AN: Hello, fanfiction and Harry Potter fans. I do not own Harry Potter, but feel free to enjoy this or hate it. If you enjoy it please leave a lovely comment, if you hate it, then leave some constructive criticism, thanks!
AN2: Merry Christmas! This is a Christmas gift to everyone haha.
Can You Take the Jump?
Chapter 5
"I'm sorry for leaving, but I'm here now." He started softly patting her back and stroking her soft hair. "You must have been so scared, all alone. You're okay, I'll take care of you. I can help you." He continued to speak softly into her ear. At first it seemed like his soothing had no effect, but slowly the shakes decreased, her intense frown lessened and soon the explosive magic disappeared. Only moments later, she was soundly sleeping in his arms as if nothing had happened.
"Oh my god."
The two healers whipped their heads around at the sound of the voice to find Ivy Evans standing there, jaw dropped and terror in her eyes.
…
Cool wind blew, rustling the leaves of the giant oak tree that marked the border between St. Mungo's Hospital and the muggle world. Although it was a large tree, it was quite a distance away from the hospital, even beyond the greenhouses that grew some of the plants for essential potions. There were barely any staff that visited the tree, let alone patients, which was why it was the perfect place for Hermione to be alone in the busy hospital.
On a sturdy branch, a swing hung just low enough that Hermione needed to hop in order to seat herself. It had been placed there by the efforts of Alphard when he noticed that it was a place she frequented.
She'd been here since morning rounds, reading a thick book called the Origins of Magic, hoping there would be a mention of the Cave of Wishes. But as dusk approached, the sun was quickly setting below the horizon, making it impossible for her to read anymore. A part of her wanted to stay in this tree, avoiding her duties as the youngest patient at the Janus Thickey Ward, the long-term ward at St. Mungo's. However, she knew that if her medical team saw her empty bed, they'd go on a full panic.
Years of being a model patient allowed her some leniency, compared to the other patients in the long-term care ward, but being away from bed during rounds was simply not an option.
She understood the needed for constant supervision, she was an Obscurus. A powerful, yet demonic, magical parasite that lived inside a disturbed magical person, eating and growing through the host's trauma.
Oh, and she had plenty of trauma.
The young and quiet Hermione was something to be feared, something to be locked away, maybe even eliminated for the safety of the masses.
She should be glad that she wasn't 'disposed' the moment the Ministry realized she was an Obscurus, but it had been the promises made by Alphard Black that had saved her. He was the one who proposed that he could keep her obscurial dormant within her. He swore on his name, his career, his reputation, and his wand that he would keep her maintained. Hermione owed that man her life. Thanks to him, she was alive, but that didn't mean she had to be happy about spending the majority of her life in the hospital, being surrounded by people who thought of her as the perfect live experimental subject.
Hermione looked back down at the large and thick book, to the last lines she could see. "Magic was invoked in many kinds of rituals and medical formulae, and to counteract evil omens. There are written tablets from Mesopotamia, by the Sumerians and Akkadians, about defensive magic through incantations and ritual practices. Ancient Mesopotamians believed that magic was the only viable defense against demons, ghosts, and evil sorcerers." *
She used a blade of grass as a bookmark, although she was pretty sure this book was yet another flop. Even after 800 pages, there were no real theories on where magic came from. But Hermione knew. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the rope of the swing, recalling that exact memory in excruciating detail. Even now, half a decade after her brief visit, she could still vividly remember the Cave of Wishes. The power that emanated from that place, the voices, the echo, the smell and even the distant sound of water.
She simply needed a theory or a guess on where it could be located.
"Why is the Cave of Wishes even important? It sent you here, but it can't kill Voldemort and save the future."
30 year old Harry Potter stood before her. The scent of his lemon detergent and minty shampoo, drifted into her nose. He was in a simple pair of jeans and a simple t-shirt, like he'd just been on a walk around the neighbourhood, and just happened to find himself in the edge of the old St. Mungo's property. His voice was calm and curious, as he watched her swing back and forth on the swing, his emerald green eyes following her, while the last of the sun's rays colored the sky.
He was deceivingly solid-looking, hair and beard flying with the wind. He looked like he could reach his arm out and stop her from swinging, but he couldn't. Harry Potter did not exist in this lifetime, and she could not meet him. A mere hallucination; one of the many other unnecessary details her brain had brought over from her other life. He was evidence of her insanity.
"It sent me here." Hermione stopped the swing with her tippy toes. "That's important enough."
Harry continued to stare at her with a level of patience he only ever had with a very pregnant Ginny.
"You look tired." He noted, pointing at the dark circles beneath her eyes, unfitting for a 5 year old girl.
"You don't get to comment on my appearance." Hermione replied. "You're dead."
Harry smiled, somehow finding humor in her statement. "I think it's more correct to say, I'm not born."
She rolled her eyes at the tasteless joke. Jumping off the swing, she forced him to disappear by walking right through him. She forced herself to focus only on the dimly lit narrow path between the greenhouses as she made her way back to her home, her safe place, and her prison.
Instead of taking the entrance that would take her most directly to her room, Hermione chose to enter though the Emergency ward, where many patients and their guardians came in and out throughout the night. It was the only location where Hermione could inconspicuously enter and exit without attracting too much attention. The trick was to make sure she moved quickly enough, yet not too fast, in order to not be noticed by the exhausted overnight healers and assistants.
However, tonight, Hermione didn't need to care about her pace. The Emergency ward was at a panicked state as healers and other hospital staff ran around in high alert, unlike their normal zombie-like state. All sorts of noises rang off the walls from all directions giving Hermione a headache, but the most prominent one was a scream from a child.
He or she sounded as if they were in excruciating pain. Like they'd been tortured.
Something was very wrong.
Before she knew what she was doing, she weaved her way through the crowd and walked into the room where she could hear the wails of the suffering.
…
Alphard Black stood up only sit quickly back down when he felt a sharp pain in his back. It was probably caused by one too many nights on this very couch he was sitting on. His ancestors would shake their head at his state. Although he wasn't the leader of the Black family, he still had enough wealth to live his life frivolously, spending vast amounts of money without ever needing to worry about going hungry.
He let out a groan as he stretched out his stiff body. In moments like these, he wondered why he hadn't just chosen the easy way in life, but when he looked down at his messy coffee table and was reminded of the reason. Piles and piles of books and notes surrounded his coffee table, in a chaotic yet organized manner. Each and every single piece of information had something to do with one patient; Hermione Evans. To him, she was life's greatest mystery. He called her the impossible girl; impossible to cure, impossible to read, impossible to get through to, yet impossible to hate and give up on. She was unlike any child he'd ever seen or even read about; quiet, sullen, and terrifyingly brilliant. She could leave you speechless with just one look, and still, you wouldn't be able to look away. There was something beautifully sad and fascinatingly wonderful about her.
"BLACK!" Heather Bones, a fellow colleague who helped him keep Hermione safe from the Ministry, stormed into his office without bothering to knock on his door.
"Merlin's beard!" Alphard jumped, which only proceeded hurt his back even more. "Bones! What the hell?!"
"You need to come to the first floor. Now."
"I'm not on-call today. I'm just going to see Hermione before going home. If I sleep on this couch one more time…"
"No." Bones cut him off. "It's a lycan bite. A little boy. It's bad."
Alphard jumped up from the couch, forgetting all about the pain in his back. He rushed out the door with Bones following right behind him.
"The father came in carrying the boy in his arms. There's… a lot of blood."
"Where's Healer Hopkins?" Alphard asked as they raced down to the first floor where they treated creature-induced injury. "He's the resident expert on bites."
"We can't reach him."
"Damn him." Alphard let out another string of curses as he jumped the last 5 steps.
They opened the door, but compared to the quiet halls of the Janus Thickey ward, the first floor was like King's Cross Station on September 1st. People were running left, right and center. Reporters, ministry officials, healers and curious patients were crawling around, trying to get a glimpse of the boy who was bit.
"Healer Black! Healer Bones!" A senior apprentice healer grabbed his arm, pure relief written on his face. "Thank Merlin you're both here!"
"Who the hell is supposed to be in charge today?" Alphard asked, allowing the apprentice to drag him through the crowd.
"Healer Hopkins, sir."
"Fuck!" He shouted, attracting the attention of everyone in hearing distance, but he didn't care. "Get him here. Now."
"Sir, we've been trying, but—"
"But?" Bones accused. "A child's life is on the line, and you're giving us excuses?"
"Get him here now. Or else your apprenticeship and Hopkin's career are over." Alphard threatened.
The apprentice opened his mouth, as if to complain, but quickly shut his mouth as the signature Black lineage's grey eyes grew darker.
"Yes, sir."
Bones looked to the side to see three aurors watching, looking like a couple of spectators, instead of doing their job. She marched up to them and started screaming at their faces. Whatever she said must've been extremely effective since the dumbfounded aurors quickly snapped out of their shocked expressions and started pushing the reporters, spectators, and other people back. The path they created gave the healers enough space to get to the room of the injured boy.
When Alphard and Heather pulled entered the room, they'd expected to see carnage and blood, but what they found was somehow even more shocking.
"Hermione?" the both of them stopped in complete shock.
The tiny five year old girl's hands and clothes covered in the blood. One apprentice was straddling the young patient, using both hands to compress the large gaping bite wound with several layers of gauze. While the other apprentice was physically wresting Hermione, trying to get her out of the area, but she held on to the bed railing, refusing to let go.
"Alphard," Hermione sighed in relief when she turned around to see her healer standing behind her. "All they've done is try to give him blood replenishing potion, but he can't swallow. He needs a blood transfusion. His blood type is A, RH positive. He's losing too much blood."
"Sir," the apprentice that had been wrestling Hermione quickly dropped her and shook his head at her words. "None of that has been confirmed. I don't know where she's getting this information. We don't know his blood type yet. Hell, we don't even know his name and age yet."
"What do you mean?"
"Before we could ask any questions, the ministry took his father away for immediate questioning and his mother's been…indisposed."
"Indisposed?"
"Shell shocked, sir. We can't get anything out of her. We've tried giving her Calming potion, but she started thrashing and screaming."
"His name is Remus Lupin, age five. His father is Lyall Lupin, the anti-werewolf campaigner. The perpetrator is the infamous Fenrir Greyback. You have to believe me. Time is of the essence."
Alphard looked back and forth between Hermione and the apprentice.
The fact that Alphard was even contemplating the words of a child (who also happened to be a Janus Thickey ward patient) make the apprentice want to rip his hair out. "Sir, I understand that she is your long-time patient, but she's a child! You cannot possibly be thinking of proceeding with a medical treatment based on information given to you by her."
Alphard was almost convinced by the apprentice, but the tear tracks on Hermione's face made him stop. He'd never seen Hermione cry when she was awake. Her eyes, normally blank and vacant, were clear and present for the first time as she stared at him, pleadingly.
"He's dying."
"Keep the pressure on that wound." Healer Bones ordered the apprentice still straddling the child. The female Healer stepped out from behind Alphard's large frame. She pulled her wand out and cast a bewitched sleep charm on the suffering boy.
"You have O negative blood. We'll give him your blood for the transfusion." Bones pulled up the chair next to the bed and forced Alphard to sit down.
"You." She pointed at the apprentice that had been arguing. She glanced at his name tag. "Cardon? Instead of arguing with a toddler, do something useful. Get me the equipment necessary for the blood transfusion."
With one more glare at Hermione, the apprentice rushed off to get the necessary tubes and needles.
"Hermione." Bones turned to the little girl, only a few months older than her twin children, yet exceedingly smarter than both of them combined. She pointed her wand at the child and cast a quick scourgify. With her best 'mother'-like authoritarian voice, she pointed to the exit. "Go to your room."
Alphard finally came to his senses from his stupor and shook his head. "You're not even supposed to be out and walking around in the first place. Go back." When he watched her hesitate, he sighed. "I'll update you once we get him stabilized."
Bones transfigured the bedside table into another bed for Alphard to lie on, but the man watched Hermione until she was out of sight.
"You froze." She commented when he finally lied down. She rolled up his sleeve to clean the inside of his elbow. "That's unusual."
"She cried. That's even more unusual."
"Hermione's cried before."
"Awake?" Alphard asked as a cooling sensation told him that his arm was being sanitized for the transfusion.
Heather didn't respond because they both knew the answer. Hermione didn't cry. It was one of the first things they noticed when they first started treating her as a newborn.
"Still," she shook her head. "You shouldn't have frozen, and you shouldn't believe everything she tells you."
"Has she ever been wrong?" Alphard challenged. "She even predi—" he stopped when Cardon showed up with the transfusion equipment. Bones took the needle from him. After a quick disinfecting charm, she stuck the needle with ease into Alphard's vein.
"She even predicted the new minister of magic." Alphard lowered his voice to barely above a whisper, only for Heather to hear.
Heather signed as she stuck the needle at the opposite end of the tube into the patient's thigh. "That could have been luck, and this was an issue of life and death for a patient. A little five year old boy. Besides, you know it's impossible."
"You don't know he's five, unless you also believe Hermione's right." Alphard raised his brow. "Bones, what if our theory is right? Screw what we know of them, what if Hermione really is a Se—"
"Holy fucking shit!" Healer Hopkins slammed the door as he raced into the room. He stormed right up to his two apprentices, wagging an angry finger at the two of them. "I stepped out for just twenty fucking minutes and you idiots make this fucking mess?"
"The 'fucking mess' was made by you, Hopkins." Bones told him. "And if you touch that apprentice of yours, the patient will bleed out, so I'd be careful if I were you."
The man jumped back, clearly not having seen the other two healers in the room.
"H-Healer Bones, Healer Black." He stuttered. "I'm so sorry you had to deal with their incompetence."
"Yes, your apprentices' lack of professionalism and lack of ability to handle a high stress situation is a major concern," Alphard nodded. "But the bigger concern is your complete and utter lack of responsibility."
"You left?!" Bones asked incredulously. "Unreachable for 20 minutes?! Who gave you the luxury? Who gave you the audacity?" She turned to her co-worker, who winced slightly as the blood transfusion started. "Black, have you ever left your post when you were on-call? Because I sure never have."
"No, I don't believe I have either." Alphard shook his head as he watched the blood run from himself, into the young boy.
Hopkins audibly swallowed, unable to retort and make any form of excuse. He was undeniably a decent healer, but compared to Heather and Alphard, not only did he lack the seniority, he also lacked in talent and influence. The two other healers were Sacred Twenty-Nine (A/N: I'm assuming the Potters were still a part of the "Sacred" Pureblood league, but got kicked off because James married Lily).
"I-I'm sorry."
"While we'd love to hear what was so important for you to leave the hospital for 20 minutes and remain unreachable, we have a patient to save." Bones spoke through her clenched jaw. "I can trust that you can make the mixture that heals wolf bites?"
"Of course, Healer Bones."
Slowly and carefully, the apprentice who'd been applying pressure released his hands from the bite, but being a cursed wound, the wound had not clotted despite their best efforts and started running blood immediately. Hopkins, with the help of Healer Bones, worked quickly to clean the wound to ensure it wouldn't fester, but to their surprise, found it was completely clean.
"Wow," Bones looked to the apprentice that had been compressing the wound. "Apprentice Thomas? Good job on cleaning the wound." she complimented.
The two apprentices glanced nervously at each other, one shaking their head furiously while the other looked torn.
"What is it?" Alphard asked, noticing their interaction.
"It's…" Thomas spoke up, but was nudged by Cardon, attempting to make him stop.
"If you interrupt your colleague again, you will be considered withholding vital information on the patient's treatment and care, thus punished accordingly." Alphard warned. He turned back to Thomas one more time, willing him to speak.
"It was your patient, sir. The little girl?" Thomas started picking at the dried blood on his arms with his bloody hands. "While we were trying to handle the crowd, get in contact with Healer Hopkins, get the boy's information from Aurors and the catatonic mother, your patient cleaned the wound. To perfection, as you can see."
…
Alphard sucked on a sugar quill as he trudged heavily up the stairs, back to Janus Thickey, where he knew Hermione would hold him to the promise that he'd notify her when the boy had stabilized.
He opened the door to her private room to see her sitting on the edge of her bed. Gone was the girl that looked like she would punch the living lights out of Apprentice Cardon for trying to drag her away. She was back to her normal state, staring, observing, and being utterly impassive.
"He's good. We stabilized him." He told her, gently sitting next to her on the bed.
Hermione simply nodded, like she'd expected that answer.
There was a prolongs silence between the two, like they were both expecting someone to say something about the events that had passed. Normally, people, especially children, would start to ramble to fill in the quiet span, but instead of Hermione, it was Alphard's mouth that was itching to talk. He forcibly bit the inside of his cheeks to remain quiet. Instead, he observed and studied her, just like she did with him and many others.
The first thing that everyone noticed about Hermione were her startlingly intelligent eyes. The almond shaped, hazel eyes stared him changing colors to honey or amber depending on the light and the season. They reminding him of the Forbidden Forest in the middle of autumn as if the specks of color were leaves that were turning color: green, brown, yellow and gold. Not many people knew what the Forbidden Forest looked like during autumn since the new school year started in September and everyone was too busy getting settled in to notice. But once you notice it, its beauty shook you with awe. However, like the Forbidden Forest, Hermione's eyes told you something more; beyond the surface beauty, there was foreboding threat of darkness and frightening monsters.
If her eyes weren't the dealbreaker, Hermione's beautiful auburn hair was sure to catch your eye and make you do a double take. Unlike other Pureblood families with red hair (the Boneses or the Weasleys), Hermione's hair was a deep auburn red that sometimes looked brown in dimmer light, but when the sun hit it, her hair looked as if it was on fire. It flowed down, like a cascading red river, to her waist.
Unlike her hair, which was voluminous and luscious, Hermione was skinny for a child her age. Her eye sockets, cheeks and belly were sunken in. She lacked the baby fat that children at her age naturally had due to chronic malnutrition and lack of sleep and rest.
Although she was largely expressionless, Alphard picked up on some of her micro-expressions. She was exhausted, that much was obvious, but as he studied her longer, he could see that there was also guilt, burden, and perhaps anger? To whom, Alphard had no idea.
"Did he suffer?"
"No." He lied out of reflex, something he did for the parents and guardians of his patients when they asked the same question.
Suddenly, a flash of annoyance passed her face; the smallest twitch of right eye, the slightest frown between her brows and the ever-so-minor clenching of her jaw. Alphard was only able to pick it up because he was watching her so intensely, but it would have been impossible to see if he hadn't been blatantly staring. In a blink of an eye, the infinitesimal changes reverted back to her normal blank expression.
Alphard internally celebrated. It was moments like these that reassured him that she was truly human, like the rest of them. He wondered why she was annoyed, but quickly realized she'd been reading him as much as he'd been reading her. She knew he was lying.
"Yes, he suffered." He amended his lie.
"I should have stopped it." She muttered to herself, as she started picking at the flesh on the side of her nails, a nervous habit she'd picked up. It was safe to say, her fingers were severely battered by self-inflicted ripping of the skin. Alphard gently placed his hand on top of hers, to prevent any further damage.
"You couldn't have known."
The look she gave him chilled him to the bone. Without any further words, she crawled into the bed, and slipped beneath the bedsheets. She wouldn't sleep, she never did, but it was a clear indication that Hermione Evans was done talking for the day and would not be further disturbed.
He sighed, but tucked her in nonetheless.
Alphard walked back to his office, his mind reeling with what Hermione had said before she went to bed. He glanced longingly at the fireplace and the floo powder situated on top of the mantle. If he stayed here again, it'd be his 3rd night spent in this damned office.
"Third time's the charm?" He muttered to himself as he sat on his lumpy sofa in his office. There was work to do. He pushed the books away in search of the one theory he'd been working on months ago.
By the time he found his notes, his organized chaotic mess was no longer organized. The small book was old, where the pages and spine of the book were weathered from use and age, but the ink inside hadn't smudged, allowing perfect legibility in the dim light.
Alphard flipped through the pages until he found the thin and vague chapter he was looking for.
"Seers."
…
Ivy and Robert Evans sat in an observatory, watching their 5 year old daughter through a glass window, thick enough to block a bloody missile. Robert supported the weight of his weeping wife with his arms and hips when her knees buckled beneath her as she desperately pawed at the glass.
"Look how much she's grown." Ivy Evans remarked through her tears of despair, joy, and nervousness. "Look how big she's gotten."
"She's strong." Robert nodded, "Like her mother."
The couple spent a few more minutes watching their child read an enormous book on her lap, when someone knocked on the door to come in.
"Ivy. Robert." Alphard Black walked into the room carrying several books and the morning newspaper. "Thank you for coming on such short notice. I know you guys are probably really busy."
"We're never too busy for our daughter." Robert affirmed.
This made Alphard smile, "Good because I have some brilliant news. I think I can overturn your case."
Ivy gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. For the first time, since they'd stepped into this wizarding hospital, they'd received positive news. Ivy turned to her husband to share their moment of joy, only to see that he was crying. Silent tear drops fell from the man's eyes. Alphard placed the books and paper down on a chair next to them and pulled out a handkerchief out of his pocket and gave it to the crying man. With a shaking hand, he accepted the kind gesture.
The Evans family had been fighting a terrible and long custody battle with the ministry for the right to raise their daughter. It seemed ridiculous, but the fact was, Obscuruses weren't born. They were victims of parasites that needed a host with life-altering, traumatic, unforgettable experiences. Therefore, when Hermione was registered as an Obscurus at the astonishing young age of 72h, it was natural for questions to occur. It only took one suspicion of parental neglect and abuse for Hermione to be legally ripped out of her parents' arms, still in her swaddle and pink knitted cap. Hermione's twin sister, Lily, was also almost removed from the couple's care, but seeing how Lily didn't have a magical parasite within her, she was safely returned to her parents' desperate arms after two brutal weeks of court cases at the Ministry's Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Hermione's case was not so lucky (nor as successful) as her sister's. The couple was at an unbelievable disadvantage. They were muggles, newly introduced to the magical world, who couldn't afford the legal representation they required to win such a high stakes case. They lacked the basic foundational knowledge on what was truly wrong with Hermione, which didn't help when they tried to defend themselves from the onslaught by the Ministry's finest prosecution.
Despite all these losing battles, they still tried their hardest and were still fighting. It was all about 'losing the battle, but winning the war' to them. It didn't matter if their human rights were violated, as long as the Evanses thought it could help prove their innocence, they allowed it. They allowed the Ministry to look into their minds, their memories, their private lives. Anything to bring their daughter home. Yet the fact still remained, there was no other explanation for Hermione's obscurial, nor did the couple (as muggles) have the means to raise such a magically unstable child.
Until now.
"But before I explain, I must ask you, do you know this boy?" Alphard pulled out the newspaper and opened it for the couple to see the front page. In big bold letters, the breaking news read, Revenge of the Beast. He pointed to a child in the moving picture and waited expectantly for the Evanses to answer.
The couple stared at the moving picture, but shook their heads slowly.
"You need to be honest and you need think really hard. Have you ever met this boy before? Have you ever told Hermione about him? What about his parents?" This time Alphard pulled out two files, one of each parent, or so the Evanses assumed.
This time the couple turned to each other, but the same expression of confusion and lack of recognition reflected on each other's faces.
Alphard smiled.
"This is good." He told them, pushing the files away and placing one of the books he'd brought onto the table. He opened it up to the first page of a chapter that read The Seer: Clairvoyance. "This might be hard to believe, but I think your daughter is what we call a Seer."
"A Seer?"
Alphard nodded in confirmation. "It means someone who can see into the future."
"You're right, this is hard to believe." Mr. Evans whispered.
"I figured." Alphard nodded in understanding, but couldn't keep his excitement down. He pointed at the picture of the boy in the newspaper once more. "This child is my proof to you. He came into our hospital last night because of a near fatal bite from a werewolf."
"You guys have werewolves?" Robert asked, paling at the thought.
"Yes, Remus Lupin, age five, blood type A negative, severely bitten by a werewolf."
"That's horrible." Ivy whispered.
"My point is, Hermione knew the boy before any of us were able to get any type of information on him. She knew his name, his age, where he was bit, what his blood type was, what type of treatment he would need, and even why he was bit. She knew everything, somehow acquiring the information before everyone else."
"Maybe it was a coincidence, or maybe he was a returning patient."
Alphard shook his head, "No way she could guess his blood type through coincidence, and records tell us that he never stepped foot into this hospital before last night."
"But, what if—"
"You guys aren't getting it, if I'm correct, not only do we know the root cause of Hermione's nightmares, meaning we can treat the cause and not just the symptoms, we can also prove that you guys aren't evil parents who abuse their child. Her visions are what attracted the obscurial, not you guys. If we can prove this, you can take your daughter home."
"Home?" Ivy whispered the word with such hope that it struck a chord in Alphard's heart.
For five years, it'd become normal to see Hermione everyday, sitting in her private room reading a book, coloring, sewing and enjoying other indoor activities. It was routine, it was expected, and it was perhaps the first form of stability he'd ever had in his life. He could count on her to be this unchanging mystery that needed to be solved, a constant challenge, and a source of excitement for Alphard to come into work every day. Considering how Alphard had no life outside of work, Hermione had become a big deal in his life. To say that he'd grown fond of the stoic young girl would be an understatement. Due to visitation limitations during an ongoing trial, Hermione's parents had missed many of Hermione's firsts, but Alphard hadn't. He'd been there for her first words, her first steps, her first everything. Although he felt guilty to have witness the very thing her parents desperately desired to see, he was also grateful to be a part of something so precious.
"She'll still have to come back every few weeks to get check ups, get her potions up to date, see if there are any changes, since she's still under strict watch by the Ministry. But yeah," Alphard gave the couple a tight smile. "If we win, she's going home."
…
Green fire burned brightly in the fireplace, announcing someone had just arrived freshly out of the floo. The man that stepped out made everyone in the observatory stand up.
"Headmaster Dumbledore," St. Mungo's Hospital Director Jenkins was the first to walk up to the man and stretch out his hand for a handshake. "We did not expect to see you today, sir."
Albus Dumbledore wore fuchsia coloured robes with golden Celtic designs embroidered everywhere. The Headmaster of Hogwarts, as well as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot smiled at the Director as he grabbed the man's hand and shook it firmly. "From what I hear, this might be Little Miss Hermione's last trial, so I came to see how it will unfold."
"Please," Director Jenkins guided the Minister to a seat in the back, for optimal viewing experience.
Finally, the Ministry's prosecution entered the already cramped observatory, which meant the final trial would start. They gave Dumbledore a respectful nod of acknowledgement before turning to an anxious couple at the other side of the room, standing next to a man with black hair and signature grey eyes.
"Healer Alphard Black is on the case?" Dumbledore asked quietly to Director Jenkins who sat next to him.
"Yes, sir. He's been directly treating Miss Evans since she'd been admitted. He's one our best."
Dumbledore watched the odd white sheep in the Black family with knowing eyes. He knew that the man was treating the child, but he didn't know that he was helping the muggle couple for the custody of their muggleborn child. Despite knowing that Alphard Black was nothing like his relatives, it was still a sight to behold.
"Well, let's get this nonsense over with." A stout man with a thick mustache sighed. "Everyone in this room are busy people with serious jobs, so let's end this quickly."
Dumbledore recognized the man as Hyperion Greengrass, the lead representative of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and the main man who'd made the muggle family's life a living hell for the past five years.
"We have new findings that help us prove that we're not the monster you accuse us of being." Mrs. Evans spoke.
"Yes, Mrs. Evans." Greengrass nodded, sounding incredibly bored. "I saw your fantasy report. A Seer." He laughed, which made the rest of the DMLE representatives laugh along with him.
"We have proof." The woman spoke clearly, unfazed by the mockery the men made.
Dumbledore was silently impressed with the thin woman. When he first entered, she looked frail and helpless, he thought she'd be whimpering behind her husband, but something had changed when she started talking. She stood taller, head up, and a controlled rage rolled out of her. It was terrifyingly effective in getting all the men in the room to listen to her, rather than simply look at her.
"Fine," Greengrass rolled his eyes, clearly showing that he thought this was a futile attempt. "Parental custody hearing on the eighth of May, into offenses under the Decree for Abuse, Neglect and Harrassment Against an Underage Child by Ivy Maria Evans and Robert Clive Evans, resident at number two hundred and twenty nine, Victoria Road, Cokeswoth, Essex. Special court, taking place outside the Wizengamot court room due to limitations of transport of child in question; Hermione Katlin Evans. Interrogators: Hyperion Eurus Greengrass, Lead representative of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—"
"There isn't even a scribe, who are you repeating all this information for?" Mrs. Evans interrupted. "Let's just get on with it. Like you said, everyone in this room are busy people. We call Healer Alphard Black as our witness."
"Denied."
"What?!" Mrs. Evans cried. "Why?"
"He is your daughter's main physician, he's been with her since she was a newborn, there could be a conflict of interest."
"But, he's also the person who knows Hermione the best and—" she tried arguing, but the resolute look on the lead prosecutor's face told her he wasn't going to budge. "We call Healer Apprentice Thomas and Cardon as our witness, then."
"Who?"
"Exactly." Ivy Evans managed to look smug. "You can't deny them. They have no direct relationship with Alphard or Hermione or us."
"Den—" Greengrass spat out, but was quickly interrupted by one of his legal subordinates who whispered frantically into his ear. The words, 'unjust', 'liable', 'sue' could be heard which led to the man grumbling with reluctant defeat.
"Fine."
Alphard turned to the door, and waved the two nervous apprentices in. Their eyes zoomed to each face in the room to notice the big names and members of authority that were present. They promised their honesty, then were asked questions regarding the situation they'd witnessed a few days ago.
Everyone watched in silence, but even the prosecution couldn't help but gasp at all the information they were providing.
Next, Heather Bones walked in, submitting her memories of the days before the Ministry's election. To be precise, a week before the election when the Daily Prophet had both candidates on the front page. The expression of the prosecution was a mixture of shock and grimace after they viewed the memories of little Hermione Evans just over 29 months, pointing directly at the image of Minister Leach, telling Healer Bones and Healer Black that he'd be the next Minister of Magic despite his low ratings. She even went on to correctly describe the reason was due to the opposing candidate's illicit affair with a muggle-born witch who was a secretary.
"We will review these evidences and get back to—"
"I believe that won't be necessary." Dumbledore interrupted Hyperion Greengrass, clearly seeing that the older man was going to try to discredit both the witnesses and the memories of Heather Bones. "As the Chief Warlock, I remained silent for the duration of this trial because I was not involved since the beginning, but as someone who's reviewed the entire trial over the course of 5 years, the evidence is clear that the Evans family has never hurt their daughter. We are causing more damage to an innocent family by keeping their daughter apart. Hermione Evans will be returned to the family, immediately."
"But Chief Warlock Dumbledore, the child is an Obscurus. Are you claiming it's possible for a child to be an Obscurus that young? That a Mud—muggleborn child can be born a Seer? Some Pureblood families with centuries of magic in their blood have yet to produce a Seer, but a muggleborn child?"
The near slip of the detestable slur from Greengrass's lips didn't escape Dumbledore's notice. "You're right. It's impossible."
Greengrass smiled with a puff in his chest.
"But it seems to me that Hermione Evans is a girl that makes the impossible possible." He muttered. "She has precautionary potions and treatments, no?" The parents and guardians of the child nodded. "And she will be brought back to St. Mungo's for continuance on those potions and treatments, correct?"
"Of course, sir." Alphard Black reassured.
"It seems to me that the child and the adults are well prepared for any undesirable circumstances. Keeping Miss Hermione here against her will and keeping her parents from her is now a felony since their innocence have been proven. This is something the Ministry of Magic sincerely apologizes for." This time Dumbledore turned directly towards Hermione's parents and bowed deeply in apology.
Hyperion Greengrass looked as though the vein on his forehead would pop, but he knew that the battle was lost.
While the winning side celebrated with tears of joy, the losing side was dismissed quietly. Dumbledore glanced at the child, only to stop when he realized she was staring directly at him. It was impossible, she couldn't have been able to see through the glass and see him, yet there she was staring directly into his eyes.
"Impossible indeed." He whispered to her, wondering if she could hear him.