While the Grangers had waited for their flight home, despite her best efforts, Hermione had cried. The trip had just been so very much, and a large part of Hermione desperately longed for it to not be over. Her mother and father had exchanged glances, before quietly ignoring Hermione, a respite Hermione was deeply appreciative for. She suspected her parents had their own suspicions about just how close she had grown with Fleur (how could they not?), but they left her to mourn and recover from her small heartbreak on her own, in private, for which she was deeply glad.

Hermione hid the butterfly gift Fleur had given her in her pocket, to look at on the flight. A courting gift, but not. It would be a courting gift if she had stayed in France, but as it was, it was just a beautiful token of Fleur's esteem and love, one she would keep and treasure close. It wasn't as if she'd be able to ever wear it out and about – people would demand to know who had given it to her, and it would cause an uproar. But it really was a beautiful piece.

Hermione cried a bit more on the plane before falling asleep. She felt better upon waking up, the gray skies of England greeting her with familiarity, and by the time the Grangers left the airport and made their way back to their house, Hermione felt happy to be home.

Still, Hermione was glad she'd gotten to go away for part of the summer this year. It truly felt like a holiday, and the change of scenery and pace had helped clear her mind, and she felt ready for the new school year to start more than ever.

To her surprise, Hermione had letters waiting for her at home. She'd thought owls would come and find her wherever she was, even in France; to find that they'd just gone to her house was new. Hermione wondered if it had to do with her having the protection blood ward on the house – maybe they'd traced her magic here and been confused? But if that was the case, how did she get owls up at the school?

The first letter was short and sweet.

Dear Hermione,

You get back from France today! I hope you had a great time.

I know you're probably busy getting ready and repacking for Hogwarts, but if you have the time, do you want to come to Diagon Alley tomorrow? Ron will be there, I think – I haven't seen him or the Weasleys there yet, and I think they're getting back from Egypt today too. I owled Neville to see if he might come as well, but I think his Grandmother has something planned for his last day before term.

If you want, you could spend the night at the Leaky Cauldron too? We could split a cab to get to King's Cross, or we could leave early and take the Tube. I don't know how you usually get there, but because it'll be a weekday, I thought your parents might have to work and you might need a ride too.

If not, I'll see you on the Hogwarts Express.

—Harry

Hermione smiled. She needed to go to Diagon Alley one last time before heading to school, so that would work out well. Though, she still needed to talk to her parents about how they'd feel about having a cat around the house during the summers…

For that matter, she still wanted to talk to her coven before they all left for school, and Tracey and Millicent as well, if she could. She made a mental note to write them all letters or Floo them after she finished with her mail.

The second letter was from Cedric, and it also caught her by surprise.

Dear Hermione,

I've tried to write this letter a million times, but it always comes out sounding like I'm making excuses or trying to deflect the blame, and that's not my intent at all. But it's important you understand all the circumstances around the situation, because truly, Hermione, it wasn't my fault.

Toward the end of July, my father got wind of my being nominated for Youth Representative at the Ministry from someone. When he heard I'd turned it down, he was shocked, and by the time he got home, he was angry.

He demanded to know why I would turn down such an honor when it would be such a great stepping stone into the career I want at the Ministry (I don't want a Ministry career), then if a girl was truly worth throwing away my future for (If it's a future working at the Ministry? You're worth it in a heartbeat), and what could I possibly have been thinking? He didn't actually want answers from me, though – he only wanted to yell – but as a punishment, he forbade me from going on Election Day. I had supported you enough, he said, and if you couldn't win without my public support, you shouldn't win at all. I think he knew I wasn't planning on campaigning for you or anything, just being there and supporting you, but he did it more to hurt me, I think, than to actually prevent anything.

It honestly didn't occur to me until after the election that I could have disobeyed him. He was at the Ministry for most of the day, even though it was a Saturday. I could have slipped out of the house, voted, and come back. And even I had been caught, what could he have done then? The summer was almost over, and it's not like he'd dare forbid me from going back to Hogwarts.

But I didn't think of it. I sat at home, angry, doing nothing but reading a spellbook while you were at the election. And so I didn't vote for you.

I know you were there the whole time, so you must have noticed my absence. And after my very public support of you at the nomination, not seeing me there must have hurt. I wanted to make sure you didn't think I had betrayed you, Hermione, and that you knew that I earnestly would have been there to support you and vote for you if my father had not disallowed it.

But know, nevertheless: I am truly sorry for not being there and voting for you.

I look forward to seeing you again soon.

Yours,

Cedric

Hermione gnawed at her lip.

Cedric's letter was impassioned, full of anxiety and angst and torn-up feelings about missing the election. He'd fought his father because of nominating her, and he'd gotten grounded for it. He'd even considered how she might feel, not seeing him, and wanted to offer a reason and apology to her to reassure her.

And… she hadn't noticed he hadn't shown up to Election Day at all.

At all.

She'd been so preoccupied with campaigning and the banner and Blaise's teasing and the hedgewitches that she honestly hadn't thought about it at all. At all. She noticed when Harry had shown up, but if he hadn't shown up, Hermione wasn't sure it would have occurred to her to look and wonder why.

Still. With Cedric being so upset about it all, it'd hardly do to admit that to him. She'd have to go for gracious and understanding and forgiving.

Hermione sighed, reaching for the last letter. It was written on thicker paper, the ink stinking of something somehow, and the paper was splattered with splotches.

To Hermione Granger:

I am writing to you again, now that I know that you exist. I learned you have been quite busy. You testified at trial and proved you could not claim to be Muggle-born in front of the assembled Wizengamot. I heard you ran for youth representative and won the children's seat on the Wizengamot. And I heard you went to walk among the hedgewitches.

I am so excited for you. Already you are making waves, and those will turn into bigger and bigger waves. I cannot wait until you restore the magic of the hedgewitches, helping them rise to their rightful place in society. I know they have been kept down since muggles began stealing their magic to have Muggle-born children, and they will be so happy to have you fighting for them on their side. Surely this is a sign that Magic truly does favor us again through you.

I know you have to go back to school soon. Before you do, you should write a pamphlet on your ideology and what Magic seeks from the magical people once again. It would be much easier for people to follow you and support your agenda if they knew what it was explicitly. You could also include suggestions of things to do to help in the pamphlet. That way people could work towards your Magical future while you are busy at school.

I am so honored and excited to live in these unprecedented times. Whenever I feel dark and depressed (which is often), I focus on the knowledge that the first New Blood of an age is alive at the same time I am, and that Magic is among us once more. It isn't quite a happy thought, but one of a steely determination to help and to do what is necessary, so it steadies me throughout the dread of my days. Again, as soon as I am able, I will help you and support you as best I can. You are destined and chosen by Magic to lead us and guide us to a new magical renaissance, and I will aid you in your quest however I can.

Yours truly,

Again, the signature was a smear. Hermione stared at the letter, rereading parts of it over and over.

Who was this person? Where had they gotten this notion that she was going to push the wizarding world into a magical renaissance? Hermione was quite sure her prophecy didn't say anything about that.

Hermione was somewhat shaken, though, by the writer's comments on restoring the magic of the hedgewitches. Hermione knew she couldn't quite restore their magic to them – whatever magical atrophy had happened to their magical stores during their teenage years couldn't be undone – but she could at least prevent it from happening more, and she could teach them to use the magic of the ley lines around them to hopefully give them some magical agency of their own.

The idea of muggles stealing their magic, though, was simply ludicrous. Pureblood supremacists had been the ones to push that narrative. They needed someone to push and keep down if they wanted to rise up and stay on top, and their tenants had proven to be the perfect victims to their stupid storytelling. If Hermione wrote a pamphlet on anything, it would be that, first, she thought. But she had only just joined the Wizengamot and hadn't even been to a meeting; she wasn't about to start publishing documents of public dissent.

Yet, at least.

But how had this person heard of this? It wasn't exactly public, that she'd gone to fraternize with the hedgewitches. Only her campaign team had known, really, save the hedgewitches themselves. How had this person known?

Ultimately, Hermione supposed, it didn't matter. Without a signature of someone to mail back to and the original owl long gone, there was nothing she could do about it. She firmly put the strange fan letter from her mind to reply to Harry and Cedric instead, mentally drafting the missive she'd need to send to her coven and her friends as well.

Hermione's parents were amenable to her spending the last night before she was to catch the train at the Leaky Cauldron with her friends.

"It really would be more convenient," her mother admitted. "The answering service has been booking all emergency cases for us for right after we'd returned, and for one of us to have to take half a day—"

"Which means we'll have to have your send-off party tonight!" her father declared, grinning.

Hermione blinked. "My what?"

Hermione's parents had decided, apparently, that because they would not get to see her for so long and would miss her birthday, that they were going to throw her a small party and give her gifts early. It was innocuous enough – Hermione's mum made her favorite dishes, and her father had ordered a dozen cupcakes from a well-known bakery – and the evening passed with laughter, stories from France, permission to get a cat, and inquiries into what Hermione intended to get up to at school this year.

"Not adventure," Hermione told her Dad firmly, to her mother's approving nod. "I'll have four new classes this semester, so probably a lot of studying, I'd imagine, that I'll have to balance with my work on the Wizengamot." She paused. "Students are allowed to visit the village on the weekends this year, though, so I might do that. I need one of you to sign the permission slip, though."

"Bring it here," her mother said agreeably.

The slip was signed without much fanfare, though her father smirked.

"A wizarding village?" he asked. "Are you sure there's no adventure lurking there?"

"Students have been going there for ages," Hermione said, rolling up the slip and packing it away. "There's an old abandoned building called 'the Shrieking Shack' that's rumored to be haunted, but no one even goes inside."

That threw her parents.

"Wizards have haunted buildings?" her mother asked, surprised. "I thought your entire castle was haunted by ghosts."

Hermione bit her lip. "Well, yes, but—"

"Can you not see some ghosts?" her father asked, his eyes wide. "Can they go invisible?"

It took Hermione a moment to put together her thoughts.

"It's kind of similar to hauntings here," Hermione said. "If there's weird activity going on with no known cause, the place is said to be haunted. The Shrieking Shack is said to have had horrible shrieks and screams coming from it in the dead of night some nights, but no one knows why, so it's said to be haunted. Contrast this with Hogwarts, where if a ghost was doing something weird, we'd know it was the ghost doing it, so it wouldn't be haunted to us at all."

"A haunted building not being haunted, and a building being called haunted precisely because it's not haunted at all," her father said, shaking his head. "Sometimes I think your people just use words without any regard for what they mean."

Hermione secretly agreed.

To her surprise, her parents had gotten presents for her as well, to give her now instead of waiting for her birthday. Her mother had gotten her some new clothes and robes, along with a few muggle textbooks: a few on mathematics, and a few on the writing of ancient cultures.

"You said you're starting Arithmancy and Ancient Runes," she said with a smile. "I thought you might like to have the un-magical versions as a contrast or additional resource."

"This is great," Hermione said honestly, flipping through one of the math books. "We never got past Algebra at muggle school. Thanks, Mum!"

Her father, as his gift, had decided to bestow upon her things that were utterly crucial for her to have, he told her seriously. Hermione had been worried until she opened the package, and then she started to laugh.

"Oh, Richard, really?" her mother asked with a sigh.

Her father grinned. "It's just for fun."

Her father had given her a set of his adventuring books – not fiction ones, but the odd guidebooks that he used when he played adventuring with his friends once a week. He'd also included a traditional wizard hat for her that looked like it was from Disney's Fantasia, and Hermione wondered if she'd be able to pass it off as a gift to Dumbledore under some excuse.

"Even if you don't have time to learn and play with your friends, I thought it could help you think creatively," he told her with a smile. "I don't know if you have some of the magical items in your world that non-magical people have dreamed up, but if you don't, maybe you could get ideas from these for some of your practical assignments."

"This is brilliant, Dad," she assured him, giving him a hug. "Thanks."

"At least it's fictional adventuring this year," her mother said with a huff, but her eyes were fond as she pulled Hermione into a hug as well.