Hermione Granger and the Ancient Magic

A Harry Potter story

Summary: Ever since she was young, Hermione Granger was followed by swirling vortices of blue light nobody else could see. Even when she'd finally arrived at Hogwarts, she was still the only one to notice them, so she said nothing. It wasn't until a chance encounter with Professor Dumbledore during her third year that she stared to get some long-awaited answers.

Ever since she was a young girl, Hermione Granger was fascinated by… well, basically everything. The world around her, all the different people in it, the places, the histories, anything and everything she could learn, she did. Even if, in the back of her little mind, she'd kind of thought she'd follow in her parents' footsteps and become a dentist, it didn't stop her from yearning for that knowledge.

Strange things happened around Hermione, things she couldn't explain. Like a book that was just out of reach flying into her hand; or a stain on one of the pages suddenly vanishing; or this one time when a boy from her primary school had tried to tease her by stealing her pencil and running away, he'd tripped, and the pencil flew out of his hand and landed on her table.

It wasn't until she was eleven that she'd started to understand.

A woman came to the Granger household one evening during the summer, after Hermione had finished primary school. She was tall and fierce, dressed in some sort of emerald-green long-sleeved dress with a pointy hat on her head. She'd introduced herself as Professor Minerva McGonagall, and promptly told Hermione she had magic, sipping her tea calmly in the living room, faced with an awed young girl and her bewildered parents. Their skepticism lasted long enough for the Professor to change all the teacups into a myriad of colors with a wave of a stick she pulled from her sleeve.

Young Hermione was hooked.

First year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was rough, at least in the beginning. Not the classes. No, the classes had been fascinating and Hermione had quickly garnered the reputation of being a know-it-all teacher's pet (and, really, there were far worse things one could be). It was the other students that were the problem. It turned out that wizarding kids were hardly better than muggle ones. Indeed, in some green-clad cases they could be worse.

If ever anyone deserved a punch to the face, it was Malfoy.

Then Halloween came, and with it a troll, and with that a couple of stupid boys that risked their lives to save her. For the first time in her life, Hermione had lied to a teacher that night. And for the first time in her life, she had friends.

One of her boys was named Ronald Weasley. He was red-headed and gangly, sixth out of seven children from an old, if poor, wizarding family, with a good heart and a good head for chess, and plenty of common knowledge. If only he could apply himself to his schoolwork.

The other boy was Harry Potter, wild black hair and striking green eyes, with a distinctive and famous bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. He was brave, if somewhat foolish, with a kind heart. He was renowned for killing a dark wizard when he was an infant, although maybe it was more realistic to say he was renowned for failing to be killed by said dark wizard, which was an interesting thought, but probably not one he'd appreciate. He'd grown up with his Muggle family, an aunt and uncle who were less than kind to him from what Hermione could tell (not that the boy complained much), and seemed to have a knack for flying, even becoming the youngest seeker in a century. His eyes really lit up when she'd shown him his father's name on one of the old Quidditch trophies.

They were her boys, her brothers, and she'd follow them to the ends of the earth, and she was sure they'd do the same for her. Somebody had to keep them alive, after all.

Together, the three of them had faced a remnant of the same dark wizard that had killed Harry's parents, a man called Lord Voldemort (who the majority of wizardkind called 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named', which Hermione thought was just a bit silly), who had managed to possess one of their teachers, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor named Quirinus Quirrell. Ironically enough. He was after the Philosopher's Stone, a powerful gem made by the greatest alchemist still alive, centuries old Nicolas Flamel. Their teachers had protected the stone, each adding a specialized layer to the security related to the subject they taught. McGonagall, who taught Transfiguration, had transfigured a gigantic chess set; the Charms teacher, Professor Filius Flitwick, had enchanted keys to fly; while Severus Snape, the cantankerous Potions teacher, had made a logic puzzle with potions of various sizes. There was also a large Venomous Tentacula, which was probably supplied by the Herbology professor, Pomona Sprout, while Rubeus Hagrid, the Hogwarts groundkeeper, had brought the huge three-headed dog. They'd passed a knocked-out troll at one point, which Hermione suspected was put there by Professor Quirrell, who turned out to be the bad guy, so that layer of security was less than helpful. Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, might've had something to do with the magic mirror at the very end, but that was purely speculation. Hermione really had to ask him one day.

Ron had managed to beat the chess game, Harry had caught the small flying key among hundreds of other keys, and the logic puzzle was Hermione's forte, but in the end, it fell on Harry to stop Voldemort. Hermione had returned to Ron, who sacrificed himself to let them pass, and waited there until Dumbledore came. He glanced at them before hurrying onward.

Second year was just as stressful. Harry had a problem with a house-elf, which was not something Hermione came upon in her readings, who'd done everything he could to stop the boy from attending school, and later, when that failed, to keep him in the hospital wing. Meanwhile, the walls were haunted by voices only Harry could hear, which wasn't a good sign even in the wizarding world, according to Ron. Hermione had done some digging in the school library, a favorite spot of hers, which she'd spend much of her free time in. One unfortunate event had helped, when a sign was written in blood on the walls, announcing the Heir of Slytherin. Many thought it was Harry himself, which was ridiculous, even if he could talk to snakes. In their search for the real Heir Hermione had to make an advanced potion, hiding in a broken-down bathroom for a month to do it. She'd made a mistake when picking up the hair the potion needed, but the boys were successful, and they'd learned their main suspect, Draco Malfoy (who still deserved the punch to the face, even if he wasn't the Heir of Slytherin), was innocent. In the end, Hermione still managed to gather enough clues to get to the real answer, but before she could tell her boys, she was petrified, and they were on their own. They'd succeeded, as she knew they would, and Hogwarts was saved once more.

In the end, Hermione decided not to tell them about the blue lights.

Hermione's parents had taken her to Stonehenge on her fourth birthday, and she had been overwhelmed by a blue glow. It was everywhere at the ancient site, swirling in the air like carnival lights. Nobody else had paid any attention to it, walking through the vortices like they weren't there, and Hermione decided not to mention it. Since then, there were a few more sightings, in the countryside when the Granger family went on holidays, or in London itself when they'd went shopping. It only got worse when she'd gotten to Hogwarts. The blue glow was everywhere. She could see it in the air in the courtyard, on a few of the walls, classrooms, swirling around the bathroom where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets turned out to be.

Still, Hermione never mentioned anything, and probably never would have, out of sheer habit if nothing else, had Professor Dumbledor not notice sometime during her third year.

Third year was problematic. A madman escaped Azkaban, the most secure wizarding prison in Britain, and was stalking Harry. Since no adult had wanted to give them an honest answer, the trio had to take matters into their own hands, and had managed to eavesdrop on a meeting between some professors and the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Sirius Black, the first man to ever escape Azkaban, was Harry's godfather and secret-keeper to his parents. He'd sold them out to Voldemort, causing their deaths. Harry was, understandably, devastated.

Their current professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, a position that changed every year, was also a friend of Harry's parents when they were younger, and of Sirius Black as well. He was often ill, and once had even been forced to ask Professor Snape to cover him during a class. They'd covered werewolves that day, even thought they were at the back of the textbook, presumably intended for later in the year, which had gotten Hermione's wheels turning. She had to get to the library.

After finding the book she was looking for, she couldn't wait to get back to her common room, and was skimming through it while walking. She took a wrong turn at some point, and found herself on the seventh floor, colliding directly with the headmaster.

"Oof." She fell to the ground, dropping the book. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, sir."

"It's quite alright, Miss Granger, thought I would caution you to watch where you're going in the future. A love of books is well and good, but there is a time and a place for everything." He handed her the book back. "That's an interesting book you've chosen. 'The Effects of Lycanthropy on Wizards'."

"Yes, I became very interested in the subject when…" She trailed off, a large blue glow catching her attention on one of the walls, opposite a tapestry with trolls on it.

"Miss Granger?" Professor Dumbledore turned his head to the side as well.

"Sorry, sir. I became interested in the topic when Professor Snape covered werewolves in a class, so I thought I'd read up on the subject."

"I see. I would recommend 'Hairy Snout, Human Heart' if you would like to see what it is like from their perspective. Good day, Miss Granger."

"I'll look into it as well. Good day sir." Taking the dismissal, she'd started walking off.

"Oh, Miss Granger?" The headmaster stopped her when she'd gotten to the other side of the blue glow.

"Yes, sir?"

"I'd like to see you in my office later today. Say after dinner?"

"Sir, if it's about Professor- "

"It is not, Miss Granger. You're not in any trouble, I would just like to see to something for myself. After dinner, Miss Granger." He paused. "I am rather fond of Sherbet Pips." He said idly, before walking off.

"Sherbet… Pips?" Hermione repeated dumbly as the man walked off.

Later that day, Hermione stood in front of the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the headmaster's office, clutching the last bag of sweets she had left over.

"Hello?" She spoke to the gargoyle, feeling less silly than she would've before she found out the portraits in Hogwarts talked. "The headmaster called for me."

"What's the password?" The gargoyle spoke back, tilting its head at her.

"The password? Well, I don't…" She glanced down at the bag in her hand, before she looked up and blinked at the gargoyle, a flat expression on her face. "Is it Sherbet Pips?" The gargoyle said nothing, but moved up, revealing a spiraling staircase.

The headmaster's office was fascinating, and Hermione could spend hours in it, just wandering from place to place, learning all she could. The walls were lined with portraits, the people in them all turning their attention to her. Dumbledore was standing off to the side, conversing with a brown-haired woman that stood in one.

"Ah, Miss Granger, just in time." He turned to her with a small smile, blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses. He blinked when Hermione offered him a small grey bag.

"Here, sir. I misunderstood your last comment, and had one bag left over. My parents don't let me have sweets often, you see. They're dentists." Hermione was still a little annoyed at herself, but she'd brought the sweets, so they may as well have a use. "Healers for teeth." She'd added at the end, used to blank stares she'd get from other wizards.

Dumbledore gave out a small laugh as he opened the bag, taking out a pink pip and popping it into his mouth. He'd offered the bag to Hermione, and she took one as well.

"That's very considerate of you, Miss Granger, thank you. Now, as I've said, you're not here because of Professor Lupin, although I commend you for figuring his secret out, I'm sure that was what Severus was hoping for."

"He's not a very nice man, sir. Respectfully." Hermione had no idea why the man was still a teacher after how he treated some students, but Dumbledore probably had his reasons.

"No, I don't suppose he is." The man answered simply. "Nevertheless, we must turn our attention to more urgent matters. This is Professor Niamh Fitzgerald, who served as Headmistress of Hogwarts during the Tudor period, and was involved in an incident during the 19th century, in portrait form of course."

"Sir, if I may ask… why am I here?"

"Miss Granger, have you noticed something off about the wall on the seventh-floor corridor, on the other side of the troll tapestry? I am told it's a blue glow, that it swirls in the air at some places."

"I thought nobody else could see it." Hermione nervously anticipated the answers to questions she had since she was four. "Can you see them as well?"

"Unfortunately, I cannot."

"Professor Fitzgerald, then?"

"Neither can I." The woman's voice had an Irish lilt. "But in my life, I knew of a man that could. A colleague of mine, Percival Rackham, who taught Divination while I was headmistress."

"Divination." The current Divination professor, Sybil Trelawney, rubbed Hermione the wrong way almost instantly, and she'd lasted a relatively short time before abandoning the subject completely.

"I am aware of your… distaste for the subject, Miss Granger." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in mirth. "You are much like Professor McGonagall when it comes to the subject." If it was any other time, Hermione would've preened at the comparison to her favorite professor. "But this is very real, I assure you."

"Professor Dumbledore mentioned your love for knowledge, Miss Granger." The portrait spoke up. "Tell me, have you ever encountered mentions of Ancient Magic in your readings?"

I played thought Hogwarts Legacy when it came out, and it was overall a fine game, with some fun parts, but I don't know if I'll ever return to it. Still, this idea stuck in my head, and I think I'm the first one to do it. Maybe not with Harry, but since he's not the subject of these Chronicles, we have Hermione with the ability to see Ancient Magic. The rest of book three will probably be skimmed, focusing on Hermione's training, and the plot proper will begin at book four.

I've been on vacation last week, and it did wonders for my writing, so expect more stuff soon.