Summary: Hermione Granger is not who she believed she was. She finds out after a dream that she was adopted and that her birth mother is none other than Joyce Summers, the mother of the Vampire Slayer.
Disclaimer: Disney owns Buffy and JK Rowling owns Harry Potter
Pairing: No Pairing
Author's Note: Originally this was part of a two-chapter prologue to a story I posted on here years ago that was eventually deleted by the admin. I have been working on the story ever since (it even went through a name change (originally it was titled The Last Summers). It's past time I tried re-uploading it and have decided to make this chapter one-shot (this is the second prologue of the original story) the next upload I do will be the main story.
July 26, 2001 – Thursday
8 Heathgate, Hampstead Garden Suburb, London, England
Hermione Granger, lost in the depths of her dream, tossed and turned in her sleep, the vivid images unfolding before her like a mysterious tapestry.
In her dream, she witnessed a surreal scene—a blonde woman and a monk, both bearing the marks of battle-worn combatants, stumbled wearily towards the entrance of a sprawling factory. Their movements were strained, as if every step was a Herculean effort. But before they could reach the safety of the factory's entrance, the very roof above them began to rumble ominously, a harbinger of impending danger.
The woman, her determination etched into her features, came to a halt and looked back at the monk who struggled to catch his breath. "Stop. Please…" he pleaded weakly, his voice laden with exhaustion.
The blonde hesitated for a moment, her gaze a complex blend of compassion and resolve, before finally relenting and allowing him some respite. "We gotta keep going," she urged him, her voice carrying a note of urgency as she implored him to press on.
But the monk, his strength waning and his resolve faltering, shook his head weakly. "My journey's done…I think." His words hung heavily in the air, leaving no doubt that he believed his end was near.
The determined woman, however, refused to accept such a bleak fate for her companion. Frowning with unwavering determination, she attempted to get him back on his feet, her efforts in vain as he remained incapacitated. "Don't get metaphory on me. We're going," she scolded him firmly, hoping that her words would serve as a rallying cry, motivating him to find the strength to stand once more.
But instead of finding the strength to stand, the monk fixed the blonde woman with a determined look and spoke each word slowly, as if it caused him immense pain. "You have to…the Key. You and your sister must protect the Key."
The blonde frowned, her confusion deepening at his words. "Sister? Protect the Key? Right. I know, we'll do it together! Far, far from here." She tried to rally him with optimism, but it became increasingly evident that he was beyond her assistance.
"Many have, died…many more, if both of you don't…keep it safe…" The monk wheezed each word as though it was a tremendous effort to convey this vital message.
The blonde let out a heavy sigh of frustration, realizing the gravity of the situation. She needed answers. "How? What is it?"
The monk managed a faint smile, his strength waning with each passing moment. "The Key is energy—a portal. It opens the door…" He spoke as though assuming she should already understand the significance.
"Well, duh! That's what keys do! They open doors!" She snapped in frustration, her impatience evident as she sought clarity. "What? That round glowy thing?" Her brow wrinkled in confusion as she referred to the enigmatic Key, the centerpiece of their dire conversation.
The monk shook his head weakly, every movement an ordeal. "For centuries, it had no form at all. My brethren… its only keepers. Then…" He gestured back towards the looming factory. "The abomination… found us. We had to hide The Key… Gave it form. Molded it flesh, made it human from both you and your sister. And sent it to you." His voice was a strained whisper, each word punctuated by the pain that wracked his frail body.
Understanding began to slowly dawn on the blonde woman's face as she whispered her younger sibling's name. "Dawn." She regarded the monk with newfound comprehension, her eyes wide with realization.
The monk nodded weakly. "She is the Key."
"Wait, if Dawn is the Key, then who is my sister you keep mentioning," she demanded, her tone growing accusatory. Then, a dreadful realization dawned upon her. "You put that thing in my home!"
The monk's smile was tinged with sorrow. "We knew the Slayer and the witch would…protect…"
But he was abruptly cut off by her angry glare, her fury and betrayal palpable. "My memories… my mom's…" she began, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and grief, the weight of the revelation sinking in like a heavy anchor.
"We built them. Just as I am using the last of my power to show your other sister what we are discussing now. You both must protect her." The monk's words resonated as if speaking directly to more than just the blonde.
But the blonde woman, her brows furrowed in frustration, was not fully paying attention to all that the monk was saying. "Then unbuild them. This is my life you're—"
Before she could finish, she was abruptly interrupted by a fit of coughing that wracked the monk's frail body. Even in his fading state, his voice held an unwavering determination that made it almost impossible for her to ignore what he was saying. "You cannot…abandon…neither of you can."
"I didn't ask for this. I don't even know what… what is she?" She gazed at him, confusion and anger in her eyes, demanding answers.
The monk nodded in response to her question and spoke softly, his strength nearly spent. "Human. Human, now, and helpless. Please, she is… an innocent in this, and she needs you both."
The monk nodded in response to her realization and repeated softly, "Human. Human, now, and helpless. Please, she is… an innocent in this, and she needs you both."
She looked at the monk, her eyes filled with a mix of emotions as the weight of his words sank in. In a hushed voice, she whispered quietly, "She's not my sister."
He nodded with understanding. "She doesn't know that." His gaze shifted beyond her, toward an where Hermione's dream self stood. "You both must protect her—Hermione."
Startled, the blonde woman spun around, expecting to see someone standing there. Yet, to her surprise, there was no one but the fading memory of the monk's voice echoing in her head. She turned back to the monk, her heart heavy with unanswered questions, only to realize that he had passed away, his purpose fulfilled, and nothing more could be said.
Hermione stirred in her sleep, slowly becoming aware of her surroundings. She tried to piece together where she was and what had transpired, but the dream lingered in her mind like a vivid memory. It was no ordinary dream; it had felt too real, and the implications of the monk's words left her with a profound sense of unease and curiosity about her true identity and the mysterious connection she shared with a girl named Dawn.
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Later that morning, Hermione walked into the dining room, where her parents, Dan and Helen Granger, were engrossed in their breakfast routine. Her father was deeply engrossed in the newspaper, while her mother was sipping her coffee, the steam swirling around her.
"Mom, Dad…am I adopted?" Hermione asked in a soft, hesitant tone, her heart heavy with questions about her own identity and the secrets that had been kept from her for so long.
Hermione's mother glanced up from her coffee and exchanged a meaningful look with her husband, who nodded in affirmation. With a sigh, she set her coffee cup aside and walked over to Hermione, enveloping her in a warm, comforting hug. "Yes, dear," Helene admitted gently, her voice carrying the weight of years of love and care.
Hermione's curiosity burned as she sought answers. "Who are they?" she inquired, her gaze locked on her parents, her desire to know about the people who had brought her into this world overwhelming her.
Helen moved to a desk by the window, her steps purposeful, and retrieved an envelope marked 'Hermione Joyce Summers' from the top drawer. She returned to her daughter, her eyes filled with a mixture of emotions, and handed her the envelope.
Hermione's fingers trembled as she opened the envelope, revealing a birth certificate that contained vital information about her origins. It listed the place of birth as Los Angeles, California, and her birth parents as Hank and Joyce Summers. Her heart raced as she looked up at her parents, a mix of emotions swirling within her. "I want to meet them," she declared, her determination clear as she took a seat at the dining room table, ready to embark on a journey to discover her true roots.
Helen exchanged a meaningful glance with her husband, Dan, who nodded in agreement. "They said they wanted it to be up to her," Dan spoke softly, his voice reflecting the deep understanding and respect they had for Hermione's feelings and choices.
Helen nodded in acknowledgment and made her way to the living room, where she picked up the phone. With a determined yet apprehensive expression, she opened her address book and found the phone number she was looking for. With trembling fingers, she dialed the number.
"Stepping Stone Adoptions, this is Melinda Hargrove, how can I direct your call?" came a voice from the other end of the phone.
"Hello, this is Dr. Helen Granger calling on behalf of my adopted daughter Hermione Joyce Granger, formerly known as Summers," Helen informed the agency worker. "The case worker assigned to her adoption was Mrs. Alexandra Barnes."
"Mrs. Barnes retired five years ago," the voice on the other end responded. "I'll transfer you to Ms. Casey Carlyle, who took over for her."
"Thank you," Helen replied, her heart pounding with anticipation as she waited for Ms. Carlyle to come on the phone, her thoughts focused on the emotional journey that lay ahead for her family and Hermione.
"This is Casey Carlyle," came Casey's voice from the other end of the phone. "How can I help you, Dr. Granger."
"Hello, Ms. Carlyle," Helen responded, her voice filled with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. "I'm calling on behalf of Hermione. She would like to meet her birth family. It was set up when we adopted her that she had the right to do so."
"Give me a second to look at Hermione's file," Casey said, and Helen could hear the sounds of typing coming from the other end. "Okay, I see that Joyce and Hank Summers did request that Hermione be given that right. Let me pull up the contact information. Ah, here we go…" Casey proceeded to provide all the relevant information that Hermione would need to contact her birth family.
"Thank you," Helen replied gratefully as she wrote down the information. She then placed the receiver back on the cradle and returned to the dining room, where Hermione was waiting. "This is your birth mother's phone number in Sunnydale, California," she said, sliding the paper across the table to her daughter. "You might want to wait a few hours, dear, before calling. It's still the middle of the night there."
Hermione nodded, her heart heavy with a mix of emotions as she gazed at the piece of paper. "Do you know why they gave me up?" she asked quietly, her voice tinged with vulnerability.
"Yes, dear," Helen responded, her smile warm and reassuring. She wanted to ease Hermione's fears and uncertainty. "They were going through a rough patch. They already had one daughter, and the financial burden of raising a second was too great at the time. They did love you; they still do, which is why they requested that you have the right, should you ever wish to, to contact them. They even said that once you found out, you could always go home if you wanted to visit." Her words carried a message of love and acceptance, assuring Hermione that her birth family's decision had been a difficult one, but not one made out of lack of love or care.
Hermione stood up from her seat, her emotions a swirling storm of confusion and shock. "I'm going out for a walk. I will be back in a bit," she announced, the need to clear her mind and sort through her thoughts pressing upon her.
Helen nodded, her gaze filled with understanding and empathy as she observed her daughter's somber face. "Of course, dear. I can understand this is a lot to take in. And you want time to think things over."
Streets of Hampstead Garden Suburb, London, England
As Hermione stepped outside, the cool morning air enveloped her, providing a welcome respite from the emotional turbulence inside. The tranquil streets were lined with rows of plane trees, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. She began to walk around the familiar neighborhood, needing the solitude and fresh air to help her process the overwhelming revelations of the day.
Her thoughts swirled back and forth between the startling revelation of her adoption and the enigmatic dream she had experienced the night before. The dream played in her mind like a recurring puzzle, its cryptic message eluding her understanding.
Hermione couldn't help but wonder if the dream held a deeper significance, if it was more than just a product of her imagination. Could it be a vision, a glimpse into a hidden truth related to her adoption? She shook her head, trying to dispel these unsettling thoughts as if they were unwelcome intruders. Yet, deep down, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her story than she had ever imagined.
Lost in her thoughts, Hermione wandered through the peaceful streets, her footsteps echoing softly against the pavement. The weight of the newfound knowledge about her adoption pressed upon her, and the dream, with its mysterious message and the mention of a girl named Dawn, continued to haunt her.
As she walked, she couldn't help but feel that there was a connection between these two revelations. The dream felt too vivid, too significant to be mere coincidence. It was as if the universe was trying to tell her something, to guide her toward a deeper understanding of her identity and her place in the world.
Hermione's mind raced with questions. Who were her birth parents, Hank and Joyce Summers, and what had led them to make the difficult decision to give her up for adoption? Why had they chosen to keep the possibility of reunion open for her? And most importantly, who was Dawn, the girl mentioned in the dream, and what role did she play in Hermione's destiny?
8 Heathgate, Hampstead Garden Suburb, London, England
After what felt like hours of aimless wandering, Hermione finally made her way back home. As she opened the door and stepped inside, a sense of anticipation and uncertainty hung in the air. She knew that her next steps would be pivotal, shaping her journey of self-discovery.
Helen was in the living room, engrossed in watching TV, her presence providing a comforting sense of familiarity. Hermione approached her mother and said, "Mum, I'm back," as she retrieved the slip of paper with her birth mother's phone number on it.
Helen, ever supportive, picked up the phone beside her and walked over to her daughter. "Do you want me to listen in on the extension?" she offered, holding out the phone to Hermione. "Or do you want to do this on your own?"
Hermione paused to consider her options, her heart torn between the desire for privacy and the comfort of her mother's presence. After a moment of reflection, she made her decision. "I would like to do this on my own. But could you sit with me, though?" she requested, seeking the reassurance of her mother's silent support.
Helen smiled warmly, her eyes filled with understanding. "Of course, dear," she replied, ready to stand by Hermione as she embarked on this deeply personal and emotional journey. Together, mother and daughter would face whatever revelations awaited them on the other end of the phone call, knowing that their bond was unbreakable, no matter what the outcome.
Hermione's hand trembled as she dialed the phone number from the slip of paper, her heart pounding with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. The American-accented voice that greeted her from the other end sent a shiver down her spine.
"Hello?" the voice inquired.
Summoning her courage, Hermione took a deep breath and responded, "Hello, is this Joyce Summers?"
"No, this is her daughter, Buffy. Mom is…" Buffy's voice faltered, a hint of uncertainty in her tone. "Mom isn't here right now. Can I ask who's calling?"
Hermione glanced at her mother, who offered a reassuring smile, before returning her attention to the phone. She spoke quickly, her words tumbling out in a rush as she tried to convey the complex truth. "My name is Hermione Granger—well, actually it's Hermione Summers, or, well, actually, I was born Hermione Joyce Summers. I recently found out I was adopted, and that Mrs. Summers is my biological mother." Realizing she had spoken too quickly, she added apologetically, "Sorry, this is still quite new to me."
There was a brief silence on the other end as Buffy processed the bombshell that had just been dropped on her. "Wait, hold on, you need to slow down and let my brain catch up. If it wasn't for your accent, I'd swear you were Willow. Did you say you're my sister, Hermione? Mom told me that she and Dad gave her up for adoption," Buffy replied, her disbelief evident in her voice.
Hermione let out a sigh, her smile tinged with both relief and sadness. "Yes, I am. I just found out this morning myself. So... um... Buffy, can you tell me when Joyce will be home so I can call back?"
Buffy's response took its time coming, as if she were carefully choosing her words. "I know this is sudden in asking, but can you come here?" Her voice held a note of uncertainty, as if she were unsure of how Hermione would react to the request.
Hermione exchanged a meaningful glance with her mother and then replied, "Buffy, hold on a second while my mom picks up the extension."
Helen went to the kitchen and grabbed the other phone, joining the conversation. "I'm here now, dear," she assured them both.
"Buffy, can you repeat what you just said?" Hermione requested, her curiosity piqued by the unexpected request.
This time, Buffy's response came almost immediately, her voice carrying a weight of sorrow. "I was asking if you could come here. Mom passed away from a complication from surgery. She had a tumor; the funeral is the day after tomorrow." Her voice quivered as she delivered the painful news, and it was clear that she was struggling with the enormity of her loss.
Hermione's heart sank upon hearing about the passing of her birth mother, Joyce. The emotions were a complex mix of sadness, regret, and the realization that she had missed an opportunity to reunite with her. She turned to her mother, seeking guidance on how to proceed in the face of this devastating news.
"Let me see what I can do about getting a flight out here either today or tomorrow, Ms. Summers," Helen offered, her voice filled with empathy and a desire to help. She knew that this was a momentous and emotional journey for her daughter. She then turned her attention to Hermione, seeking a practical solution for her daughter's travel. "Hermione, darling, do you think you can travel through the fireplace like we did that one time?"
Hermione sat up straighter, her mind racing with the possibilities. She gazed at the fireplace for a few moments, recalling the magical method she had used before. "You mean Floo? I have some Floo powder, but I don't know if it will work for going to California."
Buffy, who was unfamiliar with the concept of Floo, was puzzled. "Floo? What's that?" she asked, her confusion evident.
Hermione was taken aback by the question, realizing that Buffy might not be familiar with the magical world. She clarified, "You are a Muggle? I mean, not magical?"
Buffy hesitated for a moment before responding, "No—well, sort of." Then, seeking more information, she asked, "What is Floo?"
Hermione sighed, realizing that she needed to provide some context. "Floo is one way wizards and witches in the wizarding world transport from place to place. It's near-instantaneous travel," she explained, offering a glimpse into the magical world she came from.
Buffy took a moment to process Hermione's explanation of Floo, comparing it to her understanding of teleportation. She nodded in understanding, appreciating the effort Hermione was making to bridge the gap between their worlds. "Sort of like a teleportation spell," she mused aloud.
Hermione paused briefly, considering the comparison, and then nodded. "It's kind of like that but different," she agreed. "You take this powder, throw it into your fireplace, step in, and call out your destination. WHOOSH! Now you're in another fireplace somewhere else."
Buffy acknowledged Hermione's explanation but suggested they continue the conversation when it wasn't a long-distance call. "I think we should speak more on this when you're not calling long distance," she said. "Call me when everything is sorted out."
Hermione smiled, appreciating the sentiment. "You're right, of course. Before you go, I'm going to need your address if I'm going to connect our fireplace to yours. It was nice talking to you, Buffy—even if it was just over the phone."
Buffy's hearty laugh filled the line, a sound that seemed to carry a sense of warmth and connection. "Same here. Anyways, my house is located at 1630 Revello Dr in Sunnydale, California. Bye."
Hermione noted down the address Buffy had provided and then replied, "Thank you, Buffy. I'll be in touch soon. Take care." With those parting words, she hung up the phone, her thoughts now focused on the next steps of her journey.
Turning to her mother, Hermione announced her intentions. "Mum, I'm going to go write to Professor Dumbledore to see about connecting our fireplace to Buffy's for the Floo to work."
Helen nodded in understanding. "Alright, dear," she replied, supportive of her daughter's determination. She watched as Hermione hurried upstairs to compose her letter to Professor Dumbledore.
A short while later, Hermione returned downstairs, ready to send her letter. She informed her mother of her plans. "Mum, I'll be right back, going to send this letter via Owl Post in Diagon Alley!" It was fortunate that Hermione had already taken the initiative to get her fireplace hooked up to the Floo network, as she had yet to acquire an owl as she had originally planned.
With a canister of Floo powder in hand, Hermione created a small fire in the fireplace and then tossed a pinch of the magical substance into it. She stated her destination clearly: "Diagon Alley Owl Post." Then, without hesitation, she stepped into the flames and began to spin around, preparing for the Floo journey that would take her one step closer to her newfound family.
Diagon Alley, London, England
Hermione arrived at the Owl Post Office in Diagon Alley, a place she was quite familiar with from her time in the wizarding world. Approaching the counter, she politely requested the use of an owl to send her letter, and the attendant readily provided her with one.
After affixing her letter securely to the owl's leg, Hermione watched as the feathered messenger took flight, carrying her message to the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore. She hoped that he would receive the letter promptly and be able to assist her with her request.
With the owl dispatched on its mission, Hermione returned to the fire and stepped back into the Floo network, making her way back home. Now, all she could do was wait patiently for a reply from Professor Dumbledore, her mind filled with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety about the journey that lay ahead.
8 Heathgate, Hampstead Garden Suburb, London, England
Later that afternoon, a knock echoed through the Granger household, prompting Helen to make her way to the front door. As she opened it, she was greeted by the sight of a distinguished man with a long white beard standing on her porch. His warm and kindly demeanor immediately put her at ease.
"Hello, Mrs. Granger. I am Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster at Hogwarts. Is your daughter perchance at home?" he inquired in his gentle manner, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mirth.
Helen nodded, recognizing the esteemed headmaster's name. "Yes, she is. Would you come in?" she offered, stepping aside to allow him entry.
"Thank you," Dumbledore replied with a gracious nod as he crossed the threshold into the Granger residence. He then proceeded to explain the purpose of his visit. "I received her letter with an unusual request."
"Hermione," Helen called up the stairs. She then led Dumbledore into the living room and took a seat opposite the headmaster.
Hermione appeared from upstairs and greeted the headmaster politely, "Hello, Professor."
As Hermione settled in, Dumbledore continued, "Miss Granger. I got your owl asking for your fireplace to be hooked up to one Ms. Buffy Summers in Sunnydale, California. May I ask why?" His tone was not unkind, but it held a note of curiosity and concern, as he was well aware of the peculiarities surrounding that particular town.
Helen recognized the headmaster's concern about the request of his time. So she whispered quietly, not wanting to reveal the big family secret, but explained their situation as had revealed itself earlier that day: "Mr. Dumbledore, recently Hermione found out that her father and I adopted her. Hermione's birth parents wanted her to be able to contact them to even visit them. She did so this morning for the first time. Mrs. Summers is deceased, but Hermione's birth sister has invited Hermione to come to the funeral of their mother."
"I'm sorry to hear of your loss Miss Granger," consoled Dumbledore. "I guess we could connect your fireplace to theirs just this once. I assume your biological sister knows of the Wizarding World?"
Hermione deliberated for a few seconds and then agreed, "Yes, she does."
Dumbledore gave a nod and said, "How about you give your sister a call so she knows to expect you in the next half-hour or so? That should be enough time for you to pack up, and I'll head over to the Ministry to sort everything out. Fortunately for you, I can speed the process of establishing the Floo connection."
Hermione nodded. "Thank you, Professor. I will owl you when I am ready to return."
Dumbledore's chuckle filled the room as he reassured Hermione, "No need. I will keep the Floo connection to your sister's home open so you can use it to call me. No sense in asking an owl to fly across America and the Atlantic." His eyes twinkled with merriment, and Hermione appreciated the practicality of his suggestion.
With Dumbledore's plan in place, Hermione headed to the kitchen to make her call. After a couple of rings, a man with a crisp English accent answered the phone, his tone hinting at experience in handling such calls. "Summers residence, Rupert Giles speaking."
Hermione was momentarily taken aback by Giles' accent, wondering if she had dialed the wrong number. However, she quickly composed herself and introduced herself, "Hello? This is Hermione Granger. May I speak with Buffy?"
Giles paused briefly, seemingly surprised by Hermione's British accent. "One moment, and I will get her," he replied.
Almost immediately, Buffy's voice came through the phone, sounding clear and somewhat sheepish, likely due to Giles having answered the phone earlier. "Hello?" she greeted, and Hermione could sense the curiosity in her tone.
"Buffy, it's Hermione. I just spoke to the Headmaster of my school and he is going to the Ministry to get a Floor connection set up between our two fireplaces," Hermione said, her words laced with eagerness. "And that you should expect me in say a half an hour."
"Got it. We'll see you soon," Buffy replied, her voice a mix of surprise and distraction, leaving Hermione to wonder what might be occupying her thoughts.
After they hung up the phone, Hermione hurried to her bedroom, her excitement bubbling over. The prospect of reuniting with her long-lost sister filled her with warmth. She packed her belongings in a rush, eager to be on her way. Thirty minutes later, she stood before the fireplace with her suitcase in tow, a mix of anticipation and determination in her eyes.
With a final, lingering farewell to her mother, Hermione scooped up some Floo powder, her heart pounding in her chest. She threw it into the fireplace with a determined flick of her wrist and stepped into the emerald flames.
"Summers residence, Sunnydale, California!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with exhilaration as she vanished in a brilliant green flash.
Continued in House of Slayer 3: The Slayer, The Witch & The Key