Daughter of Leda

By morning, Hermione wanted badly to write, or better yet, to visit, Lucius and ask him what exactly he knew of Leda’s - and therefore her - connection to Voldemort. That is what Hermione the Gryffindor would have done just months, if not weeks, previously. This new Hermione, however, the young woman with traits from all houses - Gryffindor and Slytherin in particular - knew better.

First of all, she had already asked Lucius what he knew of Leda, and never had he mentioned any connection to Voldemort. If he didn’t know, then perhaps this wasn’t the time to suggest it to him, and if he did, then obviously he had decided not to inform her of it. The fact that she did to an extent trust Lucius didn’t mean she was oblivious to his devious qualities, and neither did she believe herself to be an exception to them. The matter of his Vow was something to consider, but Hermione had a feeling that when asked for information he would still find a way to lie by omission or some such tactic. She was getting better with subtlety and cunning, but didn’t feel herself quite at the level to counter him.

Surely, though, being related to Voldemort had to present some sort of benefit. Didn’t it? She didn’t for one second believe it would keep him from killing her or ordering one of his minions to do so, but thought that there had to be at least some form of a benefit to her.

With these thoughts in mind, Hermione continued to devour what texts she’d received from Leda and made several trips to Flourish & Blotts for additional reference material. What she really wanted was to check the bookstores in Knockturn Alley, but didn’t feel up to going on her own and neither did she know who she could ask for such a favor without surrendering what little advantage she had. What she did do, so far as she was able without someone to help her, was increase her knowledge and skill of Occlumency. To think that her secrets could be so easily betrayed by someone just looking her in the eyes scared her, and Hermione began to wish that Professor Snape had given her, not Harry, those lessons in it.

Eventually, however, it was time to say goodbye to her family and prepare to fully enter the wizarding world once more. She waited until the last possible day to alter her parent’s memories, sending them to live in Australia for a time. She hated to do it, but hated more to think that they would become a target because they were her parents. Her last night at home was spent all alone, and her last morning in creating wards to protect it while she and her parents were away.

She met the Weasley’s at the Leaky Cauldron at ten in the morning, all her necessary belongings in a bag she had charmed to hold almost anything. That is to say, she was there at ten in the morning. The Weasley’s arrived at ten twenty-seven, with Mrs. Weasley still lecturing Fred regarding one of his and George’s latest pranks.

They all exchanged quick hugs, with Ron going red in the face after his and muttering something about her looking “right pretty, for ‘Mione.” She wondered if that was supposed to be a compliment, but left it alone.

Everyone spent the day in Diagon Alley doing their shopping for the upcoming school year of Ginny, Ron, and Hermione’s. Neither Ron nor Hermione had the heart to break it to Molly that they wouldn’t be going, and they knew full well that mentioning it would result in their plans being ruined. For all that Harry was The Boy Who Lived, chosen to defeat Voldemort, and Ron and Hermione were his friends who followed him everywhere – somehow the Order still expected the Golden Trio to leave matters to the adults and only emerge from underneath their rocks for the final battle. Like hell they would.

She did make use of her shopping day to some degree, though, and by the time they had returned to the Burrow and Hermione had been sent on to 12 Grimmauld Place she had a plan fully formed.

It didn’t take long to find her old Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher among the many members of the Order currently staying in the Black’s ancestral home. Remus Lupin had come out of his shell for some, especially Tonks, but remained quiet and reserved in most cases. Of all those “adults” in the order, it seemed to Hermione that he would be the one to sympathize with her. Her plan would succeed or fail based on how she approached him with it.

“Professor Lupin?” she said softly when she found him curled up in the library with a book.

He looked up and smiled slightly. “Just Remus, Miss Granger. I’m not your professor anymore.”

“Remus, then,” she continued, “and you should call me Hermione. I was hoping you could help me with something.”

Remus closed his book and set it on a nearby table. “Of course, Hermione. What seems to be the problem?”

Looking around, Hermione cast a quick silencing spell and another to alert her if anyone approached the room. “I learned something about myself and my family over break, and I’m not entirely sure how to handle it. I’m not exactly comfortable talking about it, because I don’t want it to get out, but felt like I needed to regardless.”
Remus nodded, waiting for her to continue.

“You see,” Hermione said carefully, “I do feel like I could trust you above others. Even so, though, I was wondering if you might be willing to make an oath not to reveal what I told you. I know several spells to do it that don’t require a third person as the Unbreakable Vow does.”

He was quiet for a few minutes, but finally spoke. “As a general rule, I refrain from taking vows that are bound by magic. When I do, I refrain from doing so without full knowledge of what exactly I am vowing to do. You are asking me to do exactly that.”

That wasn’t exactly the response she had hoped for, but neither was it unexpected. He just needed a little convincing. “It’s nothing bad though, and this would make me more comfortable.”

“Then it must be on my terms,” said Remus. “I will vow to keep your secrets so long as they pose no harm to Harry or the Order.”

“As far as I am aware,” she told him, “they aren’t connected to either, and certainly would do them more good than anything.”

Remus agreed, and it didn’t take long for the appropriate spell to be done and the silencing spells to be checked. She then proceeded to tell him the whole story. Or at least most of it. Most of the details she thought he needed to know, that is.

“My mother gave me a letter written by my great-great-grandmother, Leda,” Hermione explained. “It would seem that, though I still consider myself Muggleborn in most respects, if you go back to Leda you find that she was a Pureblood Witch.”

He nodded patiently, though she thought she saw something akin to recognition enter his eyes. “Leda is not a common name,” he said. “Do you know her surname?”

Hermione was quiet for a moment. “Atreus.”

Oh yes, it was definitely recognition. “That would explain a lot about you, then,” said Remus eventually. “I don’t believe that Purebloods are superior, Hermione, but it has always been surprising to most just how competent a Witch you are for a Muggleborn. The name of Leda Atreus is known to me, and I would fully expect any descendant of hers to be powerful. The most shocking part is that, from how you explained things, it would seem her child was a squib. She was not known to have any children at all, though I suppose to Purebloods that can equate to the same thing.”

“You’ve heard of her?” asked Hermione, surprised. “I haven’t found her name in any of my books.”

“You would be hard pressed to find it in anything Flourish & Blotts might have,” he said, wincing at the words.

“While she was highly respected by many, there are few that would openly discuss her.”

Hermione had known Leda to be a Slytherin, but she could think of no reason Leda’s name would be so taboo. “Why is that?”

“The majority of Leda’s powers were in the realm of divination,” Remus explained. “But the commonly accepted restrictions to that art didn’t seem to apply to her. She did things, knew things, which should have been impossible. It frightened people, and after Voldemort’s first rise and people became even more suspicious, it was believed her ability must have resulted from Dark Arts.”

“So to read of her I would have to go somewhere that had books on the dark arts and other, less acceptable, topics?” asked Hermione carefully. The conversation was quickly leading to where she had hoped, but she still needed Remus to agree.

“In theory,” he said simply.

“So a careful trip to a bookstore in Knockturn Alley might be a good place to start?” she asked hopefully.

Remus was silent for a minute. Very silent. “You are of age, Hermione, or I wouldn’t even consider it. As it is I can understand your curiosity, and your desire for answers. I will agree so long as you wear a glamour, dress carefully to blend in, and obey every order I give you while we are there. If I say a place is too dangerous we will leave immediately.”

Hermione grinned and threw her arms around him. “Thank you so much, Remus. I’m so excited I can hardly think! It’s even better than the Restricted Section at Hogwarts!”

“We will go first thing in the morning,” he said when he’d finally managed to peel her arms off his neck. “For now, get some sleep.”

Walking towards the door, Hermione began to feel a bit guilty. Oh, she was becoming more Slytherin every day, but she still had a conscience. It bothered her that she was asking so much of him, but telling him so little of the truth.

Turning around to face him, she decided that even though she wasn’t prepared to discuss the topic of Lucius Malfoy, she could still tell Remus the other part that bothered her. “Did you know Leda had a sister?”

Remus had just picked his book back up, and didn’t seem to think much of the question. “I never heard of her, though it’s not surprising to me.”

“Yes, well, her name was Althaea and she married Marvolo Gaunt,” said Hermione. “Althaea was Voldemort’s grandmother.”

That got his attention. His eyes shot up from the book and straight to Hermione. “So you, however distantly, share the same blood as Tom Riddle?”

“Something like that,” said Hermione, trying to smile about it. “Well, goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.”