A/N: This marks the beginning of Prisoner of Azkaban. If you're marathoning this fic, this is a good place to stop and take a break. Are your eyes burning? Do you need some water? Are you neglecting your homework? Is it 3am and you desperately need to go to sleep?
If so, this is the place to pause. We'll be here once you've refreshed yourself and are ready to return :)
"But Mum—!"
"No!" Hermione's mother glared at her. "You are grounded."
"I swear, it's not as bad as the piece makes it out to be! I used a rooster to kill the basilisk, and then chopped the head off to look better—"
"But you went in the Chamber after it, didn't you?" her mother challenged. "You deliberately went after an enormous and deadly monster, despite us expressly forbidding you from doing so!"
"You didn't really forbid me," Hermione protested. "You just said that was what you wanted from me, and I agreed to only use the sword to protect me and my friends, but I did protect everyone when I—"
"Hermione Jean Granger!" her mother's voice was sharp, her eyes furious. "Do not play barrister with me! I am your parent, not a school rule you can wiggle your way around." Her hands went to her hips as she glared at Hermione. "You deliberately did something very dangerous and potentially deadly. You told us your school was safe, and then you went and risked your life! How are we supposed to feel about this, if not upset with you?!"
"Proud, maybe," her father said from his place on the couch, looking over the scrapbook Tracey had prepared. "Look, Jean – Hermione rescued her classmate from the basilisk. It carried him off into the Chamber. The boy gave a whole interview about it here."
Her mother glared down at her father, who grinned sheepishly and returned to looking at the scrapbook.
"Explain to me exactly what happened," her mother said, her voice curt. "Explain to me why we should not ground you for the entire summer and seriously reconsider sending you back to that school."
"The basilisk is dead now," Hermione said immediately. "With the basilisk dead, the school is safe, Mum. It's by far the safest wizarding school in Europe, and I have to go to a magic school, Mum."
"Do you?" her mother challenged, raising an eyebrow.
"She does, dear," her father said. "Remember when she fused her bullies into one mutant bully with one leg?"
Her mother gave a frustrated, exasperated sigh.
"Fine," she snapped. "You can go back to school. Explain to me why we shouldn't ground you for the entire summer."
Hermione bit her lip.
"I'll admit to being more prepared than the story in the paper lets on," she confessed. "I had a potion to make the basilisk's eyes swell shut, so it couldn't look at me, and I had a bag of roosters as well – the crow of a rooster is fatal to a basilisk."
"Is it really?" her father said, intrigued. "How curious. Good thought with the potion, too – always good to have a store of potions with you."
Her mother shot her father a dark look, which he cheerfully ignored.
"Though I did risk myself… I did so to help save my friends and the school," Hermione said honestly. "Draco was in the Chamber, Mum – I couldn't just let the basilisk kill him and eat him. I had the ability to help, so it was my responsibility to do so, for the good of the school."
Her mother groaned and rubbed her temples, while her father grinned.
"That sounds familiar," her father mused aloud, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Where I have heard that before?"
"Oh, hush," her mother snapped. "You know damn well it's on the wall."
It was, in fact, on the wall in her parents' home office, the quote 'Those who have the ability to take action have the responsibility to take action' emblazoned on a poster with two silhouetted figures, one helping the other to stand. The poster had once been on the wall in her playroom as a child, to encourage Hermione to be active and help others where she could, before it had been relocated to her parents' office.
Hermione suppressed a grin.
"It says here that she saved this kid's life, Jean," her father coaxed. "I'm not pleased with our daughter risking death either, dear, but would she really be our daughter if she just watched someone be dragged away to die?"
Her mother fixed Hermione with a sharp look, folding her arms.
"Two weeks," her mother snapped. "You are grounded for a fortnight, Hermione. You are to stay home and not go anywhere. And we will need to meet this Draco Malfoy," she added curtly. "I am well aware of how the media spins things. If this boy verifies your story, then we may consider not grounding you the entire summer."
Hermione groaned loudly.
"Mum! That's not fair," Hermione protested. "I have to testify at a trial next week! I might be held in contempt of court if I don't go!"
"Grounded from all activities other than legal responsibilities, then," her mother said, raising an eyebrow. "Better?"
"How am I supposed to have you meet Draco Malfoy?" Hermione protested. "He's – he comes from a family that doesn't interact with non-magical people. I can't imagine him ever coming over here!"
"Would you prefer we call on him at his home?" her mother asked pointedly, and Hermione winced. "You will figure out a way, Hermione. Because right now, I see an entire scrapbook indicating my daughter disobeyed my wishes, and I am going to need more convincing than your whinging and pleading to change my mind."
Hermione groaned. Her mother was being completely unreasonable.
"Wait, you won a medal?" her father said, surprised. He looked up at Hermione. "What is this, Hermione?"
"Wait, what?" Hermione said, surprised. "Did Tracey add something…?"
She sat down next to her father. He was on the last page of the scrapbook, and sure enough, there was one page that Hermione had not seen.
MINISTRY AWARDS ORDER OF MERLIN 1c TO THE HEROINE OF HOGWARTS
Hermione Granger becomes youngest person to ever receive an Order of Merlin
The article had a large photo of Cornelius Fudge draping the medal around her neck at the presentation ceremony, the crowd in the photo clapping enthusiastically. The little moving image of Hermione looked just as stunned as Hermione had felt in the moment, and the Fudge in the photo beamed up at her father and waved before the photo started over, looping the presentation again and again.
"Um," Hermione said. "Yes. I won an Order of Merlin, First Class. It's like… um…"
"Is this very important?" her father asked. "Or is this just a nice recognition and thank you?"
"The Order of Merlin, Second Class is roughly equivalent to a Knight Grand Cross of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire," Hermione said, thinking. "I think First Class is closer to a George Cross?"
Her father's eyebrows rose very high, and her mother choked.
"Are you serious?" her mother demanded, coming over and sitting down on her father's other side, eyes scanning the article. "Does it come with a title?"
"As far as I can tell, the Wizarding World doesn't have titles?" Hermione guessed. "I mean, they might, but if they do, I have no idea how they work. They might have the equivalent somehow. But no, I didn't get a title with this. It just means I get to write my name as 'Hermione Granger, O.M.' now."
"You're thirteen," her mother objected. "How did you win an award the equivalent of which the Queen would have to give you here?"
"I saved the premier school of magic in Great Britain from a terrible, centuries-old monster," Hermione pointed out, snarky. "They didn't care that I risked my own life – they cared that I saved hundreds of others."
Her mother rolled her eyes and sighed, while her father grinned.
"Well, I am proud of you," he told her, ruffling her hair. "You went on a quest, you defeated the boss, and you got your treasure. It says here this is solid gold – is it really?"
"It is. It's very heavy," Hermione said. "I packed it in my trunk. Do you want to see?"
Her father's eyes lit up. "Did you think I wouldn't?"
Her mother groaned as Hermione hurried from the room to go get her medal, and Hermione suppressed her giggles as she heard her mother begin bickering with her father over what values they really ought to be impressing upon their daughter.