They were all crossing the wooden bridge over the creek, the clear water burbling merrily in the spring melt, when Bea said, "Look there! Do you suppose Professor Lupin knows that a big black dog is following him across the street?"
"He's going to the Three Broomsticks," Felix said, and laughed when he saw the dog nip at Lupin's heels in the tavern doorway.
"There's Harry Potter and his two chums," said Cass, who was a little ahead of Giselle, she and Lori. These two had a secret crush on Harry, or, anyway, they believed it to be a secret. But Giselle was quite sure of it.
She saw now how they frowned and sucked in their cheeks at sight of Hermione putting an arm across Harry's shoulders and whispering something to him, there, outside Honeydukes. Well, that didn't bother Giselle any. She wanted to get Ron alone and ask him about his brother Charlie, the dragon tamer.
It had been over a week, more like a week and a half, since last she received a letter from him. Something about going to Transylvania to see if it really was true that a vampire dragon was seen lurking about a wizarding town.
But even thoughts of Charlie Weasley could not clear her mind of that strange green glow on her palm. The color had quickly faded, but there was still a slight tingle in her hand. It didn't help that Auntie was nowhere to be seen. She apparently did not go to the Quidditch matches. What would Auntie think about all this?
Giselle lagged behind her friends and team mates, her thoughts dwelling on all the presents she got at breakfast. This brightened her heart for a time, thinking of what nice friends she had and the funny stuff they had given her.
Too, there was the bookbag that came with the owl deliveries, that Marsha sent. It was the color of the Hufflepuff logo, with a cute badger on the back riding a broom. Well, so much for the Befriendly version. She decided that it could just stay there forever in the stadium bleachers. There was obviously something very weird and scary about it, and the fact that Hermione had seemed to disappear, leaving the bag behind, made it even worse.
'But I'm not to say a word about this to Hermione,' she reminded herself. Auntie had been quite adamant that nothing of these troubling events should be said to anyone, and especially not to Hermione.
Herman, walking alongside his girlfriend Heloise, looked back at Giselle with a concerned expression. He was a very sensitive person, as most Hufflepuffs were, and Giselle, giving him a smile, felt that if she could discuss her trouble with just one student, it would be Herman.
She hurried her pace, catching up with the others. Really, it was such a beautiful day. The trees were putting out green buds. Robins and bluejays were singing. The pleasant crowds and the horse-drawn carriages made for a festive air. The mountains were purple and their snow was glistening in the sun. The conical towers of Hogwarts castle tickled the blue sky.
What fun the party was going to be!
The Genealogy Department was located in a dungeon-like room. There were rows of tables with crystal balls, inkwells and quills, and a servant elf named Pinky who brought in trays of drinks and snacks for the witches and wizards seated at the tables, poring over stacks of parchments and peering into the crystals in hopes of finding something useful about the persons they were investigating.
Professor McGonagall sat at a table in a corner, near a bronze statue of Emericus, the wizard who invented the Quixotic Quill that writes in a ledger the names of newborns who have magical blood. Emericus set up the Genealogy Department in 1663. It was rumored that he knew just about everything of just about everyone.
McGonagall had gone through Hermione Granger's family tree name by name, following all the numerous branches. The names of magic relatives were in bold print. She was looking for a Slytherin relative, also any Durmstrang connections and anything that pointed to the other schools of dark arts.
Finally she came across the name of a wizard who was distantly related to Hermione's muggle mother.
Hellington Nestor. Graduated from Hogwarts in 1951.
Joined the Grindelwald Memorial Society in 1956.
Accusations of becoming a Death Eater in 1972 were not confirmed.
Opened an alchemy shop in Diagon Alley in 1988 and tutored squibs in hypnosis until 1997, when he closed the shop and reportedly moved to the wizarding town of Promethea in Transylvania.
Special abilities: parseltongue, levitation, mind-meld with wolves and bats, dragon taming.
Current activities are not known.
McGonagall had no other leads to go on. It was Hellington, or no one. But what exactly was his connection to, or influence on, Miss Granger? If she had a propensity for the Slytherin type of personality, it would be deep in her subconscious mind, deeper even than the Sorting Hat could plumb.
If Miss Granger had indeed been cursed unknowingly by a doppleganger effect, there must be at least a drop of Hellington Nestor in her veins.
This is where the crystal ball came in handy.
McGonagall took up her wand, and in the musical scale of G-sharp minor she intoned the word "Extenuate," tapping the names of Hellington and Hermione. Then, with a nervous breath, she tapped the crystal ball.
Immediately an image began to form inside the ball. An old man with a grizzled grey beard and a dull green robe worn carelessly over a shabby suit, was sitting on a camp stool near the sidewalk that led to Public School Number 5.
Ten-year-old Hermione was coming along the sidewalk with an armful of school books. When she looked keenly at Hellington he smiled at her in a very hypnotic way. He seemed very gentle and easy-going.
Hermione stopped in front of him and smiled tentatively. She sensed that he was someone she ought to know.
"Good morning, sir," she said. "Do I know you?"
"Your mother is my cousin, twice removed. I haven't seen her since she was about your age. But she's a muggle, you know, and didn't understand what I said to her; that one day she would give birth to a magic daughter. She just laughed, you know, like I was joking. But I wasn't. And here you are, Hermione, a year away from attending Hogwarts."
Hermione furrowed her brow. "None of that makes any sense. What do you mean about Mum being a 'muggle'? It doesn't sound like a very nice word. And me, a 'magic daughter'? Whatever do you mean by that?"
Hellington chuckled. "Oh come now, you don't mean to say that you've never done anything odd? Confess now, cousin thrice removed. You have made magical things happen, quite without meaning to. You have surprised your mum and dad more than once, I'll wager."
Hermione was impressed. She didn't know him much at all, but he seemed to know her quite well. This had her heart pounding. It answered some questions that she had asked herself for years.
"I've never heard of this... Bogwarts," she said, shyly drawing a foot across the sidewalk.
"HOGwarts. It's a boarding school for young witches and wizards. Oh don't look so puzzled. If there are magic children, then of course there's a magic school for them. In fact, seven of your ancestors attended Hogwarts, not counting myself. Three were in Gryffindor House, three in Ravenclaw, and one in Hufflepuff." He shook his head sadly. "I'm your only relative that was a Slytherin House student. Such a shame, but then, you might qualify for Slytherin if... Oh, there you go looking puzzled again."
"Mum and Dad have never told me anything about going to a magic school. Are you sure you're not mistaken?"
Hellington chuckled again. He took a sheaf of parchment from his robe pocket and handed it to her. It was the usual letter from Hogwarts inviting one to attend the school. "Read that. It explains a few things."
Hermione did so. Her eyes grew big as her mouth fell open. She read it twice more.
"Is this for me?"
"You'll be getting a letter just like that one on your eleventh birthday. Won't be long, you know. Just three more months. And a representative from Hogwarts will visit with your parents, since they're muggles and will not have heard of the magic school. We don't want them to be as puzzled as you've been, eh? But, Hermione. There's more to tell."
"What's that?" she asked, reluctantly handing him back the letter.
Hellington was thoughtful for a moment, folding the parchment and slipping it back in his robe pocket. Then he winked at her and smiled broadly.
"In a little over three years there will be a green star shining next to a full moon. Muggles can't see the green color. Only we magic folk can. It is a prophetic star, you know. It predicts the coming of a descendent of the first great wizard, Merlin. We call it the 'Heir of..." But he didn't finish. He rubbed his mouth and mumbled under his breath, as though chastising himself.
"No," he continued in a subdued tone. "You're a straightforward young lady. Brave and clever. I'm quite sure you'll be sorted into Gryffindor. It's going to have to be that small part of you, that very small part deep inside you, that's more green than gold. It'll be that small part that will assist the unveiling of the Heir."
He chuckled then at Hermione's puzzled look.
"Better be off, now, or you'll be late for school."
"Yes... But you haven't told me your name."
"No, I haven't," he said, and vanished with a rather loud pop! that had Hermione dropping her books.
McGonagall sat back in her chair, drumming her fingers on the armrests.
"Crackers and pumpkin juice, ma'am?" asked Pinky.
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