Not A Wizard
Severus looked up at Minerva and handed her the final receipt, “I must say that I will not miss these transactions.”
“Is it my sparkling personality?”
“Quite honestly, the entire ruling was sickening,” Severus said, “Though I am pleased that Miss Granger has found her way out of it.”
Minerva nodded, “As am I. Thank you, Severus.”
He nodded and she left his office. When she entered her office, she nearly had a heart attack. Hermione lay sprawled across the low couch asleep. Her clothes were tattered and dirty, but she seemed unharmed otherwise.
“Hermione?”
The young woman groaned and turned over looking up at Minerva. Slowly, her eyes cleared and recognized her. She smiled.
“I made it,” she whispered.
“Dear child, what happened to you?”
“Long story,” she said, “Sleep now.”
Minerva would have said something, but Hermione fell back to sleep as if she had only had enough energy to confirm that she was safe. With a sigh, Minerva grabbed a blanket and draped it over her, hoping that she’d get something like an answer sooner rather than later.
Hermione woke up long after the sun had set. Minerva was sitting at her desk working as she sat up and groaned. Her head was pounding, her body aching, but that was nothing compared to the spike of terror that stabbed through her.
“Oh Merlin,” she groaned.
“So glad you’ve returned to the land of the living,” Minerva said, “The next time you’d like to give me a heart attack at least wait until all of my and your affairs are in order.”
She chuckled and swung her legs over the edge of the couch.
“How long have I been gone?”
“Several weeks,” she replied, “As you requested, I paid off your debt. You’re officially free of the Malfoys. Care for something to eat?”
She grimaced at the thought of food as her stomach roiled, “Maybe just some tea.”
Minerva flicked her wand and a teapot poured a cup of tea. The cup floated into her hands delightfully warm. She took a deep breath and sighed into it.
“Where would you like to start?” Minerva asked.
Hermione sipped slowly and looked across the room to the calendar. She had been gone three weeks and four days to be exact though she could have sworn it had been no longer than two weeks.
Maybe time moved differently in Marvolo. She shuddered and hung her head.
“There is so much that I want to tell you and count. Just know that I’m activating that clause.”
Minerva’s eyes widened, “Whatever for?”
Hermione finished the cup and looked at her, “The source of my magic might not be as simple as one first hoped.”
“This is about your mother.”
“Yes,” she said, “I met my grandmother and my great grandmothers, and learned quite a lot more than I had anticipated. Before all that, I have to clean up a very large mess I’ve made.”
She finished the tea and stood with a stretch.
“I need a bath, a bed, and several hours to sleep and do research.”
Minerva sighed, “I take it that is all that I’m going to get out of you for a good reason.”
“More than a good reason,” Hermione said and frowned looking back at her, “In fact, you never saw me.”
“What?”
She narrowed her eyes and focused drawing that tingling to her voice as she looked at Minerva.
“You haven’t seen me since I departed several weeks ago. As agreed before I left, you are the acting owner and steward of Grander Enterprises.”
Minerva’s eyes grew dazed as Hermione cleaned the cup and set it back on the tray undisturbed. She returned the blanket to the appropriate place and erased all trace of her ever being in the office before stepping into the apparition corridor and arriving back on the Granger Estate.
The house looked empty at the distance but she approached it slowly regardless.
To her relief, it was as empty as it appeared. She took a bath, changed for bed and crawled into bed.
Rest is short and fitful. The urgency of the situation drew her out of bed and down the hall to her mother’s personal library. She didn’t enter it often and she didn’t remember Selena spending much time in it, but she remembered all of the books that were there.
At least one of them had to have answers of how to undo a siren’s order of the magnitude she’d given Viktor the last time they’d seen one another.
In the end, she finds only that her mother’s collection included every scrap of mythology on sirens from Espirit that she could manage and a few magic tomes about warding a property for protection and disillusionment.
She tested some of the spells and found their anchors around the estate and watched the entire estate recede behind a strangely familiar barrier.
So that’s how we survived the war, she thought.
Maybe the ward was only structured to last so long as her father owned the estate. With Hermione now able to reactivate the wards, at the very least if something happened to her, she could be assured that the estate would remain standing.
Now if I could just get the rest of my life not to crumble, that would be great.
*
Viktor opened the letter and read through it. There were a million and three reasons it was probably a bad idea, especially given the timing of him returning from Marvolo all but empty-handed, but he grabbed his broom and flew to the Blood Garden regardless.
The Blood Garden was an almost sacred landmark of Surtse and the four kingdoms. During the Blood Wars, it was established as the meeting place that born wizards could meet without fear of being overheard or watched as only born wizards could enter the garden. The Courtyard of magic at the center of the garden was large enough to hold every pureblood wizard at the time and warded strong enough that if anyone who was not a born wizard attempted to enter they’d burn.
No harm could be done or suffered within the courtyard. He hoped whoever sent him the letter had planned to meet him within it to assuage any suspicion.
After all, if someone kidnapped him now, they could start another war.
He landed in the center of the courtyard and looked around.
“Hello?”
A figure stood up from the other side of the barrier. He couldn’t see much but waited patiently.
“Viktor Krum of Surtse,” a voice that was strangely familiar. too familiar and dazzling like a warm hand on the back of his neck and something gripping his heart, “Heir to the throne, you will remember my order to forget and all that you have forgotten on my order.”
He frowned, swooning as something appeared in his mind. There had been an alley and the woman from the ball somewhere far away from Surtse. The wind on his face, the scent of sweat and her bright brown eyes looking up at him fearfully.
You will pursue me no further. Now go.
He shook his head free of the memory, “It’s you. You’re my Dragonheart. Why did you run from me?”
Something is wrong, he thought as his mind cleared and the rest of the memory resurfaced.
He frowned, “Why are you over there?”
She lifted her hand and held it close to the edge of the placed it against the solid barrier and his eyes widened. The Courtyard of Magic was accessible to every witch and wizard so long as their magic came purely from a wizarding line. it was once a place to hold counsel among the three countries against Marvolo.
"You're not a wizard," Viktor said in horror.
"Does that answer your question?”
"This isn’t possible. How did you get to the ball?" Viktor said, "You shouldn't have even been there!"
Beyond the shadow of her hood, he couldn’t make out her expression, but he knew his own was somewhere in between horrified and furious. There was no way that a Muggle-born wizard, an improbable occurrence in itself, was also a Dragonheart. Magic simply didn’t work that way.
Furthermore, there was no way that she should have been extended an invitation to the ball Only pureblood wizarding families were allowed to put forth marriage candidates. It had always been that way and that ball was nothing if not a means to marriage. His mother would have been selective about who she chose to invite.
"Improbable. Undesirable even, but it is the truth, and I was given an invitation as the owner of Granger Enterprises and Secrets of Telos.”
He groaned. Of course, she had a merchant’s invitation. It made sense given the way she worked the crowd.
He shook his head, “This doesn’t make any sense.”
“I told you that it would do no good--"
"You cannot expect me to let this go! You are my dragon heart by some twist of fate. There has to be something--"
"There isn't," she said calmly. "Try not to lose sleep about it. Pray you drop this now before anything else--"
“Drop this?” he sneered, “You expect me to drop this? I am a prince of Surtse, a hero of all wizarding kind and I am fated to be with you. In spite of the years of--”
“I did not ask for it,” she hissed at him, “I asked for this no more than you did, Viktor, so do not play the victim. Grow up; it is is not the end of the world. Dragonhearts all over the world are separated by time, distance, death, and circumstances.”
He shut his mouth.
“I don’t like the idea of it any more than you and I have a lot more riding on this than you, so go home Viktor. Go home and let your mother set you up with some nice pureblood noble. Get married, have a future and forget me.”
“Is that an order?” he hissed, “You seem well-versed in mind control.”
She scoffed, “Unbelievable.”
She turned and he flew after her, “I’m not done!”
She vanished in a gust of wind and a pop before he could reach her and he grit his teeth.
“This isn’t over,” he growled, “It can’t be over.”
While what she said was true, it was easier said than done. It was a fate perhaps worse than death to be separated from your Dragonheart by anything other than death once you met them. The idea of living to the end of his days apart from her made his chest tight and his heart weary. He sank down on a bench, hung his head and let the burning in his soul well up and overflow.
She was his Dragonheart, a Muggle-born wizard or worse, and there was nothing he could do.