank you." She turned and walked briskly back outside, ignoring the statue and the looks of everyone else in the bank, as she went. Once outside, she Disapparated back home.

xXx

Ron and Harry were reading in the parlor when Hermione appeared in the foyer. Ron looked over the back of the sofa at her. "Oi, you're home late."

"Sorry." She put her cloak on the rack by the door. "After my meeting with McGonagall, I went to the Leaky Cauldron to call Mum. She wants to go shopping tomorrow, so I went to the bank to pick up some gold."

Harry put down the Quidditch magazine he was reading. "You went into Gringotts?"

"Yes."

"How was it?" Ron asked. "I haven't been yet."

"Me neither," Harry said.

Hermione grimaced and sat down next to Ron. "It was weird. They already have the statue up."

"Yeah?" Harry said. "How's it look?"

Hermione shrugged. "Depends. We're faithfully rendered in terms of the statues looking like us, but what it implies about what happened is complete rubbish."

"But we knew that," Ron said.

"I know. But seeing it in person…" She shook her head. "It's just so ridiculous. Not to mention, everyone was staring at me and the goblin who got my galleons was clearly appalled to see me."

"Weren't they supposed to tell us when they put up the statue?" Ron said. "I mean, isn't there usually some sort of ceremony like there was for the painting?"

"I'm guessing, based on my reception today, that the goblins didn't fancy having to shake hands and make nice with us in public, so they just put it up and let people draw their own conclusions, which of course, will be false."

"Great," Harry said sarcastically. "I can't wait to go now."

"Yeah," Ron said. "I want to rush right in and open an account."

"Actually. You probably should. You can't just keep throwing your pay into that chest in our bedroom."

Ron sighed. "I know. I know. Can't you just put it in your account though? You've already seen the bloody statue."

"I can if you like, but don't you want your own account?"

Ron shrugged. "I don't see how it makes any difference. It's all ours anyway."

Hermione leaned over, took his face in her hands, and kissed him soundly on the lips. "You are the sweetest man."

Harry made a gagging noise. "On that note, I'm going to bed. Please try and make it to the bedroom before things get truly repulsive." Hermione frowned at him and Ron raised two fingers at him. Harry chuckled as he went upstairs.

Ron looked at Hermione and waggled his eyebrows. "Are you in the mood for anything truly repulsive?"

She smiled and stood. "I'll race you." She started running, but when Ron almost caught her, she Disapparated.

"Hey," he shouted. "That's not fair!" He could hear her laughing from their bedroom.

xXx

The next day at noon, Hermione stood nervously on the path that lead from Hogwarts down to Hogsmeade. She thought her mother might enjoy the view and that the walk into town might help calm her nerves. Promptly at noon, Purdy appeared with her mother in tow.

"Thank you, Purdy," her mother said.

"Yes, thank you," Hermione added. "I'll take her home from here. I'll see you later."

"Yes, Miss," the little elf replied and disappeared.

Her mother turned to her. "Well, here we are." She looked around. "Where are we?"

Hermione smiled. "If you go up that way, the path goes to Hogwarts. If we go this way, we'll reach the village."

"Oh. I assumed we'd go right to the village."

"We could have done. But, if you'll follow me, I think you'll like this walk." She led her mother down the path to a bend that opened into a clearing. Hermione stepped off the path and her mother followed.

"Wow." The clearing opened onto a spectacular view of the school up on the cliffs overlooking the river as it flowed down to the charming town of Hogsmeade along the banks. "This is lovely."

Hermione smiled. "I think so too. I knew you'd like it." They stood and enjoyed the view for a few minutes. "Shall we get lunch first?"

Her mother shook her head. "Heavens no. I'm much too nervous to eat. What I'd really like to do is just see her, and get that out of the way, so we can have our day."

Hermione nodded. "Good. I don't think I could eat right now either."

Her mother smiled. "You got my stomach. It's too bad really. Your father can eat anything at any time. Stomach of iron, he has."

"Ron's like that too. The maddest things could be happening around us, and he'd be eating like we were at Sunday dinner."

Her mother chuckled. "How do they do it?"

"I have no idea. The first sign of trouble and I'm off food." Her mother took her arm and they continued down the path. Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop was one of the first shops along the high street. Hermione slowed as they approached. "How do you want to do this?"

"Perhaps I should just go in on my own. I just want to see her to start with."

"It's a small shop. If you walk in, she's going to talk to you. It's not as though you can hide behind a display or anything like you could if she worked in a book shop."

"Right." Her mother thought for a moment. "We could just go in together I suppose."

"We could."

"Let's. We'll just see what happens."

Hermione blew out a slow breath. In this regard, she was more like her father, fond of a plan. Her mother was more like Ron, willing to wing it and see what happened. "All right." They continued toward the shop. At the door, she stopped. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Her mother opened the door and stepped inside. The opening door chimed a small bell. Hermione hurried in behind her.

"Good afternoon," Madam Scrivenshaft said. "Oh, hello, Hermione."

"Hi. Madam Scrivenshaft, this is my mother, Monica Granger."

Madam Scrivenshaft came out from behind the counter and stood before them. "Well, of course she is. You two look so much alike." She smiled sadly. "And you both favor my grandmother."

"You know then?" Hermione asked.

"Of course, I know, dear. The first time you walked through that door I knew exactly who you were. It took a while for your picture to appear in the Daily Prophet, so I could confirm my suspicions, but I suspected from the start, and I was right."

"Why have you never said anything?"

"I assumed you didn't know."

"I didn't until recently."

"Neither did I," her mother said. "I always thought my mother was an only child."

Madam Scrivenshaft shook her head. "Oh, Honoria." She sighed. "Come and have some tea." She went behind the counter and through a curtain. Hermione and her mother exchanged a glance and then followed. "Ernest," Madam Scrivenshaft called. "Will you go and mind the shop? I've got guests."

"Yes, dear," came a reply. Moments later, Mr. Scrivenshaft passed them in the hall. "Hullo," he said.

"Hello," Hermione said and then followed her mother and great aunt into the kitchen in the living quarters at the back of the shop.

Madam Scrivenshaft touched her wand to the kettle and spooned tea into a pot before filling it with boiling water. She flicked her wand and the pot and three cups landed on the table along with a packet of biscuits that flew out of the larder. Madam Scrivenshaft sat down and poured tea for everyone. "Does anyone need milk or sugar?"

Hermione and her mother both shook their heads.

"Right," Madam Scrivenshaft said. "Most of our family drinks tea black. My husband thinks that's weird."

Hermione and her mother glanced at each other. "Madam Scrivenshaft—"

"Please, call me Hestia," Madam Scrivenshaft said. "Or Auntie, if you'd prefer."

"Um," Hermione said. "All right, can you…I mean…well…" She looked at her mother. "Honestly, I don't know where to begin."

"Then let me start," Hestia said. "I just want you to know how proud I am of you. I read that article in Magic Today about what you and Harry Potter and the Weasley boy did to defeat Voldemort, what you went through." She shook her head. "Shocking."

Hermione's mother gave her a hurt look, and Hermione wished Hestia would shut up about the article and the war, but instead she went on about how awful the Malfoys were, and how they'd gotten off and how wrong that was. She recalled how awful Bellatrix and Lucius had been in school.

"Please," Hermione said. "We're not here to talk about me or the war."

"Of course," Hestia said. "Of course. I just wanted you to know."

"And I appreciate that." Hermione glanced at her mother. "But what I'd really like is to see is if we could sort things out between you and Gran."

Hestia sighed. "I would love that."

"I don't understand," Hermione's mother said. "She thought you'd be angry."

"Angry about what, dear?"

"Well, that you didn't get Hermione."

Hestia looked confused. "I didn't even know Hermione had been born until she came for her first Hogsmeade weekend, and even then, I wasn't certain. I had a strong feeling though. But when she started dating Viktor Krum and the Potter boy and their photos were in the paper, then I could do the spells to confirm it."

"Just to be clear. I never dated Harry."

"Oh, that's right. I saw that retraction in the paper after the trial. And you married the Weasley boy. Isn't that lovely?"

"Ron, and yes, he's lovely—" Hermione felt like the point was being lost.

"Nonetheless, up until then, I had no idea why Honoria stopped talking to me." Hestia shook her head sadly. "I sent letter after letter asking her what I'd done, but she refused to respond."

"Why didn't you just go ask her?" Hermione's mother said.

"Me, go into the Muggle world?" Hestia said with raised eyebrows. "Good heavens. I wouldn't know how to begin."

"Couldn't you just have taken the Knight Bus?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, I hate that contraption."

Hermione sighed. "So, you never suspected why she stopped corresponding?"

"No. At least, not until I saw you. Then I knew."

"But you weren't angry?" Hermione's mother asked.

"Disappointed, yes. Angry, no. But I confess, I didn't understand why you wouldn't want Hermione to know her own family and understand her world better."

"If you mean why didn't I give her to you to raise, I would never have done that. I can't imagine why you'd even expect such a thing, not that I was even aware it was a possibility."

"Give her to me? Well, I suppose you could have done, but you could also just let her see us occasionally, so she'd know about the world she would eventually live in."

"That would've been nice," Hermione said.

Her mother frowned at her. "Well, no one told me that was an option. In fact, until a few days ago, I didn't know my mother even had family, much less a sister who's a witch. Mum told us a few days ago that the rules of the family were that Hermione would've had to go and live with you if you knew about her, so she cut ties so no one would come for her."

Hestia shook her head sadly. "That's not how it works. It's up to the parents."

"Then why does Gran think otherwise?"

Hestia let out a heavy sigh. "Because our Mum was a nutter. When Honoria was just a baby, Mum had a magical accident that left her…not quite right in the head. Dad, well, he loved her, and he wanted her to be happy. She was so sad when I went off to school that she clung to Honoria a bit too much for a bit too long. We knew Honoria was a Squib and she should be staying with the Muggle side of the family during the school year, but Mum couldn't stand to let her go. It didn't help that my father was embarrassed that she was Squib, so when Mum had deteriorated to the point that she had to go into St. Mungo's for good, Dad sent Honoria to live with the Muggle side of the family permanently."

"Is she still in St. Mungo's?" Hermione asked.

"No, dear, she passed a long time ago."

"What about your father?" Hermione's mother asked.

"I'm sad to say he washed his hands of all of us. He paid for my schooling, but he went off to Europe and I didn't hear from him again. I tried writing a few times, but he didn't respond, so I gave up. I heard nothing from him until he died fighting Death Eaters in the last war. I didn't even know he was back in England until I got notice of his death. I was so angry at him. It was devastating when Honoria cut me off too. Thank goodness I had Ernest to help me through it all."

Hermione's mother set down her teacup. "I'm so sorry. This all sounds like a horrible misunderstanding."

"Yes," Hestia said. "Although, given her young age, I can see how Honoria would've gotten the whole tit-for-tat thing confused. A lot of times, the children are exchanged as babies, but not always. As I said, it's up to the parents, but poor Honoria got unceremoniously dumped. She hadn't been educated properly. I know because I had to do a lot of remediation at Hogwarts myself. Dad tried to teach me, because Mum wasn't capable, but he had to work too. There are only so many hours in the day. I don't know if he even tried much with Honoria. I did, but I couldn't help her that much before I went off to school."

"That's awful," Hermione said.

Hestia fiddled with a cookie, crumbling it on a plate. "It wasn't good, but I loved Honoria. I still love her. I'd love to see her. It's been far too long, and we're not getting any younger."

"I'll talk to her," Hermione's mother said. "Perhaps, now that I have this new information, we can work out a way for you two to reconnect."

"I'd like that."

They all sat in silence for a moment. Hestia smiled at Hermione's mother. "So, Monica, everyone knows Hermione. Tell me about you."

Hermione smiled as she listed to her mother talk to her great aunt about her life. Not so long ago, she had despaired that she had lost her family forever, but there she sat with her old family restored and a new family to get to know.

xXx

It was well over an hour before Hermione and her mother left Scrivenshaft's.

"Are you hungry?" Hermione asked.

"Not really, are you?"

"I'm full of short bread."

Her mother chuckled. "Me too." She bit her bottom lip. "Would you mind terribly if we put our shopping off for another time. I'm feeling…I don't know…"

"Overwhelmed?"

"I suppose."

"Me too. I'm fine to take you home. We'll come back and go shopping some other time."

"Good. Because I really want to do that."

"Me too." Hermione held out her arm. "Come on then." They Disapparated back to London.