The door clicked softly behind her.

Hermione stood just inside the threshold of the mind healer's office, clutching the strap of her bag like it might float away. The air was warm, and smelled of old books and something herbal—lavender, maybe, or thyme.

Nothing in the room was sharp or formal. No desk. No marble. No pointed questions waiting in ink. Just a thick rug, two chairs angled toward each other, and shelves that gently hummed with protective charmwork.

A woman rose as she entered. Robes charcoal-grey, glasses low on her nose, hair pinned in a soft plait.

"Healer Roen," the woman said with a small smile. "You must be Miss Granger. Thank you for coming."

Hermione nodded, trying not to fidget. "It's all right. Thank you for… well, for agreeing to see us."

"You can call me Alithea, or Healer Roen—whichever you prefer."

"Roen," Hermione said quickly. "That's fine."

"Please, have a seat. Whichever you like."

Hermione chose the one closest to the books.

Roen didn't sit right away. She gave Hermione a few moments, letting the quiet settle like warm water.

"I understand you've had… some unexpected news recently."

Hermione let out a laugh that didn't sound quite right. "That's putting it mildly."

Roen's eyes didn't soften, but they grew more attentive.

"I know this isn't a formal therapy session, but it's still a space where you can speak freely. My role today is to assess whether it's emotionally and magically safe for you to proceed with a genealogical rite. That includes understanding your expectations—your hopes, your fears, and your consent."

Hermione nodded. "I've read about magical lineage rituals before, in theory, but nothing that covered what happens when you're already—" she stopped herself. "When you're adopted."

Roen watched her carefully. "What are you hoping to find?"

Hermione was quiet for a moment. "Answers," she said finally. "Something that makes sense of all the parts of me that have never quite fit. Magic was the first thing that felt like mine. But even that didn't answer everything."

Roen nodded. "And what do you want? If the test reveals a biological family?"

Hermione's fingers curled in her lap. "I… want them to have wanted me. Not just produced me. Wanted me. I want them to be kind. Not perfect, but… not cruel. Not ashamed of me."

"You're looking for belonging."

Hermione blinked once, hard. "Yes."

"And what about your adoptive parents?" Roen asked gently. "Do you want to maintain a relationship with them?"

"Yes," Hermione said immediately, too fast. Then slower, "Yes. Even if they didn't plan for this. Even if I was always… something they didn't fully understand, or chose for the wrong reasons. They loved me, and I love them. That matters."

Roen nodded. "It does."

There was a pause, and then Hermione asked, more hesitantly, "How often does this happen? That someone finds family they didn't expect?"

Roen considered. "Rarely. But not never. Sometimes it's an adoption, like yours. Sometimes it's a child believed to be a squib, placed with Muggles—only to come into magic later. In those cases, there are protocols. Magical guardians. Healers. Inheritance advisors. It doesn't happen often, but it happens enough."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "And what if the family doesn't want them back?"

Roen didn't flinch. "Then we help the child decide what's best for them. Sometimes reconnecting is possible. Sometimes it's not. Some families welcome lost members with open arms. Others… prefer to forget."

"Why?"

Roen was quiet for a beat. "Shame. Politics. Fear. Old wounds. Sometimes the families themselves didn't know. Sometimes they did, and made a choice."

Hermione nodded, slowly. "And sometimes the child doesn't want to know them, either."

"Yes," Roen said softly. "Sometimes the child chooses to walk away. And that choice is respected."

Hermione looked down. "I don't know what I want yet."

"That's allowed," Roen said. "The test gives you truth—but what you do with it is yours."

Hermione hesitated. Then asked, more carefully, "And legally—if I do find my biological family, but my parents are still my guardians… what happens?"

Roen's voice remained calm, but firm. "That depends. If your biological relatives file a claim of kinship, or if the ritual reveals magical responsibilities—like a blood-bound oath or estate tie—it can trigger a review of guardianship. But it does not automatically remove your adopted parents' rights."

Hermione's fingers tightened slightly on her skirt.

"You still have a say," Roen continued. "Magical guardianship must be confirmed by the minor once they reach magical majority—or earlier, if special circumstances apply. You can name someone new. Or keep things as they are. But if your biological family holds magical titles or responsibilities, a guardian may need to be appointed to manage that legacy until you come of age."

Hermione bit her lip. "Would my biological family have any legal rights to me?"

"Not automatically," Roen said. "Blood doesn't grant guardianship on its own—not in the magical world. It may entitle them to property or title claims, and it could give them the right to *petition* for magical authority—but that authority must be confirmed by you, or through magical arbitration. You cannot be taken or claimed without consent."

Hermione relaxed just slightly. "That's… good to know."

Roen gave a faint smile. "Magical law protects the child first. Always."

"That makes more sense than anything else has lately."

There was another pause.

"I'm afraid of what it might change," Hermione said. "In my friendships. My place at school. Who I am, and how people see me. What if… what if Harry looks at me differently? What if I find out I'm someone he can't trust?"

"You think the truth could cost you your friends."

"I think it already might," she said. "Even if they won't say it."

Roen leaned forward slightly. "What would you say to him, if it does?"

Hermione's eyes stung. "That I didn't choose this. That I'm still me. That I'm trying to be honest because it's the only way forward."

"Would you want him to stand by you?"

"Yes," she said without hesitation.

"Then allow him the same choice."

Hermione looked up. That caught her off guard.

"Let him process it. Let him decide who you are to him—after he sees all of you. Because true friendship isn't based on staying the same."

Hermione nodded, slowly.

"And if it hurts?" she asked.

Roen's voice was quiet. "Then you'll hurt. And heal. And grow. That's what truth does."

There was a pause.

"Are you ready for the test?"

"I think so."

"Then I'll make my recommendation to proceed."

Hermione exhaled slowly. "Thank you."

Roen smiled. "You've done well, Miss Granger. Most adults wouldn't face this with half your clarity."

"I'm just trying to make sense of it all."

"That," Roen said, "is the start of wisdom."