The Price
Her grandfather had always been a bit…eccentric. A pawnbroker who also sourced antiquities with a love of convoluted contracts. She got the impression that he had his fingers in a lot of pies. His name was spoken with a hint of awe amongst those who knew him, many of them also had a tinge of fear.
He was still her favourite person. Her father disapproved of him immensely but Hermione had adored him for as long as she could remember. When she was tiny she was convinced he could do real magic, although her father said it was sleight of hand, not willing to let her continue her delusions. She knew he was wrong though. Her grandfather's face the first time she summoned a book in his presence was a memory that would stay with her as long as she lived. His face had lit up and he had twirled her around until she was breathless and giggling. The next day, he sat her down and urged her to have caution.
“All magic comes with a price, dearie.” he warned, “Some big, some small, but you must always be willing to pay the price.”
She had nodded solemnly, not understanding what he meant. It was advice he repeated more than once over the years. Now, seven years after her introduction to the wizarding world, she finally understood.
Hogwarts lay in ruins at her feet, the bodies of classmates and friends lay in the great hall. Evil had been defeated but magic had taken its price. She knew now that she in no way had been ready for the cost.
Eyes blew wide around her, the Weaselys startled momentarily out of their grief as a man in three piece suit, strode through the hall, balancing on his cane.
“It's time to come home, dearie.” he murmured, “Magic has taken its price.”
She nodded slowly, catching the look of genuine horror on Professor McGonagall's face.
“Rumpelstiltskin.” she hissed.
Her grandfather’s eyebrows rose. “I’m just here for my granddaughter.” he murmured, “Hasn’t she given enough?”
Slack-jawed, Minerva could only gape as he took Hermione's arm and disappeared.
Staring at her grandfather, Hermione arched a brow. “Rumpelstiltskin?”
“At your service, dearie,” he smirked giving her a sarcastic bow. His face turned serious as he rose again, “Are you ready to learn the family magic granddaughter?”
She took a deep breath, “I’m willing to learn whatever you wish to teach me.”
A slow smile travelled over his face. “Then let us discuss contracts, they really are a work of art.”