Keogh

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Twirl. Spin. Punch. Punch. Flip. Kick. Twirl. Throw.



The sai sang through the air and embedded themselves into the walls of garage, one on each side of the glass jar. The beetle inside buzzed its wings nervously in response. Certain she had made her point, Hermione walked over and unscrewed the lid of the jar. “Let’s talk.”



The insect flew up out of the jar and materialized as a tall, blond witch in acid green robes a few feet from her. Rita eyed her nervously as Hermione watched her with a dispassionate gaze, hands on her hips. “N… now Miss Granger, let’s not do anything rash.”



“Here are the rules, Skeeter.” Hermione reached out nonchalantly and plucked one of the said from the wall. She held it with deceptive calmness as she stepped towards Rita. The witch matched each step forward with one of her own back. “You are going to reign in that poison quill of yours. If I read one word attributed to you that is disparaging against Harry, Professor Dumbledore, myself or anyone I happen to respect and hold dear that is not one hundred percent true then the Ministry is going to find out about your little secret. No more lies. No more casting a negative light on half-truths and twisting them about in a way that suits your purpose. In fact, it might be best that you have me edit your stories if you are uncertain if what you write is going to piss me off or not.”



Rita’s eyes flew wide. “But… that’s how I live! It’s my livelihood!”



“And you can still write. I just don’t wish to see that claptrap you’ve been passing off as news any longer.” Hermione paused, her head cocked to one side as she watched the witch. “Now don’t get me wrong, Rita, I don’t hold it against you that you’re an unregistered animagus. Quite the contrary, actually. I admire the amount of cleverness it takes to pull such a transformation off, and I know of other unregistered animagi. The difference is that they did what they did for the good of someone else, not to go running about spying people and doing their best to injure. I can fully understand the need to keep such a secret from the authorities because there are valid reasons to do so, but you have abused it.”



Skeeter was watching her closely. The witch clearly did not know if it would be safe to try and make a run for it. Hermione imagined that she came across as a bit unstable at the moment. At least in the eyes of the witch. “Now, do we have an understanding?” Rita nodded. “Good. And before you start getting any ideas and think you can get out of this by simply running to the Ministry and paying whatever fine they levy against you by registering, let me give you something else to consider. If you think I’m good with these,” she gave the sai in her hand a few easy twirls that would look impressive to the untrained eye, “you should see what I can do with a wand.”



Rita paled behind her slanted glasses. She swallowed, her ruby nails reaching up to rest against her throat. Hermione could see the fear there and fought down the thrill of triumph that threatened to bubble up from her chest. “Get out.”



Skeeter did not have to be told twice. The witch left with a hurried pop as Hermione turned from her and went to collect the other sai. She heard what sounded like applause inside her mind. “Beautifully done! I especially liked the part at the end.”



“I didn’t, but it was needed. If she’s clever enough to figure out how to become an animagus, then she’s clever enough to figure out she can petition to be added to the registry late.”



“There is nothing wrong with having a little streak of ruthlessness inside you, Hermione. Intimidation can be more useful than physical violence, though that has much to recommend it as well.”



She secured the sai and ran a hand over her face. It was hot inside the garage where she practiced while at home, and sweat dampened her workout gear. Her father kept a small fridge in here for cold drinks and overflow from the main house during large family gatherings, and she used it to keep bottles of water on hand. Taking one now she leaned against the cold metal of the door as she drank.



“Have you figured out, yet, what you did wrong at the graveyard.”



She swallowed a drink of water and gave a nod. “I was too nice. I didn’t aim to kill.”



“Correct. They would not have hesitated to kill you, so you have to be willing to do the same. There is no shame in your actions, Hermione. It is the mark of a good person that you find killing distasteful. However, even good people have to sacrifice their morals somewhat in war. It was very clever of you, though, to keep to the outside of the gathering as you did. They were not able to see your face and they did not see how you got around so quickly. You will have unhinged them, somewhat.”



Salazar was like this. He was a better teacher than Kathryn, likely because he had been a teacher during his lifetime. He asked her to examine her own answers and actions to learn from her own mistakes rather than yell at her and tell her what an idiot she was. His method of teaching was more like Professor McGonagall whereas Kathryn had been more like… well… Severus.



“I don’t know if I have it in me to kill, Sir.”



“Sadly, everyone has it in them to kill another living person, Hermione. Fortunately, most never have to. I fear that it is your fate to shed blood, and more than once. With the coming darkness there will be little choice in the matter.”



She drew in a breath and let her head fall back against the fridge. “Everything’s changing. Everything is changing and we’re still just children.”



“True, and it is not fair that you are being forced to grow up so quickly. Then again, it is not fair for that demented descendant of mine to raise his hand against an infant or slaughter an innocent family or to dare to think that he has the right to control the magical community. In his madness he is becoming no better than the people I argued to defend the school against.”



She frowned. “I thought you wanted to keep muggleborns out because they were ‘unworthy’. That’s what everyone believes.”



Salazar gave a snort inside her mind. “I told you that my reputation had been maligned. My intentions have been warped and the real meaning behind them lost over the centuries. I never felt that magical children born to muggles were unworthy to learn magic. I believed them to be untrustworthy, though to be fair it was no fault of their own. It was how they had been raised.”



Hermione puzzled over this. What had been the political landscape when the school was new? She summoned up all she knew of history in the British Isles and came upon a possible answer. “The Church.”



“Exactly! The general populace, the muggle one at any rate, was illiterate and superstitious. Now, I do believe that most of the clergy were there for the right reason and truly believed the teachings of their faith, but it only takes a few hungry for power and wealth to twist a good message. And an illiterate populace is an ignorant and easily controlled populace. Children were murdered by their parents when their letters inviting them to the school arrived, if they had lived that long. Many were killed when they started showing their first signs of magic.”



“That’s horrible!”



“That was the way of the age. My concern was about the muggleborn who could not cope with being a witch or wizard and sought to gain salvation for his or her perceived ‘sins’ by coming to the school and then leading the bishops and soldiers there. That was why I was against bringing the muggleborns into the school, but the others disagreed with me.”



“So you left.”



“Yes, but I did not stop supporting the school. I merely took a different tactic.”



She finished the first bottle of water and reached in for another. “What did you do?”



“I started looking for muggle children exhibiting signs of magic. And when I found them, I moved them.”



“Moved them?”



He chuckled. “Yes, I moved them. I tried to find them when they were very young, preferably between four and six years, though there were a few who were seven. Young enough to adapt and still not yet so blatant in their magic that their parents or their villages were fully aware. A few memory charms here and there and the family either completely forgot there had been a child or it was believed they had drowned or gone missing in a forest.”



“You stole the children?!”



“I moved the children. Once I had the child I would find a magical family with as many similar physical features as I could. Hair or eye color was all I needed in most cases. It was more of a fostering than a true adoption, and I only approached families who were willing to take on another child. They pulled the young witch or wizard into their own family, taking them on as one of their own and keeping them safe until school while also re-educating them to assure them that they were not demons.”



Hermione stared across the garage at a nail embedded in the far wall. “Then that means that the pureblood families…”



“Are not as pure as they would like to believe!”



She couldn’t help it. She laughed. Imagine, there was most likely a bit of muggle blood in the Malfoy family tree somewhere. Somewhere so far back that they probably were no longer even aware of it. “But what about the Chamber of Secrets and the basilisk?”



“The Chamber was meant to be a hiding place should the school ever come under attack. And as for my pet, she was supposed to leave the chamber in such times to face the attackers or to deal with traitors. Riddle was the one who used her against fellow students who had done no wrong. I am sorry you had to go through that.”



She mulled this over in her mind. So the Death Eaters had it completely wrong. Everyone had it completely wrong. “Sir, I am sorry if I ever called you any foul or less-than-respectful names.”



“Apology accepted, though it was hardly your fault. This is the first time I have ever been able to speak in my defense.”



She smiled to herself and returned her attentions to her water when she heard the screech of an owl. Looking through a window in the side of the garage she saw a tawny owl seated on her mother’s birdbath. Curious, she opened the fridge and tore off a bit of luncheon meat from one of the packs stored there before going out to meet the bird. “Hello, lovely. Do you have something for me?”



The owl preened and stuck out his leg. She untied the roll of parchment there and offered him the chunk of ham, which it accepted gratefully. “Feel free to rest here as long as you like if you need to.” She stroked his feathers with the back of her fingers so as not to get too much of her own oils on his feathers before moving over to the outdoor swing to read her letter.



Hermione,



Thank you for your last letter. I am home now and feeling much better. Mum and Dad still fuss over me, but I suppose that is only to be expected. But what about you? I heard rumors that you took ill after the maze but no one seems to know much more than that.



Dad says you’ve been called to testify at the inquest into Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. He was furious when he found out that the Ministry might be looking for the wrong man and demanded someone take a serious look into the allegations that Peter Pettigrew is still alive. He believes they are indulging him because of me and what happened, and we really don’t care if that is there only reason behind it. I do, however, want to caution you to please remain calm no matter what the Wizengamont throw at you. The Ministry is determined to undermine Harry and Professor Dumbledore, please do not give them any reason to act out against you.



I have started up again with my teacher here at the village near our home. He was surprised at how far I progressed while at school. I told him that I practiced with a girl who had been at it a bit longer than I and had to keep up. He asked if you competed and I told him that I did not think so. Do you? I saw the tournament schedules and most of it conflicts with our school year, so I don’t see how you could possibly find the time.



One last bit of news before I close; I’ve made Head Boy. Professor Dumbledore visited me in the hospital and told me, then. He said he wanted to be certain I would be well enough to return to school and take up the position. Dad’s been flying high ever since. You know how he gets. I feel sorry for the blokes at work.



I hope to see you soon. Mum and Dad have been talking a lot with the Head Master and I’ve heard them saying something about sending me to stay somewhere with the Weasleys after the inquest, though they haven’t gone into much detail. I do get the impression, however, that it has something to do with what happened in the graveyard that night and they’re trying to tuck me away for safekeeping. I suppose that means Harry will be there soon as well. Has anything been said to you? If not, then I suppose I will see you on the train.



Yours,



Cedric



She smiled. She could not keep herself from it. Head Boy! Hardly a surprise as Cedric was perfect for the position. And she would wager he would make a much nicer Head Boy than Percy. She could not imagine Cedric with his nose buried in Prefects Who Gained Power.



Folding up the letter she tucked it back into its envelope and headed into the house. The cool air was a welcome after working up a sweat. She dropped the empty water bottle into the bin and snagged an apple from a bowl on the counter as she made her way through the kitchen. The idea was to go upstairs for a shower but voices in the den stopped her.



“It is a first rate school, and with her marks I have no doubt that Madam Maxime would welcome her and gladly.”



“We appreciate that, Severus, but still… change her schools this late into it all? All of her friends are at Hogwarts, and she has been working so hard at keeping at the top of her studies. She’s hoping to make prefect this year, but she won’t have a chance of that if she switches schools now.”



“Unfortunately, Jacob, that cannot be avoided. It is in Hermione’s best interests to leave England. Certain… events have been set in motion which put her at risk.”



“What kind of risk? Does this have something to do with that boy being attacked last term? She wouldn’t go into any details about it.”



“Doubtless because she wished to protect you and Hannah.” She heard Severus give an impatient sigh. “Jacob, not too long ago the magical community was caught up in a war. One that was fueled by bigotry magical families had against children born into non-magical families and was manipulated by a madman who wanted power. It ended shortly after Hermione was born, but there are still those who held tightly to their misled beliefs. Now tensions are mounting again and we may very well be facing another war. One that Hermione will be caught in the middle of unless we remove her from the front lines.”



“But why? We’ve made no secret of your connection to her and thought you had done the same. Wouldn’t the fact that you’re her birth father protect her.”



Hermione gripped the apple in her hand, bruising the tender flesh. She hovered in the archway of the den. “Why not tell him the rest of it, Severus? Why not tell him which side you were on during the war?”



The two men, her two fathers, turned to face her. She looked a mess, of course, but right now she looked angry. If she looked as angry as she felt then both men were made of very strong metal, because she felt mad enough to incinerate the house with a thought. Jacob, apparently, recognized the signs. “Princess, you look exhausted. You should probably go clean up. We’re supposed to take your mum to dinner tonight, remember?”



She did not move, her eyes fixed on Severus. “I will not change schools. I will not be sent away because you were an idiot when you were my age.”



“Easy, Girl. Do not let your temper run away from you.”



Severus lifted his chin slightly. Jacob frowned. “Hermione! Mind your manners.”



“No!” She took a step into the den. “Do you want to know the rest of it, Dad? Severus once danced to the same tune as those ‘bigots’. He believed that muggleborns didn’t belong at Hogwarts. He treated me like dirt until he found out that I was his!” She turned to face Severus. “What? Are you afraid they’ll demand you bring me in? Order you to make me toe the line?”



“That is precisely the danger!” He spat the words out at her, his black eyes flashing. “They will expect you to disown your muggle family and parrot their beliefs back to them. And your association with the Potter boy does nothing to help you!”



“I. Will. Not. Leave!” She punctuated each word with a downward punch of the hand still holding the apple. “I don’t care what you have to say or do, but you do it! Tell them that Dumbledore is keeping too close a watch on me. Tell them you need me to stay close to Harry in case I might accidentally pass on some important bit of information in confidence. Tell them I’m stark, raving mad, I don’t care! You made this mess, Severus Snape, and you can bloody well fix it! I will not pay for the sins of my father!”



Jacob, wisely, held silent during her tirade. Dad had seen her like this before, and it was never pretty. Fortunately she was well trained enough now that she no longer blew up the telly. Severus folded his arms, trying to stare her down. She would have scoffed if she did not think it would be seen as a sign of teenage angst. The idea that he could intimidate her any longer was foolish.



“Very well, Hermione, I will not send your application for transfer to Beauxbaton. However, I should also inform you that the Headmaster has decided that rather than coming to Spinner’s End this summer you should instead join the Weasleys at an as yet undisclosed location. He intends to speak with you and your parents regarding the change in plans when he comes to collect you for the inquest hearing.



She gave a sharp nod, enjoying her little victory. The nerve! After all the time and effort she had put in over the past four years! After all the times she had been with Harry and Ron defending the school from one thing or another! Now he sought to take her out of it all and leave the boys dangling on their own? Not that they were not both clever in their own right, but sometimes they were just too thick to see the answer right in front of them.



Jacob cleared his throat. “Well, I suppose that is settled.” He gave her a nervous look. Sometimes she wondered if her parents were not just a little bit frightened of her, even before Kathryn’s death and her more recent changes. They were proud of her, she knew, but they did not understand this strange world into which she had been thrown. “Severus, thank you for coming by to speak with me about this. I’m afraid Hannah and I don’t know a great deal about your world. It had never occurred to us to look at other possible schools, but sending her off to France… well… I don’t think her mother would like that very much.”



Severus gave Jacob a sharp nod before looking back to Hermoine. She refused to back down, her jaw tight and defiant. “I should not take up any more of your time, Jacob, and I really should be going.” He collected his cloak from where he had draped it over the back of a chair, folding it over his arm rather than putting it back on. “I’ll see myself out.”



And he did, giving her one last look. This time, though, she thought she saw a glint of approval in the depths of those black eyes. As though he was pleased that she was able to hold her own against him.



The front door closed with a firm sound and she felt some of the tension drain out of her. Her father cleared his throat delicately. “All right, Princess?”



She gave a sharp nod of her chin. “I’m fine, Dad.” Taking a breath she looked down at her bruised apple. “I should head upstairs and shower. Italian tonight?” He nodded. “Nothing white, then. It attracts tomato sauce like a magnet.”



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