A/N: We have arrived at the chapter(s) I've been building towards for the entire fic. I'm nervous. Hope it doesn't disappoint. Enjoy the ride.
January 8, 2016 (Evangeline)
"M-Minister Granger…?"
Eva was having difficulty processing the woman seated before her, for more reasons than one. This was the woman she'd idolized for years and never thought she'd be able to meet. Yet she had just called Eva by her true last name, implying that she knew who Eva was. That wasn't even considering that mere seconds ago, she'd been whisked away from Hogwarts to the Ministry of Magic via Portkey, something she believed to be impossible. All signs pointed to this being some kind of dream, or perhaps a trick of the Room of Requirement.
"Yes, Evangeline, it's really me," Hermione said with a sad smile, as though reading her thoughts. "I apologize for the subterfuge. It has been very difficult to arrange a meeting with you without alerting the Headmaster."
"Wouldn't a Portkey through the school wards do exactly that?" Eva asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Normally yes," said Hermione. "Except I managed to deactivate the anti-Portkey runes during my last visit to the castle. I have Professor Babbling to thank, for boasting so openly about your little incident with the cell phone earlier this term. A brilliant idea that I may have copied."
"How did you know about that?" Eva frowned.
"Professor Abbott informed me," said Hermione. "She and Professor Lovegood keep me updated on significant happenings around Hogwarts. And as of late, those happenings have all involved you."
"Wait, so...you have spies inside the castle?" asked Eva.
"In a sense," Hermione shrugged. "The same way Neville Longbottom feeds Potter information from within the Ministry. It's not exactly a secret."
"So, what, you told Abbott and Lovegood to watch me?" asked Eva.
"Not specifically, no," said Hermione. "That would've drawn suspicion, especially given that you aren't taking either of their subjects. But I have been keeping tabs on you, Evangeline. I expected great things from you, and from everything I've heard, you haven't disappointed."
"But why?" asked Eva, exasperated. "Why is everyone so interested in me all of a sudden? I didn't ask to be scrutinized by everyone. I'm nobody special."
"I'm afraid that isn't true, Eva," said Hermione. "You may be humble about your talents, but you are special. You have been from the moment you started at Willoughby."
"Just because I work hard," Eva shrugged. "It's not like I'm inherently better at magic than everyone else."
"As a matter of fact, you are," Hermione said with a wry smile. "But it's not something you did on purpose. It has nothing to do with hard work, and everything to do with your parents."
"My parents are dead," Eva said glumly.
"No, they aren't."
Eva frowned at this. "I saw them with my own eyes," she insisted. "They were stabbed in the chest. There's no way they survived."
Hermione looked at Eva with a pained, sad expression on her face. "Forgive me, Eva," she said softly. "But Mark and Virginia Thomas are not your real parents. Those are not even their true names. You were placed in their care as a baby, to protect you from the ongoing war and keep you far away from the violence in Great Britain."
"Who are they, then?" Eva asked, an uneasy feeling building in her stomach.
"Their real names are Eric and Jane Granger," said Hermione. "I modified their memories and sent them to Australia when I was seventeen years old, shortly before the war. Only to return two years later, to modify their memories once more, and leave them with a child they believed to be their own."
Eva's eyes widened. "You took me there?" she asked. "But then...you…"
"Eric and Jane Granger are your grandparents," said Hermione. "And I am your mother."
Eva searched Hermione's face, looking for any kind of indication that she was joking. But all she saw was pain, regret, and sadness as she explained all of this to the younger witch. There was no denying the truth in her words, though Eva could not seem to wrap her head around it.
"But that means my father…"
"He didn't know you existed for some time," said Hermione. "I did it as much to protect you from him as from Voldemort. But last summer, he found you, and staged your adopted parents' death as a guise to bring you to Hogwarts."
"Harry Potter," Eva murmured.
"I was foolish to think I could keep you from him forever," Hermione sighed. "He looked for you for many years. And when he tracked you down, he brought you under his wing while keeping me in the dark about what he had done."
"Wait...slow down," Eva groaned. Her head was spinning, and she wasn't sure if it was lingering after-effects of the Portkey or the impact of the revelations being thrust upon her. After a year of posing as a pure-blood, it turns out she was never Muggle-born in the first place. Her parents were the most famous witch and wizard on the planet. And both of them had gone to such great lengths to hide this fact from her...but why?
"You mean to tell me that you and Potter had a secret kid that no one knew about?" Eva asked. "And you abandoned me in Australia, because you were afraid Potter would what, kill me?"
"I did not abandon you," Hermione corrected her firmly. "I had every intention of telling you the truth when you came of-age. But Potter is dangerous, Eva. His vision for the future is not a pleasant one. I wanted to protect you from all that, at least until you were old enough to make up your own mind about him."
"I can think just fine for myself!" Eva protested. "You shouldn't have kept me in the dark!"
"You're right," Hermione sighed, and for the first time, she looked human. Tired and defeated. No longer the shining image of heroism Eva had imagined her as. "I just couldn't bring myself to destroy the life you'd built for yourself. I didn't want to disappoint you with the truth. But I suppose it's too late now, so all I can say is that I'm sorry."
Eva saw the sincerity in Hermione's face, and her gut instinct was to forgive her. But many more ideas and questions were swirling in her mind, and she needed answers.
"How did Potter find out about me?" Eva demanded. "If you tried to hide my existence from him?"
"He knew you existed," Hermione corrected her. "I needed something to keep him in check, to prevent him from doing whatever he wanted after the war. As long as he knew you were out there, and I was the only person who knew where you were, he didn't dare cross me. That's why he has yet to run for office against me until now."
"But he still found me," Eva pointed out. "How?"
"He knew roughly how old you'd be, and that you were likely to be enrolled in a magical school once you came of-age," said Hermione. "So he kept tabs on all the other schools to look for matches. Eventually he came sniffing around Willoughby, found you living with my parents, and put two and two together."
"Then he killed them?" Eva asked, beginning to grow angry. "And you let him get away with it?!"
"He did not kill them," Hermione sighed. "He employed a bit of very Dark magic to make it appear that they had been murdered by C.A.W. But I checked the graves, and the bodies buried there were Homunculi, transfigured to look like my parents. The real Eric and Jane Granger were removed from the house before the 'attack' ever took place."
Eva's head spun from the revelation. "My parents are alive?" she asked breathlessly. She didn't even care that they weren't her real parents – they were still the couple that raised her, that considered her a daughter, despite all that they'd been through. "What really happened to them, then?"
"I wish I knew," Hermione sighed. "Potter refuses to tell me where he took them. I suspect they're somewhere else in the world, under a new Memory Charm, living new identities, blissfully unaware of the two magical daughters they raised. I didn't even realize what he'd done until this past summer, when I visited to check in on you as I always do."
"You checked on me?"
"August thirteenth, every year," Hermione grinned sadly. "You remember the old lady who used to come by with gifts?"
"That was you?" Eva gasped in surprise. Even her parents hadn't known the identity of the odd woman who used to show up on their doorstep every year like clockwork, bearing well-wishes and a small gift for the birthday girl. She was one of the few in the neighborhood who didn't regard them with distrust and fear. Eva still cherished some of the simple gifts she'd received from the woman – a set of notebooks, a cotton shawl, a fruity perfume she'd worn for an entire year – and had never known they'd come from her birth mother.
"It was me," Hermione confirmed. "Imagine my surprise last summer when I showed up to a vacant lot, heard about the terrible attacks, and realized what had happened! I went straight to Hogwarts to confront him."
That certainly explained why Hermione had stormed into the Great Hall over the summer, on Eva's birthday of all days. "Why won't he tell you where they are?" Eva asked.
"He promised to someday," said Hermione. "But only on the condition that I do not interfere with your Hogwarts experience. Ironic, isn't it? Using the same tactics I used against him. He wanted a chance to raise you, to mold you under his tutelage – without my interference."
Another sickening realization was dawning on Eva now. "That's why he gave me a fake name," she muttered to herself. "It wasn't about posing as pure-blood at all."
"It was to hide the fact that you'd been transferred," Hermione nodded sagely. "I would have known straight away if I'd seen an 'Evangeline Thomas' enrolled at Hogwarts out of the blue. Potter quietly erased your Willoughby records and enrolled you as 'Eva Prewitt', which raised no alarm bells in my department. Prewitt is a highly common wizarding name, and I would not have thought twice about your sudden appearance in the registry."
"But that wasn't the only reason!" Eva exclaimed. "He knew I would be in a dorm with Victoire...he knew the Weasleys and the Prewitts were closely connected! He wanted them to bring me close...to keep an eye on me…"
"I admit, the Weasleys were a big reason why I could not approach you earlier," Hermione frowned. "They are perhaps the most loyal Potter supporters in Britain. Ginny in particular holds a nasty grudge against me...in her eyes, I took the love of her life away from her."
Eva remembered the awkward encounter outside the Headmaster's office, hearing the sounds of lovemaking coming from within. "You and Potter are still...together?" she asked cautiously.
"That...is a long story," Hermione sighed; clearly this was as uncomfortable for her to talk about as it was for Eva. "But it doesn't matter right now. What matters is what happens next. I'm taking a big risk in contacting you, because Potter can be unpredictable when provoked. But I need your help."
"My help?" Eva asked. "With what?"
"Well, as you know, he's decided to run for Minister," said Hermione. "Now that he has you under his wing, I have nothing to hold over him to stop him. But I don't think he wants the job for the power or the prestige. There's something specific he's after in the Ministry, something dangerous, and I'm trying to figure out exactly what that is."
"He's studying time," said Eva. "He won't tell me why, exactly, but he's asked me to help him research its magical properties."
"I suspected as much," Hermione frowned. "I've caught several people trying to break into the Department of Mysteries in the past few weeks. I can't prove Potter's behind the attempts, but the culprits all have ties back to him."
"Why the Department of Mysteries?" asked Eva.
"That's the part I'm not sure about yet," said Hermione. "When Potter and I were fifteen, we broke into the Department of Mysteries and accidentally destroyed the Ministry's supply of Time-Turners. The time travel program was discontinued shortly after that, and even I don't know how they were made in the first place. The Unspeakables keep that information locked away tightly."
"You think he wants to make a new Time-Turner?" asked Eva.
"It's possible," Hermione sighed. "The thought of him meddling with the timeline is admittedly frightening. But there are other, equally dangerous things in the Department of Mysteries that oughtn't be meddled with. Anything he wants from inside can't be good news."
"Essence of Thought, maybe?" Eva wondered aloud.
"No, certainly not that," Hermione laughed. "He's repulsed by the stuff, which is a whole other story I won't get into. Not that it's too difficult to obtain, as you learned last winter."
Eva reddened at this remark. "You knew I checked it out?" she asked.
"Of course; I asked the Unspeakables to notify me immediately if anyone did," Hermione said. "But I also told them that any Muggle-born student who asked for it was allowed to take it."
"You did?" Eva asked, eyebrows raising at the remark. "But why?"
"Essence of Thought was only banned after I published my book," said Hermione. "Its applications beyond the Draught of Omniscience are fairly limited. But I knew someone would come along to further my research, most likely a Muggle-born who didn't buy into Potter's beliefs on the subject."
"Potter knew I'd checked it out, too," Eva muttered. "But I didn't get in trouble. In fact, he seemed to encourage it."
"I expect that he would," Hermione nodded. "He thought you might be able to aid him in his research."
Eva thought back to her meeting with Headmaster Potter earlier that year, watching the phoenix Archimedes' rebirth. "That's why he let me study your book," Eva realized aloud. "He wanted me to brew the Draught of Omniscience. To study the language of magic."
"Yes," Hermione confirmed. "He suspected – for good reason – that you would be more attuned to it than most."
"But why?" asked Eva. "Why am I more attuned to it than most people? And don't just say because I have powerful parents; I don't buy that rubbish." It had been bothering her for months now, and she still could not understand it. Why could she see those currents of magical energy so clearly, even without the Draught of Omniscience active in her system? And why was she able to use magic so freely without draining her magical core, as Roxanne called it?
"It has everything to do with your parents, Eva," said Hermione. "Not who they are, but what they did. You must understand that if I'd known I was pregnant with you, I never would have experimented with the Draught of Omniscience so often. But I suspect that you experienced some of the effects of the potion in the womb, which is why you are able to use the Sight even without the potion. Using it properly the first time simply helped your brain make better sense of it."
"And my stamina?" asked Eva. "I've never felt 'drained' from using my magic before…"
"Neither does your father," Hermione pointed out. "He was not born that way, of course; no one is. But in his quest to defeat Voldemort, he performed terrible rituals on his body to increase his abilities, his reflexes, and yes, his stamina. These rituals permanently altered his genetic makeup, and he passed such heightened abilities onto you."
"So I'm some sort of genetic freak?" Eva demanded, suddenly feeling extremely exposed. "More powerful than the average witch?"
"In many respects, yes," said Hermione. "Your father has near-infinite stamina, but lacks the ability to use the Sight without actively consuming the Draught. I built up an affinity to the Draught through my exhaustive testing and no longer need to drink it to use the Sight, but never had the stamina to do so for very long. It took the two of us together to take down Voldemort, but in theory, you have the potential to be more powerful than all three of us."
Eva didn't want to hear this. All her life, she'd wanted nothing more than to just be ordinary. Learning she was a witch meant ostracizing her from all the neighborhood kids she grew up with. Excelling in her classes meant earning the jealous ire of her classmates at both Willoughby and Hogwarts. And now, learning that she was some kind of super-witch, she feared that she would never find acceptance in the wizarding community, and was doomed to a lifetime of being put on a pedestal.
"What do you want from me?" she asked. Tears were beginning to well up in her eyes, and she'd never felt more alone than she did in this moment. "Why can't you all just leave me be?"
Hermione stood from her chair and walked around the desk towards Eva. She knelt beside the girl and wrapped her in a comforting embrace. Eva leaned into the touch, marveling at the gentle softness of her touch, the warmth and compassion radiating from the Minister. This is my mother, Eva remembered, and she closed her eyes, basking in the feeling of being held by a parent, a feeling she thought she'd never experience again in her lifetime.
Then, just as abruptly, Eva pulled away. She remembered the circumstances that brought her here. The sixteen years spent in the dark. Being left alone in Australia. Being dragged back to Britain against her will, to serve as some kind of pawn in this power struggle between two quarreling lovers. It was a betrayal, no matter how she looked at it. Eva couldn't give a damn that they were her parents. They were still strangers to her, and she saw no reason to help them.
"I know you didn't ask for any of this," Hermione said comfortingly, as though reading Eva's angry thoughts. "You've been thrust into this conflict without asking for it. I would not be asking anything of you if it wasn't so important to the future of wizarding kind – no, of all humankind."
"I won't fight anyone for you," said Eva adamantly. "I don't like fighting."
"Nothing of the sort," Hermione assured her. "I just need to know what your Headmaster is up to. You're closer to him than most – maybe anybody aside from myself. He knows you're his daughter and will be looking to keep you in his good graces. He may even come to trust you enough to share what he's up to."
"So you want me to spy on him."
Hermione could not hide the wince at this blunt remark. "I know I haven't exactly proven my trustworthiness to you," she sighed. "I wouldn't blame you for wanting nothing to do with me after tonight. But look at what's happening in the world around us. There's another war coming, and I'm doing everything in my power to prevent further bloodshed."
"Everything?" Eva asked dryly. "Like pandering to Muggle Presidents overseas?"
"Reading the Prophet, are we?" Hermione said grimly. "There is much more happening behind the scenes than the public realizes, Eva. These Muggle attacks are not random. Someone is orchestrating all of this chaos, and they hope to gain something from it. If they aren't careful, they could undo all our efforts to keep the peace in the past decade."
"You think Potter is intentionally stoking the flames with the Muggles?" asked Eva skeptically.
"I'd never be able to prove it, nor do I intend to try," said Hermione. "But he mustn't win this election. Right now I'm the only thing standing between him and whatever he's after in the Department of Mysteries. I can't risk the safety of the community by letting him do whatever he wants."
"So you want me to ask what it is he's after?"
"No, that would likely tip your hand," said Hermione. "Just keep your ears open, and see if he gives you any more hints as to what he's after. If I can figure it out before the election, maybe I can find a way to delay him."
Eva considered this. She still didn't fully trust Granger, but her words did ring as authentic. Eva too had become concerned with Potter's erratic behavior and secretive projects. She didn't love the idea of spying on her Headmaster – her father, for that matter – but he had done his own fair share of deceiving Eva over the past year.
She had the sudden urge to seek Roxanne's advice on the matter, only to realize that she might be the worst possible person to confide this information in. Not only would she immediately tell the Headmaster, she'd be the first to remind Eva that one's loyalties should not automatically lie with their parents. General Beckett was proof positive of that.
"I'll think about it," Eva finally said. "This is all a lot to handle."
"I understand," Hermione said sympathetically. "If you ever decide to talk to me again, just ask Professor Lovegood or Abbott, and they'll help you get in touch. Just keep in mind that the election is in less than five months, so we can't afford to waste much time."
"D'you really think he'll win?" Eva asked. "The Prophet thinks so, but it's clearly biased."
"I'm not sure," Hermione sighed. "Potter's fans are loud and prominent in society, but the majority of Britain's magical community is half-blood or less. They're still fresh off of Voldemort's 'Magic is Might' nonsense and might not take too kindly to his aggressive rhetoric."
"It is still Harry Potter we're talking about, though," Eva chuckled. "He killed Voldemort after all."
"Actually no, he didn't," Hermione corrected. "That's the official version of events, but Lord Voldemort did not die that day."
"But he did die in the end," said Eva. "After you found the Horcruxes, right?"
Hermione surveyed Eva with an odd expression. "Perhaps it would be easiest to just show you," she said. She bent down to retrieve something from within her desk; Eva thought she would emerge with a Pensieve to view a memory, but instead she pulled out a small mirror, similar to the one that had transported Eva here.
"I promise I won't try to trick you with this one," Hermione said with a strained smile. "Portus." She tapped her wand to the mirror, and it glowed bright blue for a second before returning to its original state.
"Where will this one take me?" Eva asked skeptically.
"Austria," said Hermione, holding out the makeshift Portkey for her to touch. "It's time for you to meet Tom Riddle for yourself."
