1977 - Late March - Hogsmeade Village
Hermione sat by the window in the quiet kitchen, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The morning sun broke through the trees in the garden, casting a beautiful pattern over her mother's headstone. Her mother's necklace, a delicate phoenix with a ruby for a heart, hung heavy around her neck. The thought of leaving the safety of the manor for the first time made her stomach churn. Would she betray her mother's sacrifice by submitting herself to a potential threat? No, her mother had always told her to be brave, to face the world no matter how daunting it seemed.No turning back now, she thought to herself. It had taken nearly a week for her father to agree, and two days ago he finally relented.
"It would only be a short visit to Hogsmeade, Dad. Please!" Hermione had begged him. "You'd be close by if anything were to happen." Hermione paced up and down the kitchen. The frustration of being cooped up in the house for weeks while she recovered was getting to her.
"I'm worried, Hermione. You'vejustrecovered from an attack. I can't bear to have something else happen to you. We already lost your mother." Albus wiped a hand over his tired face. It wasn't like he didn't understand her; he truly did. But with the current climate of the Wizarding World, he was hesitant to let her leave the manor.
"I know, Dad. But I can't be cooped up in here forever," she argued back. "I'm a 22-year-old, fully trained witch. You should know you can trust me to handle myself."
Albus looked at his daughter with sad eyes. "I do trust you, Hermione. You know that." He had to admit to himself that his reluctance to let her go to Hogsmeade was more for his sanity than her safety. He could only imagine what it had been like for Hermione to be confined to the manor. She grew up in a beautiful seaside town, surrounded by family with the world at her feet. Now she spent her days at an empty manor—save for the few evenings he made it home for dinner—reading the day away with little else to occupy her time.
"Compromise," he suddenly said, pulling Hermione out of her thoughts. "I'll ask Euphemia Potter to accompany you. That way I have a little peace of mind, and you have the chance to get to know someone else from the order." He watched Hermione think his proposition over while running her fingers through her thick curls. She looked so much like her mother just then that Albus had to suppress a solemn sigh.
Hermione knew this was the best she would get, and his suggestion did make sense. After everything that has been happening, it would be foolish of her to leave the manor without at least a second witch or wizard by her side. Euphemia Potter was one of the witches who were there when she arrived, so Hermione was sure she was trustworthy.
"It would be lovely to have a little company. I've never been to Hogsmeade before, and it would be beneficial to have someone who knows the area," she finally agreed, and Albus' shoulder sagged with relief. He didn't like arguing with Hermione, especially not after everything she went through recently.
"Thank you, Minnie. You know I trust you implicitly. I just worry too much."
Hermione stood and paced the room. She understood her father's worries perfectly—she was worried herself. As much as she wanted to leave the manor and visit Hogsmeade, she wasn't sure if she was truly ready to be out in the open. She was going spare with nothing to do but read, yet the thought of being surrounded by loud noises and strangers made her palms sweat.
She had spent her morning getting ready and convincing herself not to cancel on Euphemia at the last minute. Her father told her yesterday at dinner that apparently going out with two sons wasn't nearly as satisfying for Euphemia as Fleamont liked to believe. Naturally, she jumped at the chance to be out and about with a young witch instead. Euphemia should be arriving any minute now, so there was no point cancelling now.
As if Euphemia felt her hesitation, the fireplace came to life, and a tall, dark-haired witch stepped out of the green flames, her emerald robes swirling as she dusted off a little soot. Her kind brown eyes crinkled with a smile as she looked Hermione over. Euphemia carried herself with confidence and warmth that had Hermione's nerve ease just a fraction.
"It's lovely to meet you, Hermione."
"You as well, Mrs. Potter," Hermione said, wiping her clammy hands on the skirt of her deep blue robes. "My father told me much about you." Technically, that was a lie. Most of the information she had came from Gideon, but Hermione decided Euphemia didn't need to know that.
"I doubt he did!" Euphemia laughed at her flabbergasted expression. "I'm well aware that the old man isn't much for gossip. It's alright though—we'll have plenty of time to get to know each other while we're out today."
"I look forward to hearing about your sons," Hermione replied with a little grin. "Ihaveheard much about them."
"Who hasn't?" Euphemia rolled her eyes with a chuckle and turned back to the fireplace. "Are you ready to head out? We best floo over to the Three Broomsticks and go about our day from there."
Hermione nodded and followed Euphemia quietly to the fireplace.
"See you in a moment," Euphemia said as she grabbed a handful of floo powder from a small satchel beneath her robes and disappeared with the green flames.
Hermione's fingers tighten around the floo powder in her hand. The thought of stepping into the bustling village made her heart pound in her chest. Shaking her head and with a sharp inhale, she threw the powder into the fire and stepped into the flames.
The air inside the Three Broomsticks was warm and thick with the scent of butterbeer and roasted chestnuts. Hermione froze just beyond the fireplace, her eyes quickly scanning the room. There was only a handful of people scattered about the pub, but her chest tightened at the unfamiliar faces. A fire was burning hungrily at a much larger fireplace on the opposite side of the room, the flickering of the flames casting dancing shadows over the stone walls.
Before the panic in her chest had any chance to spread, Hermione felt a comforting hand on her arm. "Breathe, dear," Euphemia murmured gently. "No one will harm you here. Would you like a cup of tea before we head out into the village?"
Hermione nodded, forcing herself to exhale as her feet moved automatically behind the older witch. Before she knew it, they were standing in front of a small table in a more private corner of the pub. Euphemia ushered Hermione to take the chair with the back to the wall while gracefully dropping into the other one. She eyed Hermione carefully as the young witch seemed to take a couple of deep breaths to collect herself before adjusting her posture to one of confidence.
"Thank you, Mrs. Potter."
"Whatever for?"
"For your patience as well as your company," Hermione said with a small smile. If Mrs. Potter noticed the way her knuckles tightened from gripping her hands too tight, she didn't draw attention to it. "It probably wasn't in your plans this week to visit the village."
"Nonsense, I'm glad to be out of the house for a little while. Fleamont has been rather busy at work the last week, and the boys won't be home for Easter break for a few weeks," she explained, leaning back into her chair. "And feel free to call me Euphemia—or Effie, if you'd like."
"Effie?" Hermione's heart warmed at the gesture. It wasn't just the offer to use the first name that touched her, but the kindness of allowing her to use such an intimate nickname as well.
"Sirius claimed my name to be too long.A right mouthful, he said. Now all of James' friends call me Aunt Effie," Euphemia explained with a fond smile on her face. Hermione had gathered from Gideon's stories that Euphemia cared much about her son and his friends. Seeing it firsthand warmed her heart, and her hand instinctively reached up to touch the little phoenix hanging from her neck.
"Euphemia Potter, as I live and breathe!" a melodic voice said from close by. "How long has it been since you've graced this old place?" Hermione looked up to see a striking witch with auburn curls and hazel eyes approaching their table. Hermione's body tensed instantly at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, her mind racing. Would this person ask questions Hermione couldn't answer? Would she comment on Hermione's tense posture? Were any of her scars visible?
"Rosie!" Euphemia exclaimed, her face lighting up with genuine delight, ignoring the way Hermione's entire body tensed up. "Far too long, I'm afraid. Though I heard Sirius came to visit you not too long ago."
"He sure tried, but he didn't stay too long," Rosmerta laughed, and Hermione had to hide a smile, knowing exactly how his visit had played out. "Who's this fine young lady?"
"That's Hermione. She's visiting with our family from Europe." Euphemia said it smoothly as if the story had been practised. Albus' warning echoed faintly in her mind, and she kept her voice light. "Hermione, this is Rosmerta, the owner of the Three Broomsticks and the daughter of a very close friend of mine."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Hermione. What would you like to drink?"
"We'd both like some tea, please," Euphemia ordered for both of them and turned her attention back to Hermione once Rosmerta made her way back to the bar.
"Rosmerta's mother, Margery, and I were inseparable at Hogwarts," she explained, leaning forward in her chair. "We once got detention for sneaking into the kitchens to convince the house elves to sing Christmas carols at breakfast the following morning. Rosie took over the Three Broomsticks from Margery a year after her graduation."
Hermione smiled faintly, imagining the joy of growing up in a place like this. "She seems kind."
"Oh, she is. And sharper than a goblin blade—if there's news worth knowing in Hogsmeade, Rosie's the one to ask," Euphemia said, her tone carrying a hint of pride.
Just then Rosmerta returned to their table with a full tray of tea and biscuits and a bright smile on her face. "I wish I had more time to chat today, but I need to prepare for lunch."
"Don't worry, Rosie. We'll be heading out after tea anyway to explore the village a little, seeing as Hermione's never been. I'll come by another time in the evening," Euphemia promised.
"Alright, but be sure to bring Fleamont along," Rosmerta said with a wink as she adjusted the tray under her arm. "Don't be a stranger, Hermione, and enjoy your time in Hogsmeade; it really is a beautiful village."
After Rosmerta returned to the bar, Euphemia told Hermione about all the shops and their owners. Hermione tried to listen attentively while sipping on her tea, but her eyes darted to a table near the bar. Two wizards huddled together in low conversation. One of them glanced in their direction briefly—but too long to be casual—before turning away. Hermione's chest tightened, and she dropped her gaze to her tea. Her fingers tightened around the cup while she tried to return her focus to Euphemia's voice. The older witch was describing a sweetshop calledHoneydukes, and Hermione tried to imagine every detail that was described to her.Focus on the ordinary, she told herself.
As they finished their tea, Euphemia placed her empty cup down with a soft clink and smiled at a very tense Hermione. "Ready to see the village?" she asked, her tone light.
Hermione hesitated; the memory of the wizards' gaze lingered at the edge of her mind, but Euphemia's steady presence grounded her. She took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes, I think so."
Euphemia stood and smoothed her robes with effortless grace. "It's quieter during the week," she said reassuringly, knowing exactly what was going through Hermione's mind. "Plenty of time to take everything in at your own pace. We'll start with Honeydukes—no trip to Hogsmeade is complete without a visit."
Hermione gave Euphemia a faint smile as she rose to follow her. The warmth of the pub was replaced by the brisk spring air as they stepped outside. The cobblestone streets were damp from the morning mist, and shop signs swayed gently in the breeze. Hermione scanned her surroundings in awe instead of fear. She heard quite a lot about the magical village, but nothing prepared her for how magnificent it really was. A witch in dark purple robes rushed past them on her way to what seemed to be the Owl Post service, while a group of witches strolled out from a shop down the street.
"Over there is Scrivenshaft's," Euphemia said, gesturing towards said shop. "And down the lane, you'll find Gladrags Wizardwear. Honeydukes is just up this way."
Hermione followed Euphemia's gesture; her eyes traced the path to a cheerful shop with brightly painted windows. She focused on the sound of her boots clicking against the stone as she walked next to Euphemia. "Euphemia?" she said quietly, her voice steady. "Thank you for today. I mean it."
Euphemia turned her head slightly, her smile warm. "Of course, dear. I think you're doing quite well. Now, come on—Honeydukes awaits, and I won't let you leave without at least a bag full of sweets."
Hermione had spent a good amount of galleons on sweets, enough to last her until the summer. If Euphemia had had her way, she'd be leaving with the entire shop in tow. She made sure to buy some for her father as well; his sweet tooth was rivalled by no one else she knew.
"Is there any shop you'd like to visit?" Euphemia asks as they stroll out of the sweet shop. "Well, besides the bookstore." Albus had mentioned that Hermione was an avid reader and warned her that the young witch would most likely spend most of her time atTomes and Scrolls.
Hermione chuckled at Euphemia's observation. "If there is a potion supply store or an apothecary, I'd like to see what they have in stock."
"Yes, there is one right around the corner here,J. Pippins Potions. It's where most students buy their supplies from during the school year."
Hermione followed Euphemia down a narrow path and around a corner where she could easily spot the store in question. The store window was painted bright turquoise, and the windows were fogged up, most likely due to a potion brewing inside. Hermione inhaled deeply when she entered the store. The musky scent from the dragon scales and the earthy note of the different herbs filled her with joy.
Hermione's fingers brushed over jars of dried asphodel and powdered moonstone, wandering down the shop's aisles and mentally noting the available ingredients.
"Do you need anything specific?" Euphemia asked, her tone light but curious.
"I'm not sure," Hermione replied, hesitating momentarily. "I was thinking of brewing a little to pass the time. It's been a while since I brewed anything, so I'm mostly looking around, familiarising myself with all the ingredients available."
Euphemia smiled. "Then we'll take as much time as you need."
While Euphemia waited by the counter, Hermione continued looking through the shop, grabbing a wicker basket. When she made her way up to the counter, the basket was filled with Dittany leaves, Horklump juice, Flobberworm mucus, and other ingredients she needed for various healing potions. Euphemia bestowed her with an amused grin as she watched her put the basket on the counter.
"Did you find everything you need?" The shop owner asked her kindly as he started to ring up her purchase.
"Almost. I was wondering if you had any moonstone dust, dragon liver, and salamander blood." Her gaze shifted to the ageing shopkeeper behind the counter.
"I'm afraid I'm all out at the moment. However, I can place an order with one of my suppliers. You can either come by the shop in a day or two, or I'll mail them to you once they arrive."
"It would be lovely if you could deliver the ingredients to Potter Manor, Thomas," Euphemia spoke up from beside Hermione, and the wizard agreed, making note of the required amount of each ingredient.
Once Hermione had paid for her purchase, they made their way outside, the streets gradually filling with bustling villagers, most likely on their way to lunch. They ventured further down the main street, exploring the northern part of the village. Hermione even accompanied Euphemia to the clothing store without too much protest.
"That's the Hog's Head," Euphemia said as they stepped out of theGladrags Wizardwearand nodded towards a crooked sign hanging above a narrow alleyway. "Best avoided unless you've got a fondness for goats or questionable company."
Hermione's gaze lingered on the weathered door. The pull to head over there was undeniable. To know her uncle was probably just a few meters away from her. She berated herself quietly.He probably won't even recognise you. "It seems... quiet," she said instead, more to herself than to Euphemia.
"Probably for the same reason you should avoid the establishment," Euphemia chuckled, and Hermione wondered if the witch knew that the owner of the dodgy pub was her uncle. Her father rarely spoke of Aberforth to her; it could very well be that he never mentions him to anyone else either. With an internal sigh, Hermione tore her eyes away and followed Euphemia back to the main street.
The two witches made their way back towards the Three Broomsticks, as a familiar voice called out from behind them.
"Well, this is a surprise."
Hermione turned abruptly to see Gideon striding towards them, a grin on his face. His Auror robes were slightly rumpled and a spot of ink was smeared on his left sleeve.
"Gideon!" Euphemia exclaimed warmly. "What are you doing out of the Ministry? I was sure Alastor had you hexed to your table by now."
"I was hoping to grab a few supplies," he said casually. "Didn't expect to run into such excellent company, though." His eyes lingered longer on Hermione than necessary, and his smile softened. "Hermione."
"Hello, Gideon," she said quietly, her lips curving into a genuine smile. The familiarity of his presence had the same effect a calming draught would have on her, easing the rest of the tension out of her body.
Euphemia glanced between them, her brows lifting. "You two know each other?"
Gideon opened his mouth, but Hermione spoke first. "He's helped me out a few times." It wasn't a lie per se - his company in the library the past couple of days had been invaluable to her. She found herself looking forward to seeing him at the manor.
Hearing her words, his grin turned lopsided, and he stood a little taller. "I'd say she's helped me more. You've no idea how hard it is to find someone who can discuss advanced potions without my brother interrupting every five seconds."
Euphemia laughed at this. "I can imagine Fabian's commentary, though I didn't know potions were your area of interest either."
"Not officially, but Hermione here can be very convincing, especially when you try to get her to read something else once in a while," Gideon replied smoothly. "Speaking of convincing..." His eyes shifted to the bag in Hermione's hand, his grin widening. "I see I convinced you to head to Honeydukes. Find anything good?"
Hermione rolled her eyes at his comment. "You only nagged me about it for thirty minutes when I told you about my visit to the village with Euphemia." She shifted the bags in her hand before pulling out a small bag of toffees and holding it toward him. "You mentioned those once or twice. I thought you might like them."
His eyes lit up, genuine surprise flickering across his face. "You bought me toffees?" He took the bag, his fingers brushing hers briefly, sending a flicker of warmth through her body. Hermione glanced at him, surprised at how easily his presence calmed her frayed nerves.
"I wanted to buy you some ginger snaps, but unfortunately they don't sell those at Honeydukes," Hermione said with a pout, earning herself a chuckle from the tall ginger.
"You made my day either way. Thank you, Hermione," he said softly squeezing her hand briefly.
Euphemia didn't miss the soft looks exchanged between them or the way Hermione seemed to relax in Gideon's presence. "Helping each other a few times?" Her eyebrows were raised in a teasing manner, looking between the young adults. "I think I must join you two for one of your potions discussions one day."
"You're welcome to," Gideon said easily, though his attention lingered on Hermione for a moment longer. "But for now, I'd best be off. Alastor is waiting for me at the office."
Euphemia waved him off with a laugh. Hermione's gaze followed him as he walked away, the toffees swinging lightly in his hand. He glanced back once, throwing her a quick smile, before disappearing around the corner.
"Well," Euphemia said after a pause, her tone teasing. "What a coincidence that we ran into Gideon today of all days."
Hermione blinked, catching the meaning behind the words. "What? No, we're just..." She trailed off, the words feeling inadequate.
"Relax, dear. It's really none of my business. Now, let's get back to the manor, shall we?" Hermione nodded, falling into step beside Euphemia.
Euphemia's implication that Gideon visited the village on purpose kept her mind occupied the rest of the way. Did he not trust her to be out and about? The thought stung, but she couldn't deny the flicker of warmth it brought—that he cared enough to check on her.