Beta love to CarbConnoisseur.

"Alastor watched Hermione warily as they ate breakfast. She was subdued and pale, picking at her food disinterestedly.

"Unless something happens, I am training new recruits in the Ministry today," he voiced, sounding far too loud as he broke the silence. "Come and see me if you need to."

"I'm not interrupting you at work!" She sounded scandalised, which almost made him smile.

"Nonsense! You're due a rematch with the twins, and it would do the recruits good to have another duelling style to contend with." She hummed, refraining from commenting. "I mean it, Hermione," he warned.

"I know," she sighed.

He nodded. "Your grandmother will be expecting you within the hour. Go and get ready. I'll warn her I expect you to eat lunch."

It worried him more than he cared to admit that she didn't complain about him being high-handed as she left the room.

"Well then hen, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." Janet McGonagall's eyes roamed over the drawn face of her granddaughter and wondered what on earth had happened now. Alastor's warning about ensuring the lass ate rang in her ears. "Sit yourself down. The kettle is on. Your Grandfather was just away helping young Callum. The bairn has had a slight issue with some accidental magic and part of the house needed to be put right again."

"Ah," Hermione murmured, complying with the command to sit. "Are they alright?"

"Aye, I'm sure they're fine. It's not the first time they've had an argument and blown the windows. Now, why don't you tell me what's put that look upon your face and then we can move on to undoubtedly more pleasant topics."

"What? I… I'm fine," Hermione insisted.

"Aye, and I'm the Queen," Janet retorted sharply. "Spit it out." Hermione gaped at her grandmother, recognising the stubborn set of her jaw. Did all the McGonagall women learn it? "I'll give ye until I've poured the tea," Janet commanded, "And then I want an explanation."

Hermione watched warily as her grandmother returned, pointedly setting down two mugs on the table in front of them. "Now then. What's happened this time?"

Knowing from her interactions with her Aunt Minerva over the years that it was pointless to argue with a McGonagall woman with that particular look on their face, Hermione sighed. Nothing was going to stop this woman from ferreting out what was going on inside her head. "I met someone yesterday," she began.

"Aye," Janet murmured before looking at her shrewdly. "Normally that's a good thing lass."

"He was… funny and intelligent."

"Again, good things."

"In my time he was dead," Hermione ended bluntly.

"Less good," Janet sighed. "So what are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know!" Hermione exclaimed. "I know he died. I don't know how. I don't know who did it! I don't know anything fucking useful!"

"Language! Your great-grandfather, may his soul rest in peace, was a Minister. It's best to get into the habit of mindin' your tongue now. Merlin knows Isobel can be militant about it still. As for not knowing anything useful, I disagree."

"How?" Hermione asked slightly desperately.

"You know he does die. I imagine you have at least an idea of when. So let's see what we can change to ensure it doesn't happen. I assume he cannot yet be told the truth?"

"No. I… I don't know if he can ever be told the truth."

Janet's eyebrows rose. "Well surely one day, hen?"

Hermione frowned at her. "Why?"

"Well if things progress the usual way, he'll need to be told," her grandmother informed her, still looking confused.

"The usual…" Comprehension dawned on Hermione's face. "He's not… we're not… he was a friend of the twins that work with my father. Alex and I agreed to have lunch with them."

Janet snorted. "That's often how it starts lass. Now does this man have a name?"

"Caradoc Dearborn," Hermione sighed, wondering why she was bothering to argue with a woman who had quite clearly made up her mind.

"Ah. His family is Welsh, I believe?"

"Based on his accent."

Janet hummed. "Arwyn Dearborn was in my year at Hogwarts. He married later in life. His wife is much younger than him. I wonder if he's related to this Caradoc of yours."

"He's not mine!"

"Of course if he is," Janet continued blithely as if she hadn't spoken. "You could do much worse. Arwyn was a delightful man. Ravenclaw, absurdly intelligent but willing to help those that needed it."

Hermione groaned. "Can we stop…."

"Of course," Jane agreed magnanimously. "Tell me about these twins."

"Oh for the love of Circe," Hermione groused. "The Prewett twins work with Dad. Uncle Charlus and I duelled them earlier in the week."

"Why? And who won?"

"Because they challenged us to a duel when I duelled Kingsley. And them. Unfortunately. Dad's going to see if they'll help with training." Hermione shrugged as if that explained everything.

"I see. Their sister's much older than them, is she not?" Janet mused.

A small flash of pain crossed Hermione's face. "Molly is twenty-seven I think. So, six years?"

"Of course you knew her," Janet stated, remembering some of the stories about the Weasleys her granddaughter had told.

Hermione nodded. "She was like a second mother most of the time."

"And you miss her," Janet sighed.

"Yes. I miss them all."

"Then why not ask those twins to take you along to get reacquainted with the witch?"

"How?'' Hermione asked incredulously. "I barely know them"

"Get to know them. You need friends Hermione, outwith Alex Potter."

"It's hard," she admitted. "What if they all hate me when I can't save someone they love?"

"Oh lass," Janet sighed, cursing her daughter for what her granddaughter had been forced to endure. "I don't have all the answers. I wish I did. But a true friend will see that you tried. You cannot lock yourself away from everyone, my girl. You have to trust people. Perhaps if your mother had we wouldn't be here."

"What?" Hermione asked, startled.

"The spell is an old one," Janet began thoughtfully, clearly choosing her words with care. "Cast on a babe shortly after birth. It… I don't think any of us anticipated it sending a bairn into the future, but it is designed to keep a child safe. I know that your mother worried about the war and the safety of your father's job. I assume that's why she cast it. But there were other options. So many other options that wouldn't have seen you grow up away from us, and I wish to Merlin she'd trusted us enough to talk it through."

"Can I see the spell?"

Janet sighed. "Aye. Although not until your grandfather's back. While I can touch the grimoire, it's more cooperative with blood. It would be better for him to show you the first time."

Hermione hummed. "I see. It's… it's like a whole other world. Grimoires were never mentioned at school. I've never seen one. The first person to mention one was Sirius and even then it was in passing."

Janet sighed. "Aye well, Albus favours a more sanitised curriculum."

"You disagree?

"Traditions are being lost," Janet began diplomatically. "I think there is a middle ground to be had between both sides but neither wants to concede."

"I see."

"Do you? I am not against muggleborns, lass. I just think that they need to be taught about the world they're entering. We keep too many secrets and they… don't realise they are offending people with the ignorance no one has bothered to correct."

Hermione bristled automatically but held her tongue as she turned the woman's words over in her head. She wasn't wrong.

"Janet!" a voice called interrupting her internal musings.

"That'll be your grandfather back then, lass. Why he feels the need to bawl for me the minute he leaves the floo I'll never know."

In spite of herself, Hermione smiled. "Janet!"

"Oh, for the love of Morgana," Janet muttered, before raising her voice. "I'm in the front room! Surely you can manage to find it without instruction?"

"There you are!" Robert smiled as he walked through the door.

"Do you see what I put up with?" Janet turned exasperatedly to look at her granddaughter, pleased to see that she at least looked a bit more lively than she had when she arrived.

Robert faltered, his eyes swinging to the clock before they widened. "Mo sholas! I didn't realise it was so late."

Hermione smiled slightly. "How are the children?"

Robert waved her off. "They're fine. And the windows are fine now too. Honestly, they fight like kneazles and crups; it's not the first time. They've asked to meet you. Apparently, Callum told them all about their terrifying older cousin. Wee Josie and Isla want some tips to get back at Lachlan."

Hermione looked startled for a moment before she laughed. "I wonder how unethical it would be to teach them the tricks Gin used against her brothers growing up."

"Gin?"

"Ginny Weasely, she's… she will be Molly and Arthur's youngest. Given that she had six brothers, she learned to fight dirty."

Robert snorted. "Unethical though it might be, you'd have friends for life. Will you agree to meet them before Christmas?"

"Callum had intended to ask you over. They're just… wary of overwhelming you," Janet chimed in. "He was your favourite though. For all you were joined to Alex Potter's hip, Callum was the one who doted on you. He used to send you letters from Hogwarts for your mother to read to you, along with sweeties from Honeydukes." Janet's eyes misted slightly before her mouth quirked into a wry smirk. "Of course, given the age gap I'm relatively sure he used you to get Hogsmeade dates, which was part of the reason he adored you. Your mother used to take you along to meet the boys. Callum was a fifth year when you were born, Scott was in his third, and Callum used to tot you up and down Hogsmeade on his hip. You were such a bonnie bairn, all curls and eyes and the witches loved it."

Surprised, Hermione laughed. "Gods. I don't know whether to be mortified or congratulate him on his ingenuity."

Janet laughed. "Aye well, the boy's been with his Sarah since sixth year, so it worked. They really would like to get to know you again. Callum especially feels like he let you down. You were his baby cousin and he was supposed to protect you. He feels like he failed."

"But he didn't! He couldn't have known…"

"We know, lass. But feelings are illogical things." Hermione pulled a face when her grandmother looked at her pointedly. "We often feel responsible for things that are not our fault."

Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes in response. "You're not subtle, you know."

"I wasn't aware I was trying to be," Janet shot back.

"What have I missed?" Robert asked bewildered.

"Your granddaughter is taking on responsibility for the entire world," Janet replied caustically, "Because every death has to be her fault."

Robert blinked, aware that something had clearly been said if the lass had been reduced to his granddaughter. "Alright," he nodded.

"She met a boy yesterday," Janet supplied

"I did not meet a boy!" Hermione protested.

"Oh do excuse me," Janet apologised insincerely, waving her cup. "Your granddaughter met a man."

Hermione groaned, dropping her head into her hands, as Robert looked between them, "What man?" he demanded.

"A Caradoc Dearborn, I had wondered if he was Arwyn's boy."

"He is," Robert nodded with a frown, eyeing his granddaughter who shifted uncomfortably under his stare.

"See!" Janet crowed triumphantly. "You could do much worse, my girl!"

"Could do… Absolutely not!" Robert interjected. "She's too young!"

"She's older than Alisa was."

"Aye, and I wasn't overly impressed wi' that either if ye mind."

"Hypocrite," Janet chided fondly.

"The right of all parents," Robert shot back.

"Dear God," Hermione muttered. "He's a friend of the Prewett twins. We're not… it's not… you're worse than Alex!"

Janet laughed. "Ye can't blame me for wanting you settled and happy. The things you told us were awful. You deserve something good."

"But that's not Caradoc Dearborn!"

"Why not? It could be," Janet insisted stubbornly.

Hermione groaned, turning to look pleadingly at her grandfather. "Make her stop."

Robert snorted, looking torn. "If I knew how to manage that, mo sholas, things would be very different. As it is, your grandmother's a law unto herself. All McGonagall women are. No doubt she'll teach you their ways. Bunch o' terrifying' harpies the lot o' them. Now, tell me about this boy."

"There's nothing to tell," Hermione groaned. "I met him when I was shopping with Alex. We had lunch. I remembered he was dead by 1981."

Robert grimaced, but it was Janet who spoke. "You weren't here last time. That has to have changed something. Now, when are you intending to meet this boy again."

Hermione's shoulders slumped. "Tomorrow," she sighed, giving in to the inevitable.

Janet's face lit up. "And here you were tryin' to make me believe there was nothing there!"

"There isn't! He's… intelligent and he can keep up with me. That's rare. He's doing a dual mastery and I had wondered if some of his research is what allows potions I know are coming to be developed."

Janet smiled slightly. "You think rather highly of a boy you've met once."

Hermione sighed. "Do you know how exhausting it is to always have to dumb yourself down when speaking to people? How nice it is to have someone who challenges the way you think rather than you being the person everyone looks to for the answers?"

Janet blinked. "I can't say I do," she murmured.

Hermione shrugged awkwardly. "The twins remind me of Fred and George. It's… both jarring and comforting. Even Alex has enough similarities to remind me of Harry. Caradoc… I have no connection to him. It didn't hurt to look at him… Oh not like that!" she exclaimed when her grandmother smirked. "You know what I mean! I didn't look at him and see the echo of a ghost. Add that he could not only keep up with me but force me to think? That's… that's refreshing in a way I can't explain."

Robert sighed, shooting his wife a censoring look. "It must be difficult, mo sholas, and if this boy… man… helps at all, I'll reserve judgement."

Hermione hummed. "You'd be the only one. Alex isn't happy. Sodding hypocrite."

Janet snorted. "The boy always did think you belonged to him. Good luck with that one lassie. Now, why don't you go with your Grandfather and have a look at that book while I sort lunch? Your father flooed before you arrived and I've been warned to ensure you eat."

Hermione sighed as she rolled her eyes, muttering something about overly involved, overprotective arses that made Janet laugh. "Off with you. I'll expect you back in half an hour!"

Silently, Hermione followed her grandfather from the room. "What do you think this will achieve, lass?" Robert asked curiously.

Hermione shrugged. "Nothing probably, I just… I just needed to see it. I discussed it with ah…" she paused, not quite sure how to refer to her grandmother.

"Your grandmother?" Robert prompted.

"Yes, she said there were other options?"

"Aye," he sighed. "I have no idea why Alisa chose the most extreme one, although none of us could have predicted what the ritual would actually do."

"It's not clear?"

"No. It mentions… safety if I remember correctly." Hermione made an indistinct sound of acknowledgement, turning that over inside her head. "Lass?" her head shot to her grandfather's. "You… you can call us what you like, you know, but… once upon a time, you called us Gran and Granda, perhaps you'll consider it?"

Forcing herself not to tense, Hermione nodded. "I'll try," she murmured. "It's… I know you're angry with Aunt Minerva, but… before… she was more than my Professor. I wonder now if magic played a part in that, but that relationship makes it easier to fall into one here. With everyone else?" her hands fluttered agitatedly in front of her. "I'm trying to build them from nothing. And there's rather a lot of you." Robert snorted, even as he felt a jolt of pain at her words. "I was the only child of only children. My grandparents were dead long before I was born… arrived… I had no cousins, no aunts, no uncles, nothing. It was just me and mum and Dad, and even then, they were busy. I appeared later in their lives when they'd given up on having children. They ran a busy and successful dental practice, and I… I sometimes got in the way of that. I had several nannies growing up, but none of them stayed long. Accidental magic is hard to explain, especially when we didn't even know what it was. It makes this… overwhelming. I had no friends before Hogwarts. I've spent more of my life alone than I have with people, and even then, I always knew that I was… disposable."

"What?" Robert barked.

Hermione shook her head, frustrated with her inability to get her point across. "Harry and Ron were each other's first friends. Harry was my best friend, but I wasn't his. I wasn't anyone's. I had friends, don't get me wrong, some really good friends, and eventually Harry became like family, but… I'm not… not used to this… this level of people who… who care, who want to be involved."

Robert frowned. "You said the Weasleys were like family."

"And they were," Hermione nodded. "But… In my fourth year, a journalist wrote a sensationalist article, accusing me of breaking Harry's heart with the Durmstrang champion. It was a complete fabrication of course, but I got hate mail for it. And Molly Weasley believed it. They were like family in a lot of ways, but I always knew my place was conditional."

"Mother of Merlin," Robert breathed. "And Sirius Black?"

"Was Harry's godfather. He would, understandably, always come first."

Robert nodded slowly, trying to ignore how much his heart hurt listening to the girl that carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, while not getting nearly enough in return before he tugged her forward and hugged her tightly. "Your place here is not conditional," he whispered. "There is nothing that you could ever do to make us give you up." Hermione tensed for a moment before she sunk into the hug, only now realising just how much she desperately needed to hear those words.

"Thanks… Granda," she whispered.

Roberts' arms spasmed as he hugged her tighter, allowing a small feeling of peace to drive out the tension he had gathered listening to her speak. She was here. She was staying. She was going to let them in.

"Come on mo sholas, let's go look at this infernal book."

Hermione nodded against his chest, allowing him to release her as she followed him over to the oldest-looking book she'd ever seen. "It's handwritten, all of it." Robert explained. "If you ever invent anything, you add it to the back page and the book will consider it."

"Consider it? You make it sound like it's sentient."

"It is in a way," Robert replied thoughtfully. "I don't know the magic that went into it. I don't know if other family grimoires are the same. But this one, our one, decides what it will keep and what it won't."

"Wow," she murmured, running a finger over the front of the book. "Is that… gold?"

"Aye, Goblin forged from what we can tell. The engravings were done by hand, not magic. See the border?" Hermione's eyes followed her grandfather's finger as he began to point to the carved figures embedded in the highly decorated border of the book. "We think that they represent the family who started it. Baltair, with the book. From what we can gather, he was a scholar. His wife, Aillis in the top right corner with the spinning wheel. His sons Fearghas, Griogair, Muireach, and Iain going down the sides. And his two daughters, Raonaid and Marsaili, in the corners."

"And the people in the centre?" Hermione asked, examining the hollowed-out middle of the cover that had three prominent figures carved into the gold.

"We don't know," Robert confessed. "There are many theories. Perhaps they're ancestors, perhaps they are Gods."

"How did you determine that the people on the outside were family?"

"Oh, there's a record, very old and in the vaults. Letters from Aillis to her sister stating Bailtair's intentions and how amusing she found it that he'd insisted on her spinning wheel."

"Oh," Hermione murmured.

"It makes me think that those three were their gods."

Hermione hummed, dragging a finger lightly over the middle figure. She jolted when the book shocked her. Roberts' eyes widened. "Well, it's never done that before."

Hermione looked at him in horror. "What does it mean!"

"I have no idea lass. You could ask it?"

"Ask it?"

"Aye," he nodded. "Often if we're not sure of what we're looking for, we ask it and it… gives suggestions."

Wide-eyed and feeling foolish, Hermione eyed the book. "What do you want me to know?" she tried, suppressing a startled scream when the book opened abruptly, the pages spinning before they stopped.

"Holy shit," she breathed moving closer cautiously. "String connection?" she frowned, reading the title. "I don't understand."

Robert frowned moving closer, reading over her shoulder. "Used to provide aid to those who are in trouble," he murmured.

"So I could… what… make it so I'm called if someone needs assistance?"

"Aye," Robert mused. "It wanted you to know for a reason, who's likely to need help?"

"Gods, how long have you got!" Hermione groaned.

Robert hummed. "Right then, that's not particularly helpful. We'll need to work on narrowing it down."

"Alright," she sighed, wondering how on Earth she was going to manage that. "I can… come back and check this, can't I?"

"Of course, lass. It'll be there when you need it."

"Is there anything else?" Hermione tried, eying the book warily.

The pages flipped. "Familial protection spell," she murmured.

"I'd forgotten about that one," Robert mused. "You can… use it on anyone who isn't blood family but you consider family nonetheless."

"Oh, like Alex?"

"Aye or your father."

"But he is blood family," Hermione frowned.

"He's not a Ross."

"Oh," Hermione breathed, understanding. "It's not been done?"

"Not that I know of. Perhaps something to rectify?"

Hermione hummed. "Anything else?"

The pages flipped again, taking her by surprise when she read the title. "Oh very funny," she muttered.

"Soulmate spell?" Robert queried, despite looking amused. "Not one I've ever tried."

"For the love of Merlin don't let… Gran hear that that exists."

Snorting, Robert ran his eyes down the methodology. "Simple enough. Pearl dust, moonstone, and rose thorns brewed for thirty minutes in a silver caldron under the presence of a new moon. Drunk within two hours of brewing."

"Oh, we're not taking that seriously!" Hermione scoffed.

"What've you to lose lass? The book wanted you to see if for a reason."

Hermione whined. "But it's… why?"

"I have no idea," Robert admitted. "It'll have its reasons."

Sighing, Hermione turned back to the book. "Anything else?"

It flipped again. "New bairn safekeeping," she murmured. "Oh. Oh is this….?"

"Aye," Robert agreed. "For the safety of a bairn in the direst of circumstances," he mumbled, skimming the explanation.

"Be warned," Hermione picked up, reading the warning under the title that looked to have been added after the original ritual, "the results are unpredictable. Use only in the direst of circumstances, for the results are irreversible."

Underneath there was another line in a different hand. "Not irreversible, but only if the situation is life or death."

"My gods," Hermione murmured, her eyes scanning the ritual. "It's blood bound."

"So it is. I don't remember seeing that," he mumbled, still scanning the pages. "Intention needs to be pure. Full moon. Does not prevent death. Not for accidents."

"For premeditated intent to kill," Hermione finished.

Robert's body sagged. "Aye. We always knew it was unlikely the attack on you and your mother was random."

"No," Hermione agreed slowly. "But whoever it was came with the intention of murdering us. What… how did they get through the wards?"

"We don't know," Robert admitted. "They were intact when the Aurors arrived apparently, so either they were taken down and put back up, which is absurd as the wards are centuries old."

"Or it was someone with access," Hermione whispered, turning to look at her grandfather in horror.

"Aye," he sighed. "It narrows it down considerably given that your father has always been paranoid."

"But… then surely you have an idea?"

"None," Robert shook his head. "All access was revoked, but… none. None of the people with access had any motive we could decipher."

"Could they have been imperiused?" Hermione asked slightly desperately.

Robert froze. "I don't… I don't know," he admitted.

Hermione stilled suddenly remembering Dobby. "What about elves?"

"Elves?" Robert looked at her clearly confused.

"Do the wards let elves through?" Robert stared at her for several long moments in silence.

"Lunch!" Janet called from downstairs.

"Something to consider," he murmured softly, his face pensive as they headed back down the stairs.