The corridor was quiet, save for the soft echo of their footsteps. Clarisse Marchand led Hermione to a smaller, more intimate room tucked behind the formal meeting chamber. The walls were lined with books in half a dozen languages, their leather spines worn and familiar. A fire crackled in the hearth, and two high-backed chairs sat angled toward it.

Clarisse gestured for her to sit. "Let's begin with what matters most: you."

Hermione nodded, tucking herself primly into the chair. "All right."

"I've reviewed your file, but files don't tell you who someone is," Clarisse said, settling across from her. "Tell me, in your words—what was your childhood like?"

Hermione folded her hands in her lap. "I was adopted as an infant by Dan and Emma Granger. They're dentists—very practical people. Structured. But thoughtful. Our home was full of books and conversation. They encouraged my curiosity, even if it was… relentless."

A faint smile tugged at Clarisse's lips. "And has it always been?"

"Yes," Hermione said, a little wryly. "I've always wanted to understand things. All of them."

Clarisse inclined her head. "How would you describe your relationship with them now?"

Hermione hesitated, just briefly.

"It changed after I got my Hogwarts letter," she said quietly. "They were proud. Supportive, even. But I think... it shifted something. Suddenly, I had this other world. One they couldn't be part of. And with me away for most of the year, they started thinking about what they wanted next."

"You mean professionally?"

"And personally," Hermione said. "They've been talking about joining Doctors Without Borders. Travelling. Going places they never did when they were younger. They've always been responsible, but... I think me going to Hogwarts freed them from being parents in a certain way."

Clarisse didn't interrupt.

"I know they love me," Hermione said firmly. "I don't doubt that. But it's not the same as it was. It's like they were holding their breath for years and suddenly realised they could exhale. They're planning to leave in September."

Clarisse nodded once. "And how does that make you feel?"

Hermione took a moment. "A bit... abandoned. Though I know they wouldn't see it that way."

"That sounds like a very honest answer."

Hermione glanced at her lap. "I'm trying."

"What do you want now?" Clarisse asked gently. "From this search, from a magical guardian, from whatever comes next?"

Hermione's eyes lifted. "I want the truth. If I have a magical family, I want to know who they are. But more than that... I want to understand what I wasn't taught."

Clarisse tilted her head. "Go on."

"There are things at Hogwarts that are never explained. Rituals. Family customs. Inherited magic. Everyone else just seems to know things I've never heard of. It's not in the textbooks. It's in the culture. In their upbringing."

"And that's what you're missing."

Hermione nodded. "Yes. It's not just the spells—it's how the world works. I don't want to be caught off guard again."

Clarisse leaned back slightly. "You're not alone in that. Most Muggle-borns experience the same gaps. But you're rare in knowing to ask the questions."

"I suppose I always have."

"That's a strength," Clarisse said. "But it's also why you need a guardian who can help you find answers safely. Someone to teach you where knowledge meets power."

Hermione blinked, then said softly, "In the Muggle world, I think I'd qualify for emancipation—if I had to. Financially, I'm independent. I have my trusts and academic awards. I know how to manage things."

Clarisse nodded. "You're right. In magical terms, a guardian is less about control and more about representation. You don't need supervision. You need someone who can stand for you—legally, magically, politically—when the rules stop making sense."

Hermione let out a slow breath. "That's what it feels like most days. Like the rules were made for someone else."

Clarisse smiled faintly. "Then let's make a few of our own."

She turned a page in her notes. "You've got multiple scholarship funds from non-magical institutions, plus two modest inheritance trusts from your adoptive grandparents. Those can be transferred to Gringotts. Tharkun can help you grow those accounts with goblin-certified investments. That kind of autonomy is rare, and very much to your advantage."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Is it unusual to be... financially independent this early?"

"Unusual, yes," Clarisse said. "But not unheard of. It means your choices are less vulnerable to pressure. It also means you have the resources to pursue truth without permission."

Hermione exhaled. "Good."

There was a pause. Then Clarisse leaned forward.

"One thing I'd like to recommend early: we arrange a meeting with your adoptive parents. Not to challenge them—but to request memories. Unedited, pensieve-stored memories of your adoption, any correspondence or instructions from magical parties, and any indication of what they were told at the time."

Hermione looked thoughtful. "That could be painful for them."

"It might be," Clarisse said gently. "But it may also be necessary. If someone tampered with your placement, we'll need evidence to begin legal proceedings. The goblins will be able to analyse the memories for magical interference. Forensics, in magical terms."

Hermione nodded. "All right. I'll write to them."

"And we'll schedule the meeting before you return to school," Clarisse said. "That gives us two and a half weeks."

Hermione blinked. "Is that enough?"

"It's enough to begin," Clarisse said. "We'll review memories, complete your genealogical rites, and establish your guardianship. Once term begins, I'll remain your legal proxy and continue the investigation. You'll be updated regularly, and if something serious is uncovered, I'll liaise with Hogwarts directly."

"Do you think... my biological family might not want to know me?" Hermione asked, very quietly.

"I've seen that happen," Clarisse said, honest but not unkind. "Not often. But sometimes. They might not know you're alive. They might be afraid. They might be angry."

Hermione nodded once. "I think I can handle that. But it would help to be prepared."

"And if they do want to know you?"

Hermione paused, then said, "I think I'd like to meet them. But on my terms."

Clarisse closed her notebook. "That's exactly what a guardian helps with."

They sat for a long moment, the fire crackling quietly between them.

"You're not what I expected," Hermione said.

Clarisse raised a brow. "Oh?"

"I thought you'd be... distant. More formal. I wasn't expecting someone to care."

Clarisse gave a rare smile—dry but sincere. "I don't do this work because it's easy. I do it because I've seen what happens when no one steps in."

Hermione looked down at her hands, then up again. "Thank you. For stepping in."

"You've done the hard part already," Clarisse said. "You kept asking why."