Hermione Granger and the Year Hidden from Hogwarts

Harry Potter Fanfiction

Chapter 19

A/N: Here we are, an end to your cliffhanger, though I would argue that you didn't suffer much since this came out less than twenty-four hours later 😉

April 18th, 1992

Hermione's breath caught.

Flitwick apologized. "I'm sorry for my poor choice of words. I should say, it's nothing bad or dangerous, but for such an inquisitive young witch as yourself, you won't be happy to learn that I don't have an answer for why you were shielded from the Book of Admittance."

Hermione nodded.

"I ran every test I could think of, including some potently powerful ones. They all came back inconclusive. I can tell there's an ancient, powerful magic cast over you, but I'm unable to determine the extent of it, what it is, or how it got there. Quite frankly, its some of the most impressive spell work I've ever seen, and it's on a Muggle-born who's supposedly never been around magical people before. It's most unusual."

Hermione grinned, her relief helping to find her humor. "Don't you mean uncommon?"

Flitwick raised an eyebrow at her cheekiness. "No, I'm afraid this just isn't a rare instance, it's… bizarre." He pondered something. "Are you adopted, Miss Granger?"

The Earth titled beneath her feet. "No," she breathed. Not that she knew of.

He must've sensed her hesitation but was perceptive enough not to comment on it. "Hmm. In any case, perhaps it would be to just get this sorted out at Gringotts. The goblins use blood magic and many of the old ways to conduct their business, so we'll be able to learn a little bit more about your family's history at that time."

And possibly discover if they even were her family.

"Gringotts?" she questioned, latching onto the simplest concept in his loaded words.

"A bank. The goblins like their treasure, so they run the currency systems for the Wizarding World."

"Oh, good. At least it's not run by dragons," Hermione joked weakly. Everything felt a little too Lord of the Rings, and it would terrify her to have to ask for a withdrawal from some Smaug reincarnation.

"Run by, no, but the goblins do employ one to guard their most secure vaults."

"A dragon?" she checked, because she needed to hear it repeated.

Flitwick's mustache twitched in amusement. "Yes."

Hermione leaned back in her seat, convinced more than ever that the Wizarding World had a way to keep their lives a secret from… what had he called people like her parents? Muggles?

If there were giant flying reptiles the size of buses—or bigger—flying around, she would've read about it in the news.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Are there any books on… well anything? Everything? I'm feeling lost here."

"Of course, Miss Granger! In fact, I do have some documents with me to answer some of your most pressing questions. Concerning the owl, since you're Muggle-born, your parents and you will have the opportunity to tour Diagon Alley with Minerva, from there, you'll be able to make your decision and post your response at the Owl Post Office that day for only three sickles."

The Wizarding World had its own currency. That made sense.

Hermione glanced around the room. "What if we would need more time to make a decision?"

Flitwick startled, as if it had never occurred to him that students completely new to the Wizarding World might consider denying this opportunity.

"Don't get me wrong," Hermione rushed to explain, not wanting him to think she wasn't grateful for this chance. "I would love to go—"

"I don't mean to be crass, but money is not a concern. There are funds for students—"

"Oh, no! No, that's not it." Her parents were well off, and they'd long ago opened her own account with earnings from her work with MI5. Now, living there full-time, her retainer was quite substantial, so she wouldn't have to worry about work for a long time after graduating if she didn't want to. "I'm just not sure it's an option for me with the job that I have…" she trailed off.

"Job? Miss Granger, what do you mean by having a job? Aren't you in school?" Flitwick asked. He paused and glanced around the room. A thought seemed to occur to him. "What are you doing here again? I know it's the Easter holidays, but this isn't a vacation destination."

"It is if you're me," she breathed. Hermione debated with herself once more. What should she tell him?

Taking a deep breath, Hermione prepared herself to answer. "Since the beginning of the year I've worked and lived from MI5 headquarters. I no longer attend school."

"You work for the government, then. That's why your letter was addressed the way it was. Albus had wondered…" Flitwick mumbled to himself. "What exactly do you do for the government, Miss Granger?"

She shrugged. "I used to talk to ghosts for the most part and try to help out on missing person cases when I could. That was usually outside of school hours. Ever since we stumbled on Invisibilis though, a disappearing, silvery apelike creature that we assumed was the work of a haunting, things have changed."

Flitwick's saucer rattled as he sat his cup on the small table. "You stumbled across a demiguise? Those are notoriously difficult to track!" he squeaked.

Hermione tilted her head, cataloging the name and wondering if where she could get her hands on some books with information about magical creatures. "I imagine so, especially when they turn invisible, which was why they needed me to help them capture the creature."

Flitwick frowned. "But the demiguise is invisible, even to wizards."

"Is it because I'm a witch, then?" Hermione asked. "You've called me that a couple of times now."

Flitwick blinked. "Oh, it's a bit overwhelming explaining things to a Muggle-born. I had no idea the magnitude of what Minerva faced in these meetings. Not that that's a bad thing, Miss Granger, but I seem to keep forgetting to explain the most basic of things. Wizards and witches are simply gender-based, and when referring to the collective, the masculine is used."

"Like using 'ils" in French or "ata" in Albanian for a mixed group."

"Yes, it—you speak French and Albanian?"

"The maternal side of my family hailed from France, so I was raised bilingual, but with my accelerated studies, my school afforded me the option for self-led studies which I usually spent learning languages."

"All of that and skipping a year!" he laughed. "Oh, you'll do Ravenclaw proud. But, back to the matter at hand. It's not normal for witches or wizards to see a demiguise."

Hermione's hopes fell. "Well, is there a book on what is or isn't normal?"

Flitwick was rather observant. He scooted to the end of his chair, clasping his hands in front of him. "Miss Granger, I'm not sure if you noticed, but I'm quite short."

Hermione released a watery chuckle, surprised at both the fact that she was tearing up and that he'd managed to make her laugh in her distress.

"There is goblin in my line, and school was not the easiest because of that. Most of my peers accepted me, but there are always a couple that will hold ignorance around them like a shroud and lash out."

Billy Winkler and Hannah Thorne came to mind.

Flitwick continued his story. "Half-breed was the nicest insult they called me, and I often found myself in the middle of duels where I was outnumbered."

Again, Hermione's hopes sank at the confirmation of bullying within this exciting new world. Doubtlessly, she'd be subject to much the same, especially if she was unusual or uncommon or just all around too different as she'd discovered.

"So, believe me when I say you don't have to fear anything from me. In fact, I'm one of the best people you could talk to because I know what it's like. I lived it, and I grew all the stronger for it. There's a shelf full of trophies in my closet to show for it."

Hermione nodded, inspired and buoyed by his success story. She held his gaze and switched visions, watching the world wash over in dark black, broken up by the paths of energy.

She took the time to admire Flitwick's core. His natural state was a particular shade of linden green. Supporting his words, in spite of his diminutive size, he oozed power.

With a blink, she returned to normal since she couldn't get a read on his expressions in that state.

His mouth had parted as he stared. Noticing her eyes had stopped glowing, he blinked out of his shock. "There are rumors, of course, but… to see it in person."

Her nerves jumped as she nearly fell off the edge of her seat when she moved so fast. "You know about this?"

"I would have to check, but based on what you've shown and mentioned, I would say you're a Visiomagus."

Hermione nodded, instantly recognizing the Latin roots. "Visio meaning vision, and magus for magician. I call it metavision."

Flitwick huffed. "Don't tell me you know Latin as well."

Hermione shrugged, "When we were at the Vatican, I was trying to find information explaining why I was the way I was, and most of the ancient texts had a lot of Latin. The etymological implications amazed me. It's a dead language, but it inspired so many of our words today, so I decided to study it. And I might've been procrastinating on Mandarin which was extremely difficult until I broke through my learning plateau."

Flitwick looked like he wanted to ask more, but he shook his head decisively. "I can understand why your government would be interested in you. Visiomagi have the ability to read objects, speak with the dead—even the dead that don't want to be seen—" He broke off. "So this agency you work for—"

"MI5."

"Yes, they think you're a psychic?"

Hermione nodded. "Albeit a rather strong one. There are others, mostly adults, but they had to redo the scale of abilities when I came along."

Flitwick nodded in thought. "Probably distant descendants of squibs—err, children born from magical families that possess no magic of their own. It's a good thing that's what the government thinks. There would be serious implications if they'd gotten any hints of magic due to the Statute of Secrecy. But still, why would they have allowed your muggle agency to get their hands on a demiguise?"

Hermione chose to keep Ignis and Erl a secret for now, worried that she was in trouble already and not wanting to push it. "Well, they might've done something. When I talked about Invisibilis, that was what I named the… demiguise, no one was able to remember anything from that trip. The pages of notes in my journal had even gone blank."

Flitwick nodded, his shoulders losing some of their tension. "That sounds like the work of an Obliviation squad. The Ministry of Magic deploys people that specialize in memory charms. The Obliviate spell targets a single person's memory, or in this case, a specific event so that anyone or anything in connection to that is affected."

"Oh, that's how they keep the Wizarding World so well hidden. That definitely would explain the missing pages."

The frown had returned to Flitwick's face. "Yes, and I reckon that you are able to still able to recall the events due to the same magic that kept you hidden from Hogwarts and the Ministry." He shook his head. "I'm very curious about what your bloodwork would show when we go to Gringotts. I've half a mind to take you there now."

Again, his mention of blood reminded her that he suspected she couldn't be an actual Muggle-born, that her parents weren't her actual parents, and that made her miss them all the more.

"But, no matter. We'll have our answers eventually, although, blame it on my Ravenclaw curiosity, but would you mind terribly if I was the one to escort you on that trip? Normally McGonagall takes the Muggle-born families as a group, but I would be honored to accompany you on this. You might appreciate the privacy," he hinted.

Right, if the world as she knew it got yanked out from beneath her feet, she might not want to do that from within a crowd.

"I would appreciate that, professor."

Flitwick nodded. "Good then, that's settled. Since I'll be taking on the role as your mentor—"

"You will?"

"Of course, Miss Granger. Your sorting is all but a formality. I'm positive I'll be your Head of House when the term starts."

"Right."

"So, as your future Head of House, I'll act as your advocate as well. Since they've not had the discussion on whether you'll be a first or second year, what is your preference so that I can speak on your behalf?"

Hermione had never been one to back down from knowledge, and the small teases of what one could do with a wand? She wanted to learn as much as possible as fast as possible. "I would prefer to start as a second-year student."

Flitwick chuckled. "You barely let me finish my sentence before you answered."

"I didn't need time to think it over. If I'm allowed to attend, that would be my preference."

He waved off her last statement. "I wouldn't worry too much about that if I were you, Miss Granger. Now, Albus might require you to sit some exams to prove you'll be able to hold your own if we go that route, so I think it would be best not to wait until the end of term to visit Diagon Alley. You'll need materials to study."

Oh, he was talking her language now. She nodded eagerly.

"I've classes during the week, assuming you get weekends off as well, would you be okay with going sometime in the near future?"

"Absolutely! I have so many questions! I can't wait to read more. Of course, we'd have to go between half nine and half one when I'm scheduled for physical training—oh, and so long as I'm not away on an expedition like this one."

Flitwick nodded. "Four hours should be plenty of time to gather your supplies and make a trip to the bank. Here," he pulled free a locket with a small mirror on the inside. "Open this and call my name on a Saturday when you're ready to go, and I'll answer. It's a two-way communication mirror, and I have the twin. It'll be much faster and more discrete than owls trying to gain entry into a secret government site."

Hermione immediately clasped it around her neck.

"And in the meantime, since I know you'll be dying with curiosity" –he pulled out something small from his pocket, tapped them with his wand, and resized them. They were books. "These are from my personal collection. Some of them are in Goblish—or Gobbledygook as wizards call it—but with such a skilled linguist as yourself, feel free to take a crack at them if you find yourself racing through the others. These should tide you over until we can go to Diagon Alley."

Hermione couldn't believe her eyes. "Oh, professor, I couldn't."

"I insist! From one ravenous Ravenclaw to another," he said with a wink. "Although… I'm not sure how we'll get them to your dorm. I'd shrink them again, but you wouldn't be able to resize them once you got back to your room."

There were around a dozen books there.

"Leave them here. They're old enough to blend into the setting, and I'll sneak them into my overnight bag when the coast is clear."

Flitwick grinned. "I'll do you one better." He tapped them with his wand. "There, a variation of the Notice-Me-Not charm. Now they won't see the contents of what you're reading if you don't have any privacy for your studies."

Hermione felt like she could burst with joy. Unable to restrain herself, she shot forward, hugging the professor as she thanked him a thousand times.

He laughed and patted her back. "My pleasure, Miss Granger."