Welcome, Hermione
Thanks for all the reviews.
I was going to kill her off, but my muse took over and here we are. I swear I had written the sentence out and then backspaced and next thing I know the chapter was written. Silly muse.
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There was a committee formed and it was established that there was magic that was better than electricity in making computers run in a magical environment. It worked like a generator to charge the machines. It worked with a rune sequence, that the Department of Mysteries thought up. They had been working on it far longer than Vic had been in office, now they could use it.
It would make it so that lines didn’t need to be run in the Ministry and they could use the computers. That way the Minister could have his contraption and they didn’t have to break the Statute by desecrating the building. So far, he was the only one using one, along with a fax machine and a printer. His secretary was so jealous.
However, it was the internet that was the problem. It still needed to be wired in. That was going to be in issue. The phonelines could take care of that, but they were slow and cumbersome. There were faster avenues, but they needed to be added. It was all still being debated. That and the cost was a concern as well. Until then Vic was using Dial-up services.
Vic was sitting with his souped-up laptop and going over some paperwork for the PM, when Amelia came storming in his office. She did not look like she was in a good mood. “Amelia,” he said, cautiously.
“Pettigrew is dead,” she said without preamble. She took a chair and slumped down like the weight of the world was on her shoulders.
“What? How?” he demanded, getting up from his chair and going to his bar and pouring her a drink. She looked like she could use a stiff one.
“I don’t know. I was questioning him about the Mark, and he just keeled over,” she said, frustrated beyond belief. “There must have been a curse on such questioning,” she said, going over the ramifications. They had never had a reason to ask anyone about the Mark before, not under Veritaserum.
“Dammit,” Vic said, pouring himself a drink. On one hand, he was glad the man was dead. On the other, this let those bastards stay free. “This means you can’t question those in Azkaban either,” he said, running his hand over his face.
“Probably not,” she said, downing her drink and shaking her head when he offered her a refill. He capped the bottle and put it away.
“Well, we can still try him posthumously. You have his confession,” the minister said, settling in his chair. He downed his drink and put his empty glass down and grimaced at the taste. A puff of smoke escaped his mouth as he breathed out.
“Yes,” she agreed, then changed the subject. “I’ve talked to Alastor. He’s agreed to talk to you. Do you want to meet at your house?” she asked, knowing that he didn’t want to meet here.
“Yeah,” Potter said, going over his busy schedule. “I have some time Saturday around one in the afternoon. I have to meet my new bodyguard at noon,” he stated, a smile played at his lips.
“You’re getting a bodyguard?” she asked, wondering why he didn’t just use the Aurors like his predecessors. She posed the question. “Why? I can assign you some from my men,” she offered, thinking on who she could post to the job.
“I don’t trust all of them,” he told her bluntly. “I know most of them are on the up and up, but you still have a few bigots on your payroll and I’m a half-blood,” he stated, giving her a pointed look. “I can name at least three that have given me a hard time since I have taken office,” he said, tapping his finger on his desk.
She shrugged. He was correct, there were some that wanted this man out of office due to his background and the changes he was making. True he was the only one with a computer in his office, but that might change. She was thinking of getting one herself. She had seen how useful they were.
Right now, she could see his neatly typed up reports on his desk and would kill to have a laptop and printer in her hands. She had a typewriter, but it was burdensome. There was no room for error. If you messed up, you had to start over. Well, there were spells to erase the words, but they usually wound up erasing more than one.
“Okay, you meet your bodyguard, and I’ll let Alastor know to be there,” she said, getting up and going to the door. “Thanks for settling the gossip down,” she added as she left. It hadn’t stopped all the gossip, but they weren’t using all the lines anymore.
“You’re welcome,” he said to the closing door. He went back to work and contemplated on what to do about Malfoy now. He had been so looking forward to nabbing him and his cronies. Now they were back to square one.
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It was Friday, and Harry was in his normal studies class going over math when he felt a shiver go down his spine. It was like he was supposed to be doing something, but fate had changed, and he wasn’t doing it. It was important, but now it was different. It was Halloween day, and this had always been a hard time for him. Usually, he and Uncle Vic would sit and talk about his parents and just contemplate how life would be if they had lived.
Today felt different though, like the whole world had shifted because he turned right instead of left. It was like reality was twisted.
“Mr. Potter, are you listening to me?” his tutor, Mr. Leffen, asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. He was a tallish man, blonde, with blue eyes. He was a nice man, that looked like a librarian, with glasses and all.
“Sorry, Mr. Leffen, someone walked over my grave,” Harry said, blinking at the man. He smiled in an apologetic way.
“I get that this is a trying day for you, but try to concentrate,” the man said, a kind smile on his face. He patted the boy’s head and moved on to the next math equation.
“Yes, sir,” the preteen said, doing his best to do the problems without his mind drifting to why he felt the fate of the world was in his hands and he wasn’t there to catch it.
That night he and his Uncle Pads spent the night as they normally did, but Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something that he was supposed to be doing.
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The next day in the Daily Prophet there was an article about the maiming of a Hogwarts’ student via a troll. She had been rushed in critical condition to St. Mungo’s the night before. There wasn’t a clear reason given as to why the troll was in the castle, but it had gotten in and hurt the first year Gryffindor child badly. She was a muggleborn and was more than likely going to leave the magical world, according to her parents.
The students interviewed didn’t have anything nice to say about the girl. They were all petty and cruel. Some even went as far as to say the girl deserved to get hurt for being nosy. Some of the teachers weren’t much better. To say the least, the girl was not well liked at Hogwarts. Only McGonagall and Dumbledore seemed to have any redeeming things to say about her.
“Uncle Pads, we’ve got to help this girl,” Harry said as they finished reading the article. They were sitting to breakfast, which was simply oatmeal and fruit this morning. Seeing that it was Saturday, and they were both supposed to be busy today. Vic had two appointments that he could not break. However, Harry felt the overwhelming need to reach out and help this family.
“Why?” the minister asked. While he felt bad for the family, he didn’t understand why the boy said that.
“Call it a gut feeling,” the preteen said, picking at his meal. “I had a bad feeling yesterday in class, and now I know why. It was like someone was telling me that fate had been changed,” he said, trying to describe something he didn’t understand himself.
“What do you want to do?” his uncle asked, not sure how they could help them. The parents seem hellbent on leaving the magical world. He wasn’t sure there was anything they could do.
“Invite her to join me,” Harry suggested. “We can sweeten the pot by offering non-magical studies. We’ll make sure not to offer it as charity. I’m sure they’d hate that,” he finished and started eating his porridge with gusto.
“Alright,” Vic said, and after breakfast they went to talk to the two distraught parents. It was early enough to get this done and still make his appointments.
It only took a moment to get into St. Mungo’s. All they had to do was say they were visiting and announce who they were. Being celebrities, it was simple. They were let right in by first the mannequin in the window, and then the welcoming nurse.
“Mr. and Mrs. Granger,” Vic said to them as he approached them in the hospital waiting room. It was a plain room with chairs and some tables that were littered with magazines. There were three other families there, so he kept his voice low. “I’m the Minister of Magic, Vic Potter,” he stated, holding out his hand.
The other families looked at the two of them with awe but kept their distance. They had their own worries.
“I’d say we’re pleased to meet you, but…” Mr. Granger said, shaking his hand, but his face was very angry. He had been given the cold shoulder all night long. The nurses had simply shoved him and his wife in this room and told them to wait. They hadn’t even told him much about his daughter’s condition other than that they had almost lost her once last night. That was it. They had been worried sick ever since.
“I understand. Well, I probably don’t completely understand, but I hope I can commiserate. This is my nephew, Harry,” Vic said, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder and nudging him forward. “He would like to meet your daughter,” he said, giving them an encouraging smile.
“To what point?” Mrs. Granger asked, though she did smile at Harry. “We’re going to take Hermione out of this dangerous world as soon as we can,” she stated, wringing her hands. She, like her husband, had been at her wit’s end all night long. She was hanging on by a thin line. She could snap at any moment.
“I’d like to offer you a different solution,” the minister said, holding up his hands in a ‘hear me out’ gesture. “Harry here, is homeschooled. He is doing both non-magical and magical studies. I would offer your daughter to join him,” he offered, hoping they took him up on it. Now that he had time to think about it, Harry could use some companionship.
“Why? Why Hermione? You don’t even know her,” Mr. Granger stated, narrowing his eyes in distrust. People didn’t just make offers like this out of the kindness of their hearts. There had to be a catch.
“Because of what happened to her,” Vic told them truthfully. “No one should have gone through that. I heard how she was treated at Hogwarts. It came out in the paper. Shunned for being smart and treated like a know-it-all. Harry is pretty smart to and if he had gone to Hogwarts, he would have suffered much the same,” he added, clapping the boy on the shoulder. He was doubly glad that Harry decided to be homeschooled.
“At least you’re honest,” grumbled Mr. Granger. Too many politicians were out for numero uno. Well, at least this one was protecting his nephew as well. It would remain to be seen what else the man wanted.
“I try to be,” Vic said, gesturing to the chairs so they could get more comfortable. “Harry has no friends his age. I am hoping that Hermione can be one of them.” That might not come to pass, but they might get along well enough to be cordial to one another. That might be enough.
The other families were trying to eavesdrop, they had only heard bits and pieces up to now, but Vic put up a bubble to stave that off. They looked disappointed, but then went back to talking to each other.
“Hermione doesn’t have any friends either,” Mrs. Granger said regretfully. “She has a bit of a bossy attitude,” she confessed softly, like it was a hard thing to do. No mother liked to point out their child’s faults.
“How much will this tutelage cost, Minister Potter?” Mr. Granger asked, worried about his pocketbook. He really didn’t want to take Hermione’s magic away. She was so proud of being a witch. When they had gotten the letter, they thought it was a cruel joke. When that McGonagall woman showed them it wasn’t, Hermione had been over the moon. Finally, an explanation for all the strange things that happened around her.
She had practiced with her wand for hours a day, trying to prove that she would be the best witch she could be. She learned her books inside and out during the month she had them before the train left. They had been so proud of her. Now…
“Please, call me Vic. It will cost around £150 a month. That includes the magical studies,” Vic stated, converting the galleons into pounds. He felt that was a reasonable amount. He didn’t know the current rate of tuition for public schools, so he was just guessing.
“That’s not bad. Less than a public school. Call me Dan, and this is Emma,” the now call Dan said, pointing to his wife. Still, it was more than Hogwarts, where all they had had to pay for was the books and equipment. They were well-to-do though as prominent dentists and could afford it. “Where will they be learning?” he asked wondering if they would be going to a classroom or learning at the man’s house.
“My house. I’ll take you there when you’re done here. Hermione should be let go today. Magic is a wonderful thing, and the healers here are topnotch,” he said, looking to the double doors as if they would emit a healer any moment.
“If you say so,” Emma said, her hands started fretting again. She was very concerned about her daughter's health. They had told her last night that it had been touch and go for a while. Hermione was a delicate child, always staying inside instead of playing outside. She never toughened herself up by roughhousing with other children.
“Trust me,” Vic said, crossing his legs like he believed what he said, and relaxing in for the wait for good news.
Harry got up and started roaming the room to relieve the boredom. He didn’t like waiting for anything. He sent a few cleaning charms for the dust under the chairs, but other than that couldn’t find anything else to do. There was no telly here and all the magazines were geared towards adults. Heck, there wasn’t even a wizarding wireless. The least they could do, was have some music for those waiting.
Around an hour later, someone finally came. “Mr. and Mrs. Granger, your daughter can go home now,” the nurse said in short, clipped words.
“Thank you,” Dan replied just as abruptly. He was quite used to the staff here treating him like he was less than human.
“How can she be ready to go home? She was in critical condition last night?” Emma asked.
“Magic,” Vic said from behind her, calming the woman down. “Magic can cure many things,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.
“Really,” the nurse said, snidely.
Vic glared at the woman, who upon recognizing him, blushed.
“Mr. Minister, I didn’t see you there,” she stuttered out, fussing with her clipboard. “What can I do for you?” she asked, her entire demeanor changing.
“I’m here for Hermione Granger,” he stated in a cold tone, snatching the clipboard from her weak hands. He read it for the room number, and then thrust it back at her.
She fumbled with it, not understanding why the most powerful man in Britain would want with a lowly muggleborn first year student. “Oh,” she said, not sure what to say to that. “Well, um, she’s ready to go,” she finished lamely.
“Thank you,” he said, leading the group to Hermione’s room. It was only down the hallway a bit. Just past the nurses’ station.
Hermione Granger was sitting on her bed looking forlorn. Her normally frizzy hair was lank and stringy, though still curly just in limp waves. She was crying, almost inconsolable. She had been treated rather poorly by the staff here. Her wounds had been healed, but they seemed to do it reluctantly. Like they were fulfilling their oaths, but only just.
They called her some names that she didn’t understand, but she didn’t like. She was sure they weren’t malicious; these were professionals after all, but they weren’t nice either. They weren’t the hateful names the kids at Hogwarts called her, like bookworm, know-it-all, and nightmare. Still, one man called her a mudblood and she didn’t know what that was. And the way the nurse shushed him, she didn’t think it was appropriate.
“Hermione!” her mother called as she rushed into the room. Her mother ran to her and hugged her tightly. She could see that Hermione was indeed healthy and whole.
“Mum,” the child replied, her heart soaring seeing her mum coming towards her. Safe in her mum’s arms, she felt loads better. Now she could go home. She never wanted to see the castle in the mountains again. She was heartbroken at the thought of giving up magic, but if she ever saw Ronald Weasley again it would be too soon.
She glanced over her mum’s shoulder and saw her dad, and two other people. A man and a young boy. She stiffened at the sight of the boy. She didn’t have a good history with children her age.
“Hermione?” her mum questioned, at her sudden change in posture.
“Who is that?” the girl asked, pointing to the two strangers.
“This is the Minister of Magic, Vic Potter, and his nephew, Harry Potter,” Dan said, coming and claiming his own hug from his daughter.
“You’re Harry Potter?” Hermione exclaimed, suddenly excited as she returned her father’s hug. “I’ve read all about you,” she said, releasing her dad and looking at the celebrity in her room.
“Can we take this elsewhere?” Harry asked, not wanting to make a scene in the hospital.
“Yes,” Vic agreed. “We can either go to a restaurant, or back to our place, or even your house. The choice is yours. I’d rather go to mine. I have appointments I can’t break, still… However, I’d like to continue our conversation. We can continue tomorrow if you’d rather,” he said, giving them a pointed look. He looked around the room like there might be bugs or listening charms. That and anyone could walk in.
The Grangers seemed to get the gist and nodded. They gathered up Hermione and all her belongings, which the staff of Hogwarts brought when they demanded them last night. Vic waved his wand and shrunk them. He then placed them in Emma’s purse and gestured for them to lead the way.
They made their way to the entrance and decided to go to the Potters’ house this morning. It was the most secure and they wanted to get it out of the way now. Just for kicks, the Potters introduced the Grangers to the Knight Bus, after Vic shrunk their car and stuck it in Emma’s purse too.
“That was an experience,” Emma said, holding her tummy to fight off the queasiness. She had never been so scared in her life. Dan and Hermione seemed to have enjoyed the ride though.
“That is a polite way to put it,” Vic agreed, leading them into the house and then to the study. “Meet our Uncle Arcturus,” he said, introducing the painting, much to the confusion of the muggles.
“Well met,” Arcturus said, making them jump a bit.
Hermione giggled at her parents’ reaction. Harry giggled too, while Vic just chuckled a bit. He hid his chuckle behind his hand and gestured for them to enter.
“That’s not funny, young lady,” her mum scolded.
“It kind of is,” Dan disagreed, chuckling along with the rest of the group and nodding to the painting. “Nice to meet you, sir,” he said to the man.
“Yes,” Emma said, giving the portrait a wary look.
“Would you care for a drink?” Vic asked, waving to them to take a seat. They all settled into chairs or the sofa, in the case of the Grangers. He snapped his fingers and Tibbers appeared, making all the Grangers jump. This time only Harry giggled.
“What can Tibbers bes doing for yous today?” the elf asked, looking around the room at the guests. He could tell they were muggles by their clothes. He was unsure as to how to react, so he kept his eyes trained on Vic.
“Whatever they’d like to drink,” Vic said, waving to the shocked family.
The elf turned an inquiring eye to them, keeping his face dutifully blank.
“Um, tea is fine,” Dan said, still giving the elf a wide-eyed look.
“A fizzy drink, please,” Hermione said, then added, “Orange.”
“Oh, me too, please,” Harry said, bouncing a bit. He loved orange fizzy drinks.
“Tea,” squeaked Emma. Her eyes were just as wide as her husband’s.
“Tea for me too,” Vic said, and the elf popped away to get the required drinks.
“What was that?” Dan finally got out. He knew that there were creatures in the magical world that he had never heard of, Hermione had been hurt by a troll after all, but this was the first time he’d seen one.
“A servant,” Vic said, not wanting to get into the whole ‘are they slaves’ debate. “Let’s talk about Hermione’s schooling,” he said, diverting the topic as quickly as possible.
“This is where she’d learn?” Emma asked, looking around the well-appointed room. There didn’t seem to be a desk here.
“No, in the library,” Vic said, waving to the door on the far wall.
“And you say she’ll learn normal studies?” Dan asked, looking at Hermione to see how she was taking them talking about her.
She seemed enthralled. She was bouncing in her seat, ecstatic that she didn’t have to give up her magic. Her eyes were twinkling, and her frizzy hair was fluffed out as far as it would go.
“Yup,” Harry said, smiling like a cat that ate the canary. “I even have a computer.” While they were quickly becoming a household name, they were still not in every home.
“You do?” Hermione asked, jumping up and all but ready to run to the library. She had one at home, but she was always ready to see another one. She had to share hers with her parents.
“Yeah, do you want to see it?” he asked, getting up to go and show her.
“Yes, please,” she said, going and grabbing his hand.
“Uncle Pads?”
“Go ahead,” his uncle said, waving the kids off.
The two kids ran off to cruise the net, while the adults talked.
“So, how does Hermione know who Harry is?” Dan asked just as a tea service appeared in front of them. Emma started pouring for everyone, asking how Vic liked his tea. They all took up their cups and started talking.
Vic told them the story about the Boy-Who-Lived and how much of it was hooey and how much was real. There was a whole line of fictional bullshit and all that too. They nodded in understanding and were soon talking about the kids’ schooling.
Hermione would be joining Harry that coming Monday. She would be taking the Knight Bus to and from the Potters’. She would not be joining him for his spy classes, but that was okay. She didn’t even know about them. Neither did the Grangers.
The Grangers left around eleven thirty, and Vic got ready for his two appointments. Harry went to his spy classes. He was late for them and would be staying there late to make up for the time. He had called in this morning to let them know that there had been an emergency, and they changed the time.
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The meeting between John Stances and Vic went well. The minister now had a bodyguard and a very paranoid one at that. So, it was no surprise that his new bodyguard and Mad-eye Moody got on like a house on fire.