Keogh

~***~

Mr. Ollivander had learned how to make wands at his father’s knee. Like most artisans who had gone on, the elder Mr. Ollivander had continued to do what he loved most in life. When Kathryn had helped Hermione to find him, the old wizard had been intrigued by her inquiries.

“I don’t think it’s ever been done before, but I don’t see why it would not work. The cores would have to be near opposites, of course, and the wood would need to be fairly rigid in order for them to work with the types of hand movements you are intending.”

He had welcomed the chance to take on the project, filling her mind with measurements and schematics. She knew that he’d found it odd to be in the body of a young girl as he used her hands to sketch the designs onto a generously sized roll of parchment, though he adapted quickly. Once his idea was completed in charcoal, Hermione carried the roll of parchment with her to the wand maker in Diagon Alley. The currently living Mr. Ollivander had been surprised and intrigued by her request, all but salivating over the sketches and schematics, and hinting that perhaps Hermione should consider an apprenticeship in wand making when she left school.

The late Mr. Ollivander also gave her another name; Gustav Ramonoff. He had been quite possibly the world’s finest duelist in his lifetime. From what she could surmise the wizard was buried in his wife’s family plot near the eastern border of Poland. This time Kathy had made her track him down on her own so she could learn to draw up the equations to access the Continuum and become familiar with searching amongst the many minds of the Great Majority in order to find a specific individual. She found Poland to be delightfully dry compared to England and had spent several hours sitting in on the hard ground next to Gustav’s worn headstone as she spoke to him about her needs.

“It has been done before, but rarely and only out of great need. Of course, it has been done with two ordinary wands rather than what you are suggesting. You are young yet, and will need training, but I can help you there. We can start immediately.”

“I’m underage, though. I can’t use magic outside of school.”

“We will not use real wands. We can carve practice wands from the same type of wood to be used in the dueling wands so that you can become used to the heft and feel of them as well as master the rhythm of the spells. We have the entire summer to practice. We’ll add actual spell work once you are back in school and Ollivander has fulfilled your request.”

That was how Hermione had found herself practicing spells without actually practicing spells. According to Gustav she would need to master silent spells in order to become a skilled duelist. “You can think with more speed than you can speak, My Lady. The victorious duelist is the one who can cast the spell with the mere inkling of the spell in his mind rather than calling forth the entire spell.”

“But what of the wand movements? I don’t see how I’m supposed to manage them properly at the speeds we’re considering.”

“Wand movements help lesser wizards get the spell out properly. Hone your mind to razor sharpness and you won’t have to waste time with twirling and swishing.”

With the dummy wands carved, they first worked on getting down the way to use just one of them. The wands in question were double ended. The finished products would be about twelve to thirteen inches long, two and a half inches of the length taken up by the center piece which would take the place of the handle end of a normal wand. Two wand ends, shorter than the average wand, would come out from the center on either end. She would have to learn to keep a grip on the wand without making it too tight so that she could still twirl and flip it as needed.

The schematics she had sent Mr. Ollivander called for the wands to be made with a separate core for each end. One side of each wand would have dragon heartstring, the other side would have unicorn hair. One wand would be made of walnut, the other made of oak. Both Gustav and the late Mr. Ollivander were in agreement that, eventually, she should be able to use all four wand tips with great fluidity, casting her spells in succession with such efficiency that it might appear that she was casting two or three spells at once.

They were quite excited by the prospect. More than she was, if the truth were to be told.

As the weeks passed she did her best to squeeze in as much time as she could with her parents, work on her physical and wand training and keep up her correspondence. Harry had sent out a plea for help after learning that he was to follow the same diet as his gigantic cousin to which she responded with a box loaded with sugar-free treats. Kathy had suggested she just go get him and bring him home, certain that her old friends (Hermione’s parents) would take one look at the scrawny boy (Kathy’s words, not hers) and do their best to bring him up to fighting weight. Hermione had pointed out that Mrs. Weasley was the default surrogate mother and she suspected that Harry would end up at The Burrow eventually.

And she kept in touch with Severus. His letters were back to being stiffly formal and cold after the incident at the Shrieking Shack, and she got the impression he suspected her as having had something to do with Black’s escape. That being said, she had been surprised to receive his invitation to accompany him to see the Quidditch World Cup. Apparently Lucius Malfoy had been invited to watch the match from the Minister of Magic’s box and had secured two extra tickets so that they could come along as well. He would, of course, accompany her to Diagon Alley upon their return from the cup to assist her with securing her school supplies and she was invited to stay with him at his residence at Spinners End for the rest of the summer.

She had thought to stay with Harry and Ron at The Burrow, but she knew that she shouldn’t reject the olive branch if he was willing to extend it. After checking with her parents, she sent him a reply accepting his invitation. Two days later came the invite from Molly Weasley, also to attend the World Cup and to spend the rest of the summer with them. With heavy regrets, she sent a polite apology explaining that she had already agreed to attend the match with Professor Snape.

Knowing that her time with her parents was short, Hermione slacked off in her practice for the final few days. Also wanting to squeeze out the last ounce of togetherness that they could, they moved their appointments at the clinic and dedicated all their time to her. They visited a museum and splurged on dinner at a fancy restaurant one night where they all dressed to the nines. She and her mother spent one of the days being pampered at a quaint spa where she was given a pedicure and manicure, her nails painted a light, shell pink that seemed far more innocent than she felt any longer.

Kathryn was uncharacteristically absent during this final week home. Hermione couldn’t detect even the slightest chill inside her mind to indicate that her other mother might be present but keeping to herself.

They were on their final day together, the day they were due to travel to Spinners End, when someone rang the bell. The three of them were playing a game of Scrabble in which her father was winning as he usually did. Hermione wasn’t allowed to use words that were from the magical world since it might give her an unfair advantage. She always tried to argue to get that particular rule chucked out on the grounds that her father was a walking dictionary, but so far had been unsuccessful.

Hermione scrambled up from her seat on the floor and made her way to the door. She peered through the peep hole to see a man she did not recognize. Instinct made her reach for her wand tucked into her back pocket, though the man’s clothing as a bit too muggle for most wizards. Palming her wand in one hand, she opened the door, keeping half of her body hidden behind it. “May I help you?”

The man blinked, looking at her in surprise. He looked to be in his mid-forties, perhaps a bit older, with salt-and-pepper hair and blue eyes. He cleared his throat before speaking. “Hello, I’m Michael Turner. I was looking for some old acquaintances of mine; Jacob and Hannah Granger.”

Hermione gave a nod, hiding her confusion. “If you’d wait here, please.” He nodded and remained on the front step as she went back into the living room where her father was adding a word she could have kicked herself for not thinking of first. “There’s a man calling himself Michael Turner at the door. He says that he knows you.”

Hannah frowned, thinking hard before looking to Jacob. “It sounds familiar. Where have we heard that name before?”

Jacob rose from his chair. “Michael and Turner are both relatively common, but I believe Kathy had a friend by that name. He was the one who brought Hermione to us in Spain.”

Hannah blinked. “That’s right.” She watched as her husband moved through the living room towards the hall to get the door. “What on Earth would he be doing here now?” She looked to Hermione who shook her head in matched confusion. Hannah’s eyes then fell to the wand still held in her daughter’s hand. Hermione blushed and tucked it back into her back pocket.

A moment later Jacob was leading Michael into the living room. The man still seemed a bit uncertain. “I didn’t mean to interrupt family time.”

“It’s quite all right. We’re just surprised to see you, is all. We haven’t seen you since you brought Hermione to us. Please have a seat. Can I offer you a drink?”

Turner cast a glance towards Hermione as he sat down. “No, thank you. I won’t keep you long.” He looked around the living room with its many pictures of the family and of Hermione on her own in celebration of various academic achievements. “How… how have you been?”

Hannah gave him a curious look. “We’re fine. Are you here about Kathy?”

Turner gave a glance towards Hermione before looking back to Hannah. “You told her about the adoption?”

Jacob cleared his throat. “After a fashion. Kathryn apparently made arrangements to disclose everything to Hermione in case she died. Her barrister contacted us last year.” Michael’s face registered disbelief. “I’m sorry… I assumed you knew since you… well…”

Hermione watched the man carefully. Was he an old flame of Kathy’s? He seemed shaken by the news. “Mr. Turner, did you know my birth mother very well?”

He offered her a somewhat weak smile. “Probably better than most. We were employed by the same people.”

“Oh, so you’re in law enforcement as well?” Hermione ‘reached’ out with her mind, trying to find the cold strand that was her mother. Something told her that Kathryn should be in on this. She came across Gustav, who had been hovering relatively closely, patiently waiting for her to resume her practices. A silent request sent the dead wizard’s mind off to look for the other necroscope.

Michael tilted his head politely. “After a fashion, I suppose.” He looked a bit off balance. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have intruded…” He made to get up, but Hannah stopped him with a soft request.

“No need to rush off, Michael. Actually, Hermione might enjoy being able to talk to someone who knew Kathryn after college. She can talk to Mr. Snape directly, but she doesn’t have that chance with Kathy.”

Turner blanched. “She… she knows about him as well?” He looked shocked by this.

Jacob frowned. “It was Kathy’s idea. She wanted full disclosure.”

“Full disclosure.” Turner frowned now, casting Hermione a curious look. “I… see….”

Hermione was about to ask something when a familiar chill settled into her skull. “Michael? Shit-Fire-Mothe…. This can’t be good.”

“I can’t really stay. Not today. I have to head back to the office.” He got to his feet. “Perhaps in a few days?”

“Hermione is going to be spending the rest of her summer with her birth father. She leaves tomorrow. But perhaps the two of you could correspond once she returns to school. We can forward your letters to her in our care packages if you like.” This from her mother who was ever mindful that the address for Hogwarts might be a bit odd to most people. They sent their care packages through the Department for Wizarding Families, which had several witches and wizards dedicated to helping muggle parents adapt to having magical children.

“Move over, Hermione. Let me drive.” She did as she was told and found herself looking through her eyes but not in control of her body. Michael said that he would be in touch and she heard herself offer to show him to the door. Instead of stopping there and letting him cross over the threshold alone, however, she stepped out with him and shut the door behind her. “All right, Mikey, what gives?”

Mr. Turner stopped and looked at her in mild discomfort. “Miss Granger?”

Hermione felt her lips turn up into a smirk. “Guess again, Turner.”

His expression became one of understanding and she watched as he gave a hard swallow. “You reversed it.”

“Had to. Never got around to giving her that baby brother or sister I was planning on.” Hermione/Kathryn looked casually about the street, eyes taking in every detail. “Why are you here? Why hunt them down after all this time? I know Trout’s not in charge any longer.”

“How do you know that?”

“I have my sources.” She looked back at him. “I always have my sources. So what’s rattled the cage?”

Michael looked around this time, just as carefully and as casually as she had. “Dreams. Nothing I’ve reported or plan to report, but they got me worried. I dreamt about the night she was born. It was like I was back there. All the fear at being found out.”

“Found out? What’s he talking about?”

“Nothing you should be concerned with.” “Do they know about her?”

Turner shook his head. “No, they don’t. The newbies don’t even believe in you. Not really. They think you’re the boogey man we concocted to keep them in line.” He offered a slight smile. “Of course, we’ve got a couple of really good recruiters. They don’t know what to look for, but if Hermione’s come into her own it’s only a matter of time before they pick up on something.”

Hermione felt Kathryn flinch a bit. “I was afraid of that. Do what you can to keep them off her case? She’s got enough on her plate as it is without having to deal with all that crap.”

“Like what?”

Hermione/Kathryn frowned. “Things look like they may be heating up on the other side of things again.”

A dark look entered Michael’s eyes. “Heating up? Then is it wise to let her get close to him? You always said that you didn’t fully trust the lot he ran with.”

“And I still don’t, but there are other issues at stake. I didn’t realize before just how serious some of them took things like birth and station. Acknowledging him might give her some added protection. Besides, I couldn’t very well hide it once we let her know who I was. He teaches at her school.”

"Really? From what you told me about him I wouldn’t have pegged him as the teacher type.”

“He’s not. I certainly wouldn’t put him in charge of impressionable young minds. He’s a bigger bastard than Geoffrey.”

“That’s bad.” They shared a laugh over a joke that Hermione didn’t understand. Michael gave a final chuff before taking a breath. “How did it happen, Kathy?”

Hermione felt her gaze go cold. It struck her that she didn’t know the answer that herself. How did her mother die? Before she could ask, however, she heard her voice respond in an answer that was clearly meant for all parties involved. “That topic is not up for discussion.”

Well, that was that, then. For now.

~***~

He was disgusted with himself. Narcissa Malfoy was amused.

Over the past week the house at Spinners End had been aired out, scrubbed out and repairs made. The most noticeable change had been the second largest bedroom which had been freshly painted in colors that were unbefitting the man who was head of Slytherin House; soft cream with subtle highlights of soft pink.

“She doesn’t strike me as a ‘pink’ person.”

“That’s why there’s very little of it. Oh, do stop scowling, Severus. She’s a Gryffindor. I doubt seriously she’s going to appreciate having it done up in skulls and snakes.” Narcissa was looking very pleased with herself as she watched a house elf move a new book case into place.

Severus was disgusted with himself because it had been his idea. At first, anyway. He’d not cared to do anything with the house since he’d inherited from his parents, and had never had to share the space with anyone before. Now however, he was going to have Hermione here for nearly a month as she waited for the start of term and had thought it might be nice to have it seem a bit more welcoming. As much as he could manage, at any rate. Unsure of how to go about it, or even how to prepare for an adolescent girl, he’d asked Narcissa for advice. Her response had been to take over.

At least the witch had enough sense to listen to him when he told her that Hermione would not be interested in dolls or posters of whatever stud wizard was in vogue. Instead the walls were decorated with prints of maps and rune charts. Things that a clever girl such as his daughter would find intellectually stimulating.

Thankfully Mrs. Malfoy was satisfied with her work before the day the Grangers were due to drop Hermione off. Almost. He’d drawn the line at her attempt to get him spruced up. The girl already knew what he looked like; there was no sense in trying to be someone different now. Thus he was still the same Severus Snape he always was when Hermione and her legal parents arrived at his doorstep. The adults were politely formal in what could not help but be an awkward situation for all parties involved and the Grangers took their leave after sharing a quiet tea. Once alone, Severus showed Hermione to her bedroom and hovered at the door while she examined it.

It was quite different from the rest of the house. Not as dark or as oppressive. Narcissa had done wonders in making it feel better suited to such a young girl. He watched as she turned about in place, taking in the bed with its bright quilts and mountain range of pillows, the framed maps and charts and the windows with sheers to allow in copious amounts of sunlight. To his relief, she smiled and threw herself onto the feminine love seat that made up part of a small sitting area set aside more for style than for actual function.

“I take it that you are pleased with the room, then?”

“It’s gorgeous!” Her monstrous cat seemed to agree. The orange pouf leapt up onto the bed and quickly made himself at home in a patch of sunlight. “Thank you.”

“Yes, well,” he flexed his shoulders slightly, “make yourself at home. I’ll leave you to settle in. We should retire early tonight. We’ll have to meet Lucius and Draco about dawn. You’ll need your rest.”

She nodded her understanding and gave him a tentative smile. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

~***~

“Ugh!”

“I like it.”

“It’s so… girly!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a girl.”

“Yeah, but not this much of one! I swear there wasn’t anything like this in this house when I was sleeping here. You were lucky if he bothered to beat out the rugs, let alone clean or paint. What have you done to him?”

Hermione gave a snort and moved from the love seat to the bed, stretching out next to Crookshanks who purred and shifted so he was snuggled up to her side. “He’s just trying to get better acquainted, is all. At least he didn’t do it all up in teddy bears and dolls.”

“Even he has better taste than that. This isn’t right. Some woman did all this. Who’s he shagging?”

“You sound jealous.”

“I do not!”

She buried her face in the comforter to smother her giggles. Kathryn sounded so offended at the suggestion. “I don’t know much about his personal life. If I were to hazard a guess, barring any female relatives I’ve yet to meet, he would have either asked Professor McGonagall or Mrs. Malfoy for help. Although my money would be on Mrs. Malfoy. No red and no lions.”

“And no hot boys in kilts.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “What? I don’t buy that prim and proper show she puts on. I’d bet she sneaks off to the highland games to drool over the men.”

The thought of Minerva McGonagall drooling over anyone made Hermione a bit queasy. “Just because you’re a total perv doesn’t mean everyone else is.”

“I still think you should have planted one on that Quidditch captain of yours when you had the chance. Oh, well, there’s still that Cutie from Puffy.”

“The who from what?”

“That Diggory kid. Now there’s a boy who’s destined to grow into a damn fine piece of manhood. Might be a bit too smart, though. You have to watch the smart ones. They don’t let you get away with nearly as much.”

She sighed, not bothering to correct Kathryn on the name of Diggory’s house. “You were with Severus, and he’s right clever.”

“Yeah, but I was the rebound chick. He was head over heels for someone else. I was just a convenient shag for him. Made him far easier to get along with.”

Hermione frowned. This was new. “He was on the rebound? Who from?”

“Not sure. But he called me by her name once when he came. Some flower name. Lily, I believe.” Hermione choked. “Oh give over! The whole point of having sex is the big finish. Sticking your head in the sand won’t make it all go away. You had to come from somewhere.”

She didn’t bother to correct Kathryn’s assumption.

~***~