A Lineage of Stars

To Hermione’s surprise, a massive black owl with regal gold eyes landed in front of her breakfast plate on Tuesday morning, shaking out its wings before it extended its leg out to her, from which hung a letter attached to a length of twine.

“And who might you be?” Hermione cooed affectionately as she untied the letter and retrieved a slice of bacon for the owl. It gobbled it up with a happy hoot before launching back into the air, its thick feathered wings carrying it back through the small door in the ceiling that allowed the owls entry into the Great Hall.

Hermione Granger

Hogwarts Castle, Scotland

Wondering who was writing to her—it wasn’t her mother’s messy handwriting; it was elegant, with loops and perfect cursive—Hermione flipped the envelope over, only to raise her eyebrows in surprise. There, stamped in black wax, was the crest of the House of Black. Hermione carefully separated the wax seal from the envelope and read the letter over her breakfast of toast and fruit.

Dear Hermione,

  Your letter came as quite a surprise—a good one, though, I assure you. I am grateful you had the courage to reach out to me, amidst what I’m sure feels like a whirlwind time in your young life.

  Indeed, Regulus was my cousin. Regulus, and his older brother, Sirius, were rather dear to me growing up, especially considering I wasn’t very close with my sisters growing up. In many ways, Regulus and Sirius were like my brothers, though as we grew up, we regretfully grew estranged as the pressures of the war overshadowed our relationship.

  Our family dynamics were always… complicated, to say the least. I’m unsure if you’re aware of our family’s prejudices, but they were a noose for me growing up, and when I fell in love with my husband, Ted (a Muggleborn), and ran away to marry him, I was disowned by the family. Regulus and Sirius were some of the only relatives who stayed in contact with me afterwards.

  Your father’s disappearance was never officially ruled as a death by the Ministry, but many assumed he passed during the war—it was commonplace then for entire families to go missing, only to turn up, unfortunately, dead. I always held out hope that he would resurface one day. I rather liked imagining that he’d run away from the trouble and the darkness and had started over away from our family finally. I’ve never quite stopped imagining that as a way to cope…

  I’m sure you have an endless amount of questions, so if I can shed light on the story of Regulus and our family, it would be my privilege to do so. I would also like to extend an invitation for you and your mother to visit me and my family at our home if ever the time feels right. Ted and I understand the craving for family more than most, and I think you’d likely find a friendship in our daughter, Nymphadora (though she prefers to be called “Tonks” or “Dora”). 

   Concerning my sister, Narcissa. Unfortunately, the last time I heard from her was after the war. However, I can provide some insight: Malfoy Manor, her home, is protected by centuries of wards and charms. Because of this, their address is not publicly listed in a directory, only within the Ministry for official records. If you would like to get a letter to Narcissa, I can assist you with forwarding it along if you would like.

  I’d be honoured if you kept in touch during your time at Hogwarts. I believe you should have begun your classes by now, correct? How are you enjoying them? What house were you sorted into? I was sorted into Slytherin, as most in our family are.

  Please do write anytime you wish. Remember, you do not have to face this new, unfamiliar world alone - you have family who would be overjoyed to know you and to be by your side during this journey.

  Warmly and with hope, 

  Andromeda Tonks (please call me Andy, not Mrs Tonks. It makes me feel ancient) x

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The letter put a pep in Hermione’s step all the way to her first Charms class with Professor Flitwick, the Head of Ravenclaw House—a man who also was a famous duelling champion. Excitement buzzed amongst the students as they entered the classroom, which was a warm, inviting space designed with magical practicality. The entrance to the room opened up to the highest level of the U-shaped tiered rows of desks that allowed them an unobstructed view of the lecture below. Behind Professor Flitwick’s desk were floor-to-ceiling shelves filled to the brim with books, enchanted objects and trinkets.

In the front row, Lily was sitting unpacking her stationary, her blonde hair tied down her back in long braids. Hermione headed down the rows to her and shuffled to the seat beside her. “Do you mind if I sit?”

Lily looked up and her face broke into a delighted grin. “Of course not!” She shuffled a notebook out of the way for Hermione. “I was going to make the time to see you today. Everything’s been so crazy, I haven’t had the chance. Sorry—”

“No, no,” Hermione stressed. “There’s no need to apologise. It’s been... crazy. How’s Hufflepuff treating you?” It was her first chance to catch up with Lily since their initial sorting. She’d missed the girl’s easygoing warmth.

If possible, Lily’s face spread into an even larger smile. “It’s amazing… Everyone’s been so friendly, and the common room is even better than I could’ve imagined—it’s yellow with these giant charmed windows and plants everywhere. My dad would have a field day with it,” she laughed. “I’m sharing a dorm with Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott. They’re really nice and since they’re both Purebloods, they’ve been telling me a lot about the wizarding world. What about Slytherin? The Hufflepuff Prefects warned us to be careful around Slytherins—said there’s loads of rivalry and that they’re not the nicest—but I thought that sounded like a silly generalization.”

Hermione shrugged, her expression thoughtful. “It’s not entirely wrong… Some of them aren’t very nice, but I’ve made friends with Adeline, Daphne, and Alana—they’re all in our year, and they’re great. I just try to ignore the ones who aren’t.”

A hush fell over the room as Professor Flitwick entered the classroom, his diminutive form bouncing with enthusiasm. He climbed onto his platform and clapped his hands together. “Welcome, first years, to Charms! Before we begin mastering the art of Charms, we must first understand the responsibilities and rules that come with wielding a wand.” He gestured toward the blackboard behind him, where golden letters formed the title The Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. “This,” Flitwick said, “is one of the most important pieces of legislation for young witches and wizards. Can anybody tell me what this law is exactly?”

Ernie Macmillan raised his hand. “It’s the law that restricts those under seventeen from using magic outside of school.”

“Correct, Mr Macmillan. Five points to Hufflepuff,” Professor Flitwick praised. “Now as Mr Macmillan said, the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery is the law imposed by the Ministry of Magic that restricts all of you from using magic outside of Hogwarts. However, there are multiple decrees within this law, some of which allow for exigent circumstances or adjustments to the overarching law. Can anyone tell me what one of the clauses of this law might be—one that either restricts or allows for magic use while underage?”

Susan Bones raised her hand and answered confidently, “It’s against the law to use magic in front of Muggles who aren’t your immediate family, which includes siblings, parents, guardians or anyone living in your family home.”

“Excellent, Miss Bones! Five points to Hufflepuff. Can anyone tell me when magic might be performed in front of Muggles?”

Daphne Greengrass raised her hand. “When your life is threatened or you’re acting in self-defence,” she said smoothly.

“Excellent, Miss Greengrass! Five points to Slytherin. Anyone else?”

Hermione hesitated unsurely. If acting in self-defence was covered under the law, she wondered if it counted if you were protecting someone else. After thinking it over, she raised her hand. “If someone else’s life was at risk—maybe if they were injured or weren’t able to protect themselves?”

“Exactly right, Miss Granger! Five points to Slytherin.” 

Zacharias Smith tentatively asked, “Professor Flitwick, I had a question: does accidental magic count if you already have a wand?”

Flitwick nodded approvingly at his question. “A fantastic question, Mr. Smith. If the accidental magic can be proven as accidental, then the Ministry will often just write the person a warning letter. Five points to Hufflepuff for the excellent question and consideration.” Flitwick’s eyes twinkled as he surveyed the class. “Now, can anyone explain how this law is enforced and by what department in the Ministry of Magic?”

Hannah Abbott raised her hand and explained, “The Improper Use of Magic Office at the Ministry of Magic enforces the law, sometimes with help from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement if the use of magic is severe enough. There’s a spell called the Trace that’s placed on underage witches and wizards. It detects unauthorized magic, but if you live in a magical household, the Trace can’t tell who performed the magic because of the other spells in the area.”

“Outstanding, Miss Abbott! Ten points to Hufflepuff for such a thorough answer!” Flitwick’s smile was radiant as Hermione furiously scribbled notes, determined to research the departments mentioned further.

Professor Flitwick cleared his throat. “Now, let’s discuss the positives and negatives of this law. Why might this law be beneficial?”

Lily raised her hand. “Well, if people who are underage have to follow this law and learn the consequences of all magic they use, there may be less opportunity to unknowingly expose the magical world while learning to control their magic, which in turn protects the Statute of Secrecy.” 

“Excellent, Miss Moon! Ten points to Hufflepuff. Yes, protecting our world is one of the primary goals of not only this law but all laws within the Ministry,” Professor Flitwick said. “What about the potential drawbacks of this law? Can anybody think of any negative impacts this law could have?”

Adeline Lestrange hesitated, then said, “Well, it seems unfair to Muggle-borns, doesn’t it? I mean, we purebloods and half-bloods often have access to performing magic at home because it can’t be monitored. This isn’t the case with Muggleborn students, so it presents an issue of unfairness, right, Professor?”

Professor Flitwick’s eyes brightened by her observation. “Too right you are, Miss Lestrange! Take ten points for Slytherin. This law raises conversations around equity and equality in the wizarding world, not only in this instance but in many others throughout the law—something I’m sure you’ll focus more on in some of your other classes throughout your years. Now that I’ve seen your clear understanding of the law, I’d like you all to write down these simplified explanations. We’ll continue to go over these for the rest of the year, but this will be it for now so that we can move on to proper wand care and safety.”

Article II: General Provisions

• Age Restriction
  Magical practice outside a recognized educational institution is prohibited for individuals under the age of 17, except in exceptional circumstances as outlined in Article IV.

• Parental Responsibility
  Parents or guardians of underage witches and wizards are responsible for monitoring and restricting magical activity within their homes and under their supervision.

Article III: Enforcement

• Magical Trace
  A magical trace is placed on all witches and wizards under the age of 17 to monitor unauthorized magical activity.

• Detection Protocol
  Unauthorized magical activity is detected by the Trace and reported to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. This detection is only effective outside of magical homes or concealed areas.

• Warnings and Sanctions

• First Offense: A formal warning will be issued to the underage wizard or witch and their guardians.

• Second Offense: A hearing may be conducted by the Wizengamot or the appropriate magical authority, and disciplinary actions may include temporary wand confiscation or community service.

• Severe Offenses: Use of dark or dangerous magic may result in expulsion from magical institutions or referral to magical law enforcement.

Article IV: Exceptions

• Educational Use
  Underage magic performed under the supervision of a recognized magical institution, such as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is exempt from restriction.

• Life-Threatening Situations
  Magic performed to save a life or prevent significant harm is permissible and will be evaluated on a case-by-case basis by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

• International Travel
  Magical use outside the United Kingdom is subject to the laws of the respective magical jurisdiction. Underage wizards and witches must adhere to local regulations.

As Flitwick transitioned to wand safety, his tone grew serious. “Your wands are powerful tools, but they can also be incredibly dangerous if mishandled or mistreated. Here at Hogwarts, we have additional guidelines: never perform magic in corridors to protect the students around you, always point your wand away from yourself and others when practising spells, never attempt magic that you haven’t been taught, and most importantly, always listen to your professors’ instructions.”

He gestured to the blackboard, where a list of rules appeared, and instructed them to make note of them all:

1. Do not perform magic in the corridors.
2. Always check your surroundings before casting a spell.
3. Do not experiment with unknown or advanced magic without supervision.
4. Report any wand damage immediately.
5. Practice spells in designated, safe areas only.

“Next lesson, we’ll begin exploring the theory behind the first charm we’ll be studying this year: the Wand-Lighting Charm, Lumos. By Tuesday morning in class, I would like a minimum of two feet of parchment on my desk exploring the theory behind the Lumos Charm and its history. If this isn’t handed in, you will not be allowed to attempt the charm.”

The room was filled with the sound of quills scratching as students diligently took notes. When the bell rang, they all packed up their things to head for their first break of the day.

“Remember, a safe wizard is a successful wizard!” Flitwick called as they exited the classroom.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Classroom 3C was tucked away in a less-frequented corridor of Hogwarts, its narrow stone hallway dimly lit by flickering torches. As Hermione and Daphne entered, they were greeted by the overpowering scent of garlic that seemed to cling to every surface. Strands of dried garlic hung from the beams, casting shadows on the walls. The smell was so strong that several students paused at the doorway, exchanging looks of confusion and disgust before stepping inside.

“This is ridiculous,” Daphne muttered, dropping into a seat near the middle of the room. “Does he think vampires are lurking in the castle?”

Hermione stifled a laugh and sat down beside her, carefully unpacking her supplies. “Did you know there’s a rumour that there’s a curse on the Defence job?” she asked in a low voice, leaning closer to Daphne. “I overheard Draco talking about it with Vincent this morning.”

Daphne raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, that’s not just some rumour. There really is one. My father told me about it ages ago. There’s been a new teacher every year for as long as he can remember. Something always happens—accidents, disappearances, and even deaths. No one knows who cast it or why, but it’s been impossible to break.”

Hermione frowned, her pen poised over her parchment. “Why would anyone even want to take the job if it’s cursed?”

Daphne shrugged. “Good question. Maybe they think they’ll be the ones to break it? Or maybe the Ministry pressures them into it. Quirrell used to teach Muggle Studies—maybe he thought Defence would be more exciting.”

“Sounds more like a nightmare,” Hermione murmured, wrinkling her nose at the garlic again.

Their conversation was cut short as the classroom door creaked open. Professor Quirrell entered, his robes sweeping the floor behind him. He was tall and thin, his skin pale and almost sallow under the dim lighting. The plum-coloured turban wound around his head was oversized and awkward, sitting heavily atop his shoulders. His darting eyes gave him a perpetually nervous appearance, and his hands trembled slightly as he clutched a stack of parchment. Reaching the front of the classroom, Quirrell set the parchment down and picked up a piece of chalk. With slow, deliberate movements, he wrote across the blackboard in uneven letters: Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Turning back to face the class, he cleared his throat. “G-Good m-morning, students,” he stammered, his voice high-pitched and shaky. “T-Today, we will begin an introduction to Defence Against the Dark Arts, focusing on understanding the threats posed by d-dark magic and creatures. W-We will also discuss the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the laws that govern this branch of magic.”

Hermione noticed how his hands gripped the edge of the desk as though for balance. His gaze flitted nervously across the room, never settling on anyone for long.

“Let us b-begin with a discussion,” Quirrell continued and turned to the board to write: Hexes, Jinxes, Curses. “What is the difference between hexes, j-jinxes, and curses? Who can tell me?” Several hands shot up, Hermione’s among them. Quirrell pointed hesitantly in her direction. “Y-Yes, Miss…”

“Granger,” she supplied. “Well, hexes and jinxes are less severe than curses, which are designed to harm, inconvenience, or control others. Curses are the most dangerous.”

“C-Correct, Miss Granger,” Quirrell said, his thin lips pulling into a faint smile. “F-Five points to S-Slytherin. Hexes and j-jinxes are indeed less severe than curses, though they should not be underestimated. Can anyone explain why curses are considered especially dangerous?”

Daphne raised her hand and was called on. “Because curses require more intent and malice from the caster. They’re designed to cause serious harm, and some are irreversible.”

“Precisely, Miss Greengrass. F-Five points to S-Slytherin,” Quirrell stammered. “Can anyone provide examples?”

Dean Thomas raised his hand. “A jinx could be the Trip Jinx—it makes someone trip over.”

Quirrell nodded, his turban bobbing awkwardly. “Correct, Mr. Thomas. Five points to Gryffindor. A harmless j-jinx, but effective in certain situations. Anyone for a hex?”

Pansy Parkinson raised her hand. “The Bat-Bogey Hex. It turns someone’s bogeys into bats that attack them.”

Several students giggled, but Quirrell nodded. “V-Very good, Miss Parkinson. Five points to Slytherin. A n-nasty hex, but not l-lethal. And what about curses? Does anyone know an example?”

There was a hesitant pause before Ron Weasley spoke up. “The Cruciatus Curse.”

The room fell silent, the laughter dying instantly. Quirrell’s face darkened, and his hands gripped the desk tighter. “Yes, Mr Weasley. Five points to Gryffindor… the Cruciatus Curse is one of the Unforgivable Curses,” he said, his voice quieter but steadier. “It is a spell of unimaginable cruelty, designed to cause excruciating pain without leaving a mark. Its use is punishable by a life sentence in Azkaban. W-We will not speak of it lightly.”

Hermione exchanged a glance with Daphne, both girls scribbling down notes.

Quirrell then steered the discussion toward magical law, asking, “W-Why do you think the Ministry imposes such strict rules on the use of dark magic?”

“Because dark magic is dangerous and unpredictable,” Hermione said after raising her hand. 

“V-Very good, Miss Granger. Dark magic often l-leaves a stain on the soul of the caster, but it can also corrupt the victim. T-This is why the Department of Magical Law Enforcement monitors its use so closely.” He continued, outlining the Ministry’s role in regulating the use of defensive and offensive magic, the importance of self-defence, and the ethical considerations involved in casting spells. 

The discussion became more animated as students debated the positives and negatives of magical law enforcement.

“I think it’s necessary,” Daphne argued. “Without laws, people could use magic however they wanted, and the world would be chaos.”

“But what about wizards who use defensive spells in self-defence and still get into trouble for it?” Draco countered. “Not everyone has time to file paperwork with the Ministry when their life is on the line.”

Adeline raised her hand. “That’s why the laws are written to allow self-defence. But it’s important to make sure people don’t abuse that loophole.”

Quirrell nodded, though his expression remained uneasy. “Excellent points, all of you. R-Remember, knowledge of the law is as important as skill with a wand. The more you understand the rules, the b-better prepared you will be to defend yourselves—and others.”

As the class ended, Hermione felt a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. Quirrell might be nervous and awkward, but the subject matter was undeniably fascinating. Her notebook was filled with questions she was eager to research further. As she and Daphne walked out of the classroom, she turned to her friend.

“What do you think?” Hermione asked.

Daphne shrugged. “Quirrell’s a wreck, but the class could be interesting. If he can stop shaking long enough to teach us something useful.”

Hermione chuckled, her thoughts already racing ahead to the possibilities of what they might learn next.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Their final class of the day, Potions, was the one Hermione had been anticipating all week. 

Descending into the dungeons, she felt the air grow colder, the chill prickling her skin. The room was dimly lit by flickering torches, their light casting eerie shadows across the rows of desks. The walls were lined with shelves bearing jars of strange and unsettling contents: powdered root of asphodel, pickled slugs, and eyeballs suspended in murky liquid. Each jar was meticulously labelled in Snape’s precise, spidery script.

Hermione took her seat, carefully unpacking her textbook, parchment, and quill. A shining brass cauldron sat on the desk before her, flanked by a set of scales and a small wooden box of tools, including a silver stirring rod, a set of measuring spoons, and a pair of dragon-hide gloves.

At precisely one-thirty, the heavy dungeon door creaked open, and Professor Snape swept into the room, his black robes billowing like smoke. His gaze was sharp, his presence commanding silence.

“You are here,” he began in his silken voice, words carrying a weight that demanded attention. “to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron, the power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind and ensnaring the senses… but if you have the wit, you may yet learn to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death.”

Hermione was captivated. Each word seemed to pull her further into the mysterious world of potion-making.

Snape continued, his tone sharpening. “Potions-making requires discipline, precision, and, above all, respect for the materials and tools you use. A single misstep—a poorly cleaned stirrer, an unmeasured ingredient—can result in catastrophe. Let us discuss the basics of preparation and safety.”

He gestured to the blackboard, which was filled with his elegant, slanted handwriting:

Essential Safety and Preparation Guidelines

• Workspace Maintenance:

• Clear your work area of non-essential items. Contamination often stems from clutter.
• Wipe down your cauldron and tools before and after use with a cleansing charm or an approved potion-cleaning solution.
1. Tool Care:
• Use dragon-hide gloves when handling hazardous ingredients to prevent burns or magical reactions.
• Stirring rods must be made of non-reactive materials like silver or glass. After use, submerge in a neutralizing solution to avoid cross-contamination.
2. Ingredient Handling:
• Ingredients like powdered asphodel or shrivelfig juice are highly reactive. Measure precisely using scales or calibrated spoons.
• Always double-check ingredient compatibility in your textbook before combining them.
3. Cauldron Maintenance:
• Pewter cauldrons are standard for first-years but are prone to erosion if improperly cleaned. Use a mild scrubbing potion and a soft brush.
• Avoid using metal stirrers with copper cauldrons; the reaction could render your potion unstable.
4. Fire Safety:
• Cauldrons must be placed on heat sources suited to their material. Overheating brass or pewter cauldrons can warp them, affecting brewing accuracy.
• Always have an emergency extinguishing charm prepared, such as Aguamenti or Frigus Incantatem.

As Snape spoke, he moved around the room, his black eyes fixing on students with unnerving intensity. “Potions are precise. You will not stir ‘about this much.’ Your cauldron will not sit on a ‘medium flame.’ You will follow the instructions listed in your potions textbook to the letter until—or even if—you ever make it to your N.E.W.T years, where you’ll learn about experimentation with potions.”

Hermione’s quill flew across her parchment, capturing every word written on the blackboard.

“Contamination,” Snape continued, his voice dropping ominously, “is one of the most common causes of failure—and explosions. A single grain of powdered moonstone left in your cauldron from a previous brew could cause your potion to bubble over or release toxic fumes. Your tools must be spotless before each use. If I feel that you are not taking the appropriate measures to keep your tools well maintained and your ingredients cared for, I will have you removed from Potions for the rest of your Hogwarts years.”

He waved his wand, and a silver stirring rod appeared on his desk, gleaming under the torchlight. “Observe,” he said, holding it up. “After use, immerse the rod in a neutralizing solution of diluted bubotuber pus and water for ten seconds. Rinse thoroughly. Should you fail to do this, residue from one potion may react with the next.” He showed them how to do so.

When he finished the lecture, Snape handed out a quiz to assess their foundational knowledge. Hermione eagerly bent over her parchment, reading through the questions:

What are the most commonly used materials in cauldron making?

Brass, Copper, Pewter, and Silver.

Name three uses of powdered dragon horn in potion-making.

Increasing potion stability, enhancing magical potency, and counteracting volatile ingredients.

What is a bezoar, and what is its use?

A bezoar is a stone from the stomach of a goat, used as an antidote to most poisons.

Why is it essential to wear dragon-hide gloves when handling certain ingredients?

To protect your hands from reactions caused by direct contact with ingredients or potions that are dangerous or toxic. 

What are the risks of improperly heating a pewter cauldron?

Overheating a pewter cauldron can cause it to melt, warp, or crack, which may ruin the potion and create dangerous spills.

What is the correct way to dispose of unused or spoiled potion ingredients?

Dispose of them in the designated hazardous waste container or follow Professor Snape’s specific instructions. Never pour them down a sink, as residue may react with other substances.

What spell can be used to quickly extinguish flames if a potion boils over?

The Aguamenti charm can produce a jet of water to extinguish flames quickly.

What safety equipment is essential to have nearby during a potions lesson?

Dragon-hide gloves, protective goggles, a neutralizing solution, and a wand for emergency spells are all essential safety equipment.

What is the correct procedure if a potion accidentally comes into contact with your skin?

Rinse the area immediately with clean water or a neutralizing solution, inform the professor, and apply a healing salve or antidote if needed.

When she turned in her parchment, Snape read it over with a critical eye. “Acceptable, Miss Granger,” he said curtly. “Return to your seat.”

Hermione took her seat with a small, satisfied smile. She might not have earned open praise from the professor, but an “acceptable” from Snape felt like a victory. 

“On Thursday, we will begin discussing the Breath-Freshening Potion, in preparation for next week’s first practical brewing lessons. I expect you to read the chapter on this potion in your textbook and come prepared to discuss it, with all of your correct equipment for my perusal. If I find so much as a speck of dust on your cauldron, you will not be brewing until the problem is rectified. Dismissed.”

Hermione packed her bag, wanting to head up to the owlery to write a letter to Andromeda before it was time for dinner. The letter had weighed heavily on her all day—it was a tether to a family she was only just getting an introduction to, and she didn’t want to waste a single moment that could lead to her learning anything new about that family. As she stepped into the corridor, however, her plans were interrupted by a hand on her arm. She turned to find Adeline standing beside her, expression serious but not unkind.

“Do you mind if we talk for a minute?” 

Hermione blinked, curiosity prickling at the edges of her thoughts. “Of course,” she replied, shifting the heavy bag slung over her shoulder—she really did need to get it charmed to be weightless like her trunk.

Adeline led the way from the Potions classrooms and further into the labyrinth of Hogwarts’ dungeons, where they bypassed the common rooms, leaving behind the rest of the Slytherins in their year, and instead heading into an old, unused classroom. The charmed sconces in the room flickered on when they stepped inside the classroom. Many of the dungeon's classrooms weren’t used anymore, and yet the room was spotless—a testament to the proud, tireless work of the castle’s house elves. The worn, slightly warped desks were devoid of dust, their polished surfaces gleaming faintly.

Adeline let her bag slide to the floor and leaned against one of the ancient desks, where she turned to face Hermione. 

“Is something the matter?” asked Hermione, perching on a nearby desk.

Adeline wasted no time. “Why’d you receive a letter from my aunt’s owl, Vilemina, this morning?” she asked directly, her grey eyes locked onto Hermione’s.

Hermione stiffened slightly, caught off guard by the bluntness of the question. “Your aunt’s owl?” she echoed, buying herself a moment to think.

Adeline crossed her arms. “Andy—Andromeda—is my aunt. But I’ve lived with her since I was a baby, ever since my parents were arrested and sent to Azkaban. She’s the only mother I’ve ever known, and she’s never mentioned you. So, naturally, I’m curious as to why she’s writing to you.”

Hermione hesitated, glancing down at her hands. This was not how she had envisioned discussing this—if she had envisioned discussing it at all. But she could see the determination in Adeline’s face, the sharp edge of protectiveness in her posture. Hermione sighed, pulled Andromeda’s letter from her bag, and handed it over.

Adeline took it immediately, her expression softening only slightly as she unfolded the parchment. Hermione waited in tense silence, her heart pounding as Adeline’s eyes scanned the letter. When Adeline finally looked up, her face was a mixture of disbelief and confusion. “Is this real?”

“Yes,” Hermione said softly, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions threatening to rise. She slid onto the desk beside Adeline, her fingers tracing the grain of the wood absently. “I found out at Gringotts over the summer when I tried to open a vault. It turns out my father had already opened one for me. Until that moment, I didn’t even know his name, let alone that he was a wizard. It’s always just been me and Mum, so I wrote to Andromeda hoping she might… I don’t know, help me figure out this whole mess. Maybe even… be a part of my life.” Hermione blushed a little, as if uncomfortable by her eagerness for family and connection.

Adeline stared at the letter again before folding it carefully and handing it back. “Thanks for telling me. That can’t have been easy.” 

“So, we’re related to Draco, hm?” Hermione asked teasingly.

“Unfortunately for us,” Adeline quipped with a smirk, breaking the tension.

Hermione chuckled, the sound easing some of the tightness in her chest. “He is a bit of a jerk, isn’t he?”

“It’s all for show,” Adeline replied with a shrug.

“Really?”

Adeline nodded. “I grew up with him. Lucius, Draco’s father, isn’t exactly a kind man. He wasn’t on the right side of the war either, let’s just say that. But Narcissa, his mum, was more willing to mend fences after everything. She and Andy started talking again, and she’d bring Draco over sometimes. Around his father, Draco’s all bravado and posturing, but at our house? He was just a kid. We played Gobstones and built forts out of furniture. Andy says that kind of behaviour—changing depending on who you’re with, that is—is common in families like ours. Even Regulus was like that, though Sirius was the opposite. He never missed an opportunity to show how different he was.”

Hermione considered this. “That makes sense,” she said thoughtfully. “At the end of the day, we all just want people to like us. Draco’s no different, even if he was raised with money and privilege.”

“Exactly.”

For a moment, the room fell into a companionable silence, broken only by the faint murmur of voices echoing from distant hallways.

Adeline broke the quiet. “Andy’s told me a lot about our family—good and bad. If you ever want to know more, you can ask me. Or Tonks, when she’s free. She’s training to be an Auror, so she’s busy, but she’s brilliant. She’s like my sister, and she’d love to get to know you. Uncle Ted, too. He’s amazing. He works as a pediatric healer at St. Mungo’s, and Andy works part-time in the creature-related injuries ward when she’s not sitting on the Wizengamot. They’re good people, Hermione.”

“I can tell,” Hermione said, her voice warm with gratitude. “Thank you, Adeline.”

Adeline smiled. “Anytime. What do you know about Regulus?" Adeline asked, her green eyes piercing through the quiet room.

Hermione hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of the letter she had just handed over. "Almost nothing," she admitted softly. "Just that he disappeared during the war, and that he had a brother—Sirius—who went to Azkaban.”

Adeline's brow furrowed as if contemplating something. She sat back against the desk, her expression more reflective than before. "I’m guessing you don’t know the full story, do you? About Regulus, I mean."

Hermione shook her head. "Not really. I know he was a Black, and that he vanished. But not much else."

Adeline gave a small sigh, running a hand through her hair. "Well, it’s a bit of a tangled history, but I’ll tell you what I know." She leaned forward, her tone quiet but serious. “When Sirius ran away, it caused a lot of tension at home. Walburga and Orion were furious with him for going against everything they stood for, and they were desperate to find someone who would uphold the family legacy. They’d been grooming Sirius to take over as heir, but once he left, they turned their attention to Regulus. They thought he’d be the one to carry on the Black name—someone who’d continue their pureblood, blood-supremacist values, and all the expectations that came with that title.”

Adeline’s gaze softened as if recalling the bitterness of her own family’s history. "But then Voldemort turned his eye onto Regulus, too. And, well, Regulus fell in with the wrong crowd—joined the Death Eaters."

Hermione frowned, feeling the weight of this revelation settle in her chest. "Regulus was a Death Eater?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Adeline nodded, her fingers drumming lightly against the desk. "Yeah. But I don’t think he was fully on board with everything. From what Andy has told me, in comparison to people like Lucius, Regulus was different… he was gentle; young, impressionable, and he just wanted to make his parents proud, I think. It’s tragic, really. He thought joining Voldemort’s cause would earn him the respect they denied him, but the deeper he got into it, the more he realized it wasn’t what he wanted to be a part of—not what he wanted his legacy to be. He tried to leave. Tried to defect."

Hermione's eyes widened. "But what happened to him?"

Adeline's expression darkened, a shadow flickering across her face. "It’s rumoured that Voldemort killed him for trying to defect. Back then, if you tried to turn on Voldemort or his followers, you didn’t just get away with it. They hunted you down, and no one ever knew what happened to Regulus. No one’s seen him since. Some say he was killed by Voldemort's followers. But nothing was ever confirmed. It was just one of those things that gets swept under the rug because there was so much going on at the time…”

Hermione sat still, processing everything Adeline had just shared. The idea of Regulus—a man she had no real understanding of until now—being caught up in such a horrific situation was surreal. She felt a pang of sorrow for him, for the man who had seemingly tried to distance himself from the very darkness he had once embraced. But she also felt an incredible sense of anger at him. Death Eaters had targeted people of “lesser” blood, people like her mother. How could he of done something like that? How could he of contributed to a cause that would’ve killed her mother and some of the people sitting beside her in class just because of who they’d been born to? It disgusted her and yet, she was still just a little girl inside who yearned for her father, and she didn’t know what to do with that in the light of all of this… 

Adeline’s voice broke through her thoughts. "You’re not the only one with family secrets," she said, her tone gentler now. "If you ever want to talk about Regulus—or anything, really—Andy and Tonks are there for you, and so am I. You’re family now.”

Hermione smiled softly, feeling the warmth of Adeline’s words sink into her chest. It wasn’t a guarantee, but for the first time in a long while, she felt the possibility of connection.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

On Thursday, they had their first Herbology lesson with the Hufflepuffs and their Head of House, Professor Pomona Sprout, in the Hogwarts Greenhouses. It was a class Hermione had been looking forward to, if only because it promised to be a nice break from the more academic subjects they had been thrown into. 

The morning was warm but a lovely breeze hung in the air as they walked toward the greenhouses, which gleamed in the early light, nestled on the north side of the castle near the vegetable patches.

The greenhouses were vast, glass-walled structures with sharp, peaked roofs. Long serpentine dragon statues ran along the rooftops, their forms winding in and out of the arched glass. The plants inside were like living artwork—varieties of herbs, flowers, and magical plants from all corners of the wizarding world; some exotic and rare, with iridescent petals or glowing leaves, while others were more familiar, like rosemary or thyme. The warm, humid air inside was thick with the scent of earth and greenery. 

The Hufflepuffs were already there, a few of them chatting with one another as they gathered around their pots. Lily waved at Hermione eagerly when the Slytherins arrived and Hermione waved back.

Adeline leaned toward Hermione, whispering in her ear, "Do you think we’ll be handling something dangerous and exciting today?"

"Probably not," Hermione whispered back, though she wasn’t entirely sure. Herbology was known for its unpredictable surprises. 

Professor Sprout, a short, plump woman was already inside, sorting through the tools and pots. Her robes were a deep shade of green, the colour of leaves in late spring, and her hands were covered with a pair of worn, leather gardening gloves. Her voice, warm and inviting, greeted the students as they entered. "Welcome, first years!" she called, clapping her hands together in greeting. "Today, we’re going to start with something simple: the basics of plant care. But remember, not all plants are as innocent as they may seem. Some bite, some sting, and some—well, let’s just say they’ve been known to get rather... feisty." She gave a wink and a smile, and Hermione noticed that she immediately felt at ease, despite not being particularly fond of getting dirt on her clothes and beneath her nails.

They gathered around workstations, each one set up with a trowel, gloves and scraggly-looking plants with thin green stalks and delicate leaves. 

Professor Sprout explained that today, they’d assist her with pruning the leaves off of two of the plants from their curriculum that year to get an introduction to them.

“This," Professor Sprout began, "is the Mimbulus mimbletonia, a fascinating little creature—" she paused as several students exchanged puzzled looks. “No, it’s not a creature,” she corrected with a chuckle, “but it is quite unique. If you look closely at the leaves, you’ll see little lumps on them. That’s where the plant stores its defensive mechanism. When threatened, it releases a sticky, foul-smelling liquid."

At the mention of the smell, Hermione wrinkled her nose, imagining the worst. Professor Sprout gave them all a look that warned them not to get too close. “I’ll show you how to handle it safely. First, let’s all make sure we have our gloves on—no bare hands for this one."

With that, they carefully began to follow her instructions, moving the pots to the workbench and preparing their tools. Hermione’s attention was drawn to the way Professor Sprout handled the plants with such care and precision, always careful not to trigger any unwanted defences. Her movements were gentle, sure and confident, and it was clear that she loved what she did.

The plants proved a bit more troublesome than expected. As soon as Hermione gently nudged her Mimbulus mimbletonia, the lump-like growths on the leaves started to wobble. She gasped, and in response, the plant released a burst of thick, stinky liquid straight into the air, causing several of the students to yelp and scramble backward.

Professor Sprout chuckled lightly, not even flinching at the horrid smell. "That’s the stinksap in action. Now, remember, when it’s angry, it can squirt at quite a distance. You’ll need to learn how to calm it down." With a stern but playful smile, Professor Sprout demonstrated how to coax the plant by gently speaking to it and lowering the threat level. “Plants are like people, you know. They respond to kindness—well, some of them do." 

Adeline was next to try, her movements more practised than Hermione’s. She deftly pruned a leaf off the plant, and in doing so, the Mimbulus mimbletonia seemed to relax, its leaves no longer wobbling aggressively. Hermione couldn’t help but feel a bit impressed by Adeline’s ease with the plant.

Once the plant had settled, Professor Sprout asked them all to carefully trim a few leaves for their herbarium assignments. "These plants are particularly good for potion-making, especially for brewing antidotes," she explained. "Now, let’s move on to something a little more tricky."

They were introduced to a species of plant known as Devil’s Snare. As Professor Sprout demonstrated, it immediately sprang up, wrapping itself around her wrist with alarming speed. But instead of panicking, she calmly instructed the class to keep their wands ready and stay calm. "The trick is not to fight it. Devil’s Snare reacts to movement. If you stay still and keep your calm, it will loosen its grip. Additionally, they’re adverse to sunlight, so if necessary, you can use a Lumos Charm—which as I’m aware, you will be learning soon in Charms—to assist you.”

It was a thrilling, if nerve-wracking experience. Hermione focused intently, carefully following the instructions to stay still. When it was her turn, she slowly reached out toward the plant, ready to pull back if it began to lash out. Her heart raced as the tendrils of Devil’s Snare reached for her, but she stayed still, remembering Professor Sprout’s advice. To her surprise, the plant relaxed, and she was able to carefully trim a few dying leaves without incident.

By the end of the lesson, Professor Sprout had unloaded a good deal of introductory plant care knowledge onto them. They were all covered in dirt, but despite her usual dislike for getting messy, Hermione felt a strange sense of accomplishment. She had learned not just how to handle the two plants, but how to remain calm and composed when faced with something unpredictable.

“Good job, everyone,” Professor Sprout said as they finished up. “Remember, Herbology is just as much about patience as it is about knowledge. Treat the plants well, and they’ll treat you well in return. Tomorrow, we will look more into the theoretical side of the two plants we studied today to learn their purposes and use in our world, how they’re grown and harvested, and other necessary information. See you all tomorrow in the adjoining classroom.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The following day, on Friday afternoon, they had their final class of the week: Flying Lessons. Hermione had been dreading this lesson. Heights were a fear she had never quite overcome, and the idea of being airborne on a tiny broomstick made her stomach twist with anxiety. Adeline, on the other hand, was practically buzzing with excitement as they made their way to the Quidditch Pitch. She chattered nonstop about her love for flying—how freeing it was to feel the wind rushing past her skin and how much she longed to join the Quidditch team. Hermione, though, could only think of the wind whipping her face as she plummeted to the ground. The very idea sent knots into her stomach.

They joined the Gryffindors on the Quidditch Pitch, where Madam Hooch, the flying instructor and Quidditch referee, was waiting. Madam Hooch’s appearance was striking, with spiky grey hair cut short and sharp yellow eyes that Hermione guessed had to be charmed. She wore a simple white collared shirt, a black tie with the Hogwarts crest embroidered on it, and black outer robes. Her firm and commanding voice was enough to put anyone on edge as she addressed the first years.

“Welcome, first years,” Madam Hooch’s voice rang out with authority. As she paced between the two lines of students—Slytherin on one side, Gryffindor on the other—her movements reminded Hermione of a military drill sergeant. “I’m Madam Hooch, and I’ll be teaching you rudimentary broomstick skills. How many of you have flown before?” Hermione noticed that most of those who raised their hands were purebloods or half-bloods—Adeline among them, as well as Draco, Ron, and a few others.

Madam Hooch continued, "I expect those of you with experience to help out your classmates. Safety is our priority today." She instructed everyone to step up beside their broomsticks, extend their dominant hand to them, and say, “Up!” in a clear, firm voice.

Those who had flown before did so confidently, and their brooms rose obediently. Hermione’s broom, however, was less cooperative. She stood there, staring at it like it was a wild animal waiting to pounce. “U-Up!” she stammered, but nothing happened.

Adeline, who had easily summoned her broom, glanced over with a smile. “You need to say it with more confidence. Brooms can sense hesitation, and that’s when accidents happen.”

“I don’t like heights,” Hermione admitted, her voice trembling. “I’ve never been comfortable with flying. Even on planes, I get this horrible feeling in my stomach, thinking of everything that could go wrong. My Mum always says it’s not one of my worst habits.”

Adeline nodded sympathetically. “These brooms are enchanted to keep us safe. They won’t go higher than five meters. If you don’t like it after today’s lesson, you can get permission from your Mum or Madam Hooch to sit out for the rest of the term. But I can hold your broom for you if you like, to make you feel safer.”

Hermione took a deep breath, the reassurance helping her calm her nerves. She raised her hand, this time speaking more firmly. “Up!” The broom wobbled a little but eventually rose off the ground. Hermione’s heart raced as her hand grasped the handle.

“Good job!” Adeline cheered, clapping loudly.

Once everyone had successfully mounted their brooms, Madam Hooch guided them through the next steps: kick off the ground, hover for a moment, and then return to the earth. Hermione followed Adeline’s lead and mounted her broom with help. She kicked off the ground, her legs trembling, and found herself hovering a foot above the ground for a few seconds before her legs gave way and she touched down with a soft thud.

But it wasn’t long before a loud yelp broke the air.

Hermione spun around to see Neville’s broom bucking wildly beneath him. He was fighting to control it, but the broom seemed intent on throwing him off. It shot up into the air, reaching the five-meter limit before it stopped—only to veer sideways, sending Neville hurtling toward the stands.

“Mr. Longbottom, come back down!” Madam Hooch ordered, but Neville was completely out of control. With a final, wild buck, he was sent spiralling off to the side, landing in the stands with a thud. The sound of his cry of pain had everyone on edge.

Madam Hooch rushed to him, helped him to his feet, and summoned her wand to heal his arm, which had likely been sprained in the fall. "A sprained wrist," she confirmed, before fashioning a quick sling for Neville and asking Blaise Zabini to fetch his broom. “All of you are to go up to the Great Hall for the remainder of the lesson whilst I take Mr Longbottom to the Hospital Wing.”

The rest of the class was dismissed, and they trudged back toward the castle. As they walked, Draco’s laughter rang out ahead, mocking Neville’s fall, which sparked a flare of anger in Hermione. She almost marched up to him, ready to give him a piece of her mind, but Adeline’s firm grip on her arm stopped her.

“He’s not worth it,” Adeline said quietly.

Harry, however, seemed more than happy to take up the cause, and soon enough, he and Draco were engaged in a heated argument all the way back to the castle. Their shouting caught the attention of Professor McGonagall, who appeared just in time to intervene. She did not take kindly to such behaviour, and after a stern reprimand, both Draco and Harry were sent to their respective tables, each having lost twenty points for their houses.

“Serves them right for acting like children,” Adeline huffed as they entered the Great Hall.

Hermione, still fuming slightly, couldn't help but smile at her friend’s words. “We are children,” she pointed out, and Adeline shot her a wry grin as they sat down to dinner.

The week may have been exhausting, but with each passing day, Hermione felt more at home in this new life she was building at Hogwarts.