A cold winter breeze blew through the window from time to time, making the students shiver. Minerva McGonagall was discussing an important topic. Hermione, as always, listened attentively and took notes on a scroll, while Harry and Ron were bored, passing each other pieces of paper with funny faces drawn on them. The rest listened as best they could. Among the Slytherins, Granger noticed out of the corner of her eye that Draco was also pensively writing something in his notebook.
McGonagall, as always, dryly explained the theory: "Polymorphism is a type of complete transfiguration, the transformation of an inanimate object into a living one or, conversely, a living object into an inanimate one. Polymorphism is a complex process for both the magician and the objects of his influence. As everyone already knows, all living objects are inherently heterogeneous in nature, but inanimate objects can be either homogeneous or heterogeneous. In order to understand the types of polymorphism, you need to know that...", at that moment, a glowing patronus suddenly seeped through the wall and flew up to Minerva, whispering something in her ear.
The dean blinked in surprise, but then found Hermione and asked her to come forward.
"Miss Granger," she began dryly, "Headmaster Dumbledore is calling for you. Go see him right now. The password is 'marmalade buttons,'" she whispered the last phrase.
Hermione quickly gathered her things and went to the headmaster's office, wondering what had happened. In the past, when she had been close friends with Harry and Ron, visits to the headmaster's office had been a regular occurrence, but this year, it was the first time she had ever been summoned.
Climbing the stairs past the gargoyle, the girl found herself in the headmaster's office. Dumbledore himself was already waiting for her, holding a scroll in his hand.
"My dear girl," Albus said, looking at her from behind his half-moon glasses. "I have received an invitation from the Ministry of Magic addressed to you, to the Department of Herms and Family Names, to see Mr. Elliot Rowley. As we are law-abiding wizards, we will go with you right now to hear what the deputy head of the department wants from you. Take the powder from the shelf, throw it into the fire and say clearly: 'Ministry of Magic'.
Hermione did as the headmaster said, and after a couple of minutes of unpleasant spinning in all directions, she was spat out into the atrium of the Ministry. Quickly cleaning herself up with magic, she stood to one side, waiting for Dumbledore.
Albus emerged from the fireplace without even staggering, glancing cheerfully at the dishevelled Hermione.
"It's all right, my girl," smiled the old man. "All wizards get a little lost at the beginning of their journeys through the fireplace network. Leaving the corridor, they immediately found themselves on the ninth floor and walked calmly past the minister's reception room and further down the corridor to the tall double doors.
Inside, they saw a typical reception room with a comfortable office sofa, flowers and a secretary's desk. A serious young woman was sitting at the desk, writing something.
"Hello, Director," the secretary smiled when she saw Albus.
"Good afternoon, Millicent, how are you?
"Thank you, Professor," the young woman rose elegantly from her desk and approached them. "I miss Hogwarts and my friends.
"Well, Hogsmeade is always ready to welcome alumni in its cafes," Dumbledore said with a sly glance at his glasses.
"Oh, I've kept you too long," the girl said, putting on a serious expression. "Mr Rowle is waiting for you, sir. Please come this way."
Dumbledore and Hermione followed him into a spacious office, where a serious, fair-haired wizard was sitting at a desk.
"Good afternoon, Headmaster Dumbledore, Miss Granger. Please come in and sit down," the man said, pointing to a comfortable sofa next to the desk.
It turned out that a request had been sent to their department from a well-known wizard asking for an investigation and the introduction of Hermione Granger into the family. Since the girl was considered Muggle-born, the headmaster of Hogwarts was her guardian. That was why there were two invitations.
"But I have parents, sir!" the Gryffindor girl protested.
"I'm sorry, Miss Granger," Rowley smiled unpleasantly, "but in the magical world, you are an orphan. Muggle parents cannot represent your interests in official institutions. These functions are performed for you, as for all other Muggle-borns, by the respected headmaster," he said, nodding towards Dumbledore.
Hermione looked at Albus in confusion.
"That's right, my girl, there's nothing to be afraid of," Dumbledore replied kindly. "It's just a formality, don't worry about it.
"Ahem..." Rowley cleared his throat after a pause. "Are you ready to undergo the kinship and ancestral gift test?"
"Yes, sir," Hermione said firmly, catching a shadow of displeasure on the headmaster's face out of the corner of her eye.
"Then please give me a little blood," the wizard said, pulling a bowl and a small dagger that looked sharp out of the table.
Hermione, not without hesitation, took the dangerous object in her hands and looked questioningly at the wizard.
"Prick your finger, Miss Granger," the official replied with a sigh. "A little blood must be spilled into the bowl."
Hermione, almost closing her eyes, pricked her finger with the dagger and immediately cried out. The artefact was clearly magical, as blood immediately flowed from the tiny wound into the bowl, but when it reached a certain limit, it stopped and the wound closed by itself.
She hesitantly handed the bowl back, and the mage took a vial of someone else's blood from his pocket and mixed it with the blood in the bowl. Then he began to wave his wand over it and mutter spells. The blood began to bubble, then divided into several fractions. Rowley began to study the contents carefully, while the pen quickly filled the parchment.
Finally, the magician looked up at the visitors, and for the first time, his expression became a little friendlier.
"Well, I can congratulate you, miss, you are indeed not a Muggle-born, but a half-blood. The test showed a complete match between your blood and that of the respected gentleman," Rowley handed her the parchment with the results.
Glancing diagonally at the writing and curiously examining the Dagwort-Granger family tree dating back to William the Conqueror, she spotted a golden thread at the very bottom running from Nicholas D'Agworth-Granger, born in 1820, to Hermione Granger, born in 1979. Between these lines were two more grey names, one of which she recognised as her father's.
"Ahem, young lady," Rowley caught her attention. "Are you ready to meet your great-grandfather?"
"Of course, sir," the girl said happily.
"Then you must sign here and here," the wizard said, pushing the documents toward her. "Here, you sign that you acknowledge that you are a resident of the magical world and not a Muggle-born. And here, you agree that guardianship will be transferred to a blood relative.
"Perhaps you shouldn't rush into this, my child," Dumbledore said gently. "You don't know this man. What if he plans to do something bad, like your guardian did?"
Hermione hesitated for a moment, but then signed both documents.
"I don't think my grandfather would hurt a nice girl like me," Hermione smiled. "Why else would he file this petition to acknowledge our relationship?
Rowley, who had been listening to the visitors' conversation, grunted contentedly.
"Then please go through that door, miss," he said, pointing to an opening in the opposite wall of the office. "Headmaster Dumbledore will accompany you. Thank you for bringing the girl to us. Her relative will take care of her from here and bring her to Hogwarts this evening."
Dumbledore twitched his cheek but, overcoming himself, said a warm goodbye to Hermione and headed for the exit. The old wizard's mind was filled with thoughts that the discovery of a relative would disrupt some of his plans for Miss Granger. Immediately after her arrival, Albus had recognised the potential of the little Gryffindor and had begun to bring her together with his other protégés.
He ordered that a "friendship and affection potion" be added to Potter's and the Weasley family's food. He asked Minerva to pay a little more attention to the girl, and by the time she came of age, another staunch tin soldier would be ready for his invisible army of supporters. What's more, Albus even planned her marriage to Ron Weasley, as he believed that the girl would be able to create and preserve a family with a sloppy good-for-nothing.
In the headmaster's opinion, nature and mother magic had decided to take a break with this representative of the glorious red-haired family of his loyal supporters, so Ronald had no talents other than envy and quarrelsomeness. However, he became the perfect friend for Potter, reliably shielding him from anyone who wanted to befriend the national hero.
The eternal slob and bully, constantly rubbing shoulders with him, was as hard as granite in his desire to completely capture Harry's attention. And the girl had to pull them towards knowledge at least a little, so that the two good-for-nothings could pass their exams and move up to the next year. And everything was going well, right up until this year," Dumbledore grimaced. "But since autumn, the potions have stopped working for some reason. After each dose, the girl was turned inside out, no matter how much Albus demanded that Snape change the ingredients. The binding had to be temporarily suspended, awaiting a more convenient opportunity, and now this...
Albus frowned unconsciously: "I'll look in the Book of Fates today to see who Miss Granger has become. Maybe it's one of my students or supporters, and I'm worrying for nothing. Of course, if they pin the heir's artefacts on her, we can forget about the potions, but why set yourself up for the worst right away?" The wizard smiled into his beard and headed for the fireplace to return to Hogwarts.
Hermione opened the door with a trembling hand and hesitantly entered. The old wizard sitting on the sofa, dressed in a bright doublet and green robe, saw her and stood up abruptly. His stern, weather-beaten face lit up with a friendly smile. There was so much joy and hope in it that Hermione suddenly felt embarrassed.
"Hello, sir," she curtsied. "Are you my great-grandfather?"
"Yes, young lady, call me Sir Nicholas or just Grandfather," the old man smiled again, rising to his feet. "Now we'll go to Gringotts, shall we? I'll open a student vault for you, from which your tuition will be deducted. Now you are no longer a Muggle-born, and you are not subject to the law that requires the Board of Trustees to pay for your education. We must do everything properly," he continued instructively, walking alongside Hermione down the corridor. "We need to repay the money spent on your education to the people who gave it to us and transfer the fees for all your years to the Hogwarts administration. I hope," the old man looked at her sternly, "you're not planning on dropping out after your O.W.L.s? That wouldn't be right for a girl from an ancient family."
"They're offering her an education?" Hermione, for whom studying had sometimes become her whole purpose in life, nodded happily: "Of course, sir, I intend to complete the entire course and pass the O.W.L.s!"
Everything took a couple of hours at Gringotts. First, a stern goblin who introduced himself as the representative of the Daggwort-Granger family carefully examined the documents from the Ministry. Then she had to undergo another blood test. After that, they sat down on carts and rode down to the vaults, passing the "thieves' waterfall" and a dragon that was watching them closely.
Finally, when the cart stopped, Hermione saw the magical safe for the first time. In the small room, stacks of gold galleons were piled up to the ceiling, and shelves were lined with incunabula on potions and artefacts. Nicholas took an ancient-looking mahogany box and opened it solemnly:
"This is the heirloom set," he said, pointing to a set of jewellery in the box. "You have to bind it with your blood once, and then no one will be able to slip you a potion or easily read your thoughts. Of course, powerful magicians," his grandfather smiled sadly, "will still find a way, but only if they attack you openly.
"My classmate found out that I was being poisoned with some kind of potion until Christmas this year," Hermione shuddered at the memory. "It's a good thing I underwent a very serious cleansing ritual in the summer, and now no new spells can stick to me, and the old ones have been removed.
"Who would want to influence you so much?" the old man frowned. "These potions are quite expensive, otherwise everyone would be pouring them on each other.
"I don't know," Hermione shrugged, "but it's good that everything has been fine with me for over a month now.
"All right, let's figure this out," the old wizard grumbled. "Here, take this size-changing purse from your new safe. There's not much in it, only fifty thousand galleons, but it will be more than enough to last you until the end of your studies, unless, of course, you prefer to change your 'halos' every month.
"What are you talking about?" Hermione blushed. "I only went to Quidditch to support the faculty.
"We are a family of hereditary potion makers, but your gift is still dormant," the wizard said kindly, looking at her. "In the summer, we will take your training seriously. You already have a good memory, but that's not enough for a real wizard.
Finally, having settled all their business at the bank, they stepped outside and immediately plunged into the noisy atmosphere of Diagon Alley.
"I'm tired of these goblins," grumbled the old magician. "I'd like to take a break with a bowl of ice cream.
Hermione laughed cheerfully:
"Of course, Grandpa, let's go to Fortescue's, and then I'll invite you to our house. Mum and Dad should meet you. It's not every day you find relatives in the magical world.
Chatting happily, they sat down at a table in the café, and the old wizard told Hermione about the nuances of inheritance among pure-blood wizards.
It turned out that she had several options: first, she could marry any pure-blood starting from the third generation. In that case, she would have to accept him into her family as a consort. Second, she could join someone's family, but with a condition written into the marriage contract that one of her children would inherit the Dursley-Granger family name.
Hermione nodded understandingly at the explanation; everything seemed coherent and logical.
"And here," the old man handed her a pouch, "are reusable portals to my manor for you and your parents. When you arrive at the estate, I will set up permanent access protection by blood.
After finishing their ice cream, they went to visit the Grangers, where the adults, having overcome some initial awkwardness, were smiling and looking at photos in family albums within half an hour.
The old potion maker, with his vast experience, easily fit into the Granger family, and by evening it seemed to them that they had known him all along.
"Tell me, Sir Nicholas," Emma asked curiously. "Who told you that your great-granddaughter is studying at Hogwarts? Probably Headmaster Dumbledore?"
"You know, Emma," the wizard said, pursing his lips. "I don't really like this Dumbledore: he's too cunning. We old folks can see that under his rule, the quality of education for young wizards has deteriorated significantly. They've abolished many subjects that are essential for a real wizard, such as ritualistics, for example. Without rituals, a wizard of noble birth cannot live. Of course, pure-bloods learn all this at home, but the general trend is worrying.
"But I thought Dumbledore was moving the magical community forward," Emma said in surprise.
"It's a complicated question," the old man said, not wanting to elaborate. "And he told me about you, a promising young potions master named Cassius Black. I don't know how he even heard about me, although the twenty-eight oldest and most noble families have their secrets, of course, but I still don't know," he shrugged. "The boy came to visit me, and in conversation, everything just came out... and here I am, and the family has found an heir," the old man's eyes lit up with joy. "You can't imagine what it's like when, after decades of languishing, you realise that fate has given you a chance to restore your family. It's such happiness," the wizard beamed. "I will do everything in my power to ensure that Hermione finds her rightful place in magical England. And even though I am old by the standards of our world, I will certainly live to see my grandchildren, thanks to the potion master."
"And we decided that Cassius Black is also from Hogwarts," Hector said in surprise. "The guy explained everything to us in such detail that we thought he worked there and that the headmaster had asked him to come and warn us.
"Probably, Dad," Hermione pondered. "I often see Mr Black at school, but he doesn't teach. I think he's one of the organisers of the Triwizard Tournament."
That evening, as she was getting ready for bed, Hermione remembered where she knew the name Cassius from and sat up in bed. So it was Draco who had asked his relative to help find Hermione's magical relatives. He himself would hardly have bothered with the fate of a simple Muggle girl. The girl's heart suddenly warmed, and she leaned back on her pillow and fell asleep with a contented smile.
***
On the palace terrace, to the sound of the muezzin's chant, leaning on pillows scattered everywhere, the most powerful and richest wizard of glorious Marrakesh was lost in gloomy thoughts. Mahmoud Abbas Al Mansur himself married immediately after finishing school. His father found him a worthy wife, and Hassan was born into the marriage. Of course, over time, his harem grew larger, but he truly loved his eldest wife.
His son grew up to be strong and powerful, a true warrior. After school, his father assigned him the best of the best magicians, who over the past two years taught him everything a marabout should know and be able to do. Now his son could easily deal with almost any adult wizard, except for the great magicians, of course. Mahmoud Abbas did not consider himself to be one of them, although among all his acquaintances, he was known as the most powerful magician in Marrakesh. "My son has taken all the best from me," Mahmoud Abbas thought proudly, but Hassan consistently rejects all the candidates for marriage. Ma sha Allah, what has caught his eye about this fairy he met at the tournament?
"Hello, father, may you live long," Hassan greeted him. "My friend from England sent me a message inviting me to attend a tournament of three magicians and stay at his estate.
"Who is this?" Mahmoud Abbas asked curiously, looking at his son.
"We studied together in Uagadu. His name was Cassius Malfoy, but now he is the head of the Black family.
"The Blacks were very dangerous warriors," Mahmoud said thoughtfully. "I knew one of them. Pollux Black, we met in the war. He fought like a lion and always covered my back in battle against the Grindelwaldians. Is he the guy you called Chibuzo Inu's apprentice?" the wizard suddenly remembered.
"Yes, Father," Hassan beamed, "he's my friend, and even though we haven't seen each other since school, we often exchange letters and remain friends.
"Very well, Hassan, I give you my permission to go. Just don't forget your training; a warrior must always be ready for battle.
"Thank you, father," said Hassan, rising from the carpet and bowing.
"Maybe you'll meet your future wife there and finally forget that French girl," Mahmoud Abbas Al Mansur muttered under his breath.
The portal halls were as crowded as ever. Wizards flew in and out in an endless stream. Many foreign guests had arrived in England for the "Three Wizards" tournament. Nimble merchants bustled among the new arrivals, promising excursions, inexpensive hotels, or food. It seemed as if waves were rolling against the walls of the station, creating the sensation of a human tide. Those who had come to meet the arrivals huddled together in front of the exits from the transfer rooms, searching for their acquaintances in the stream of people.
The international portal transported Hasan to England, and as soon as he stepped out of the portal room into the main hall, he immediately caught sight of a tall, fair-haired young man. Cassius had matured considerably since their last meeting and no longer resembled the little elf from Muggle fairy tales.
Now he was a mature, self-assured young man. "He's shed blood more than once," Hassan determined with an experienced eye. "It's not for nothing that he became the head of an ancient family," the marabout grinned to himself.
After embracing and greeting each other, the old friends headed for the exit. "The use of flying carpets is prohibited by the laws of magical England!" shouted the tired customs officer. "Leave all prohibited items in the storage rooms."
The young magicians set off for Grimm 12, where the faithful Kreacher had already prepared rooms for the guest of his kind host. The old brownie was delighted with the new head of the oldest and most noble family. "He performs rituals, makes sacrifices, and even his young master smelled strongly of steel and blood. A worthy wizard," the old brownie decided happily as he set the table.
Cassius told Hassan about the tournament and suggested that they take a walk along Diagon Alley, see all the sights of magical England, and visit Stonehenge. When the time came for the second stage, they would go there together.
"Will she be there?" Hassan breathed. "Have you seen her?"
"I saw her, and I even danced with her, my friend," Cassius smiled cheerfully. "Kricher will bring the memory vortex soon, and you'll see everything for yourself."
An hour later, pulling himself away from the bowl, Hassan rolled his eyes blissfully:
"Oh, Allah, she has become even more beautiful over the years. It's a pity she never replied to my letters."
Cassius looked at his enamoured friend with a smirk:
"Well, you saw for yourself in the memory pot that she doesn't mind getting to know you. I know it's not customary for you to have fewer than a hundred wives," he said cheerfully, "but I think you'll work something out if the love is mutual. The main thing is, don't succumb to her charms, or you can forget about her," Cassius said seriously, looking at his friend. "She's got a thing about that. Apparently, she's been badly hurt by magicians who can't control themselves. That's basically why we went out together that evening, so that I wouldn't disturb her with my glassy stare.
"Don't worry," Hassan smiled crookedly, "in the last two years, my mentors have beaten all the nonsense out of me. I've even had a chance to fight, and as you can see, I'm still in one piece.
"There's no war here yet," Cassius grinned crookedly, "but you have to be ready, anything can happen.
***
On that day, a large number of magicians arrived from the Middle East, and there were plenty of people to meet them, so the hall was filled with a constant buzz. Pushing his way through the crowd, a tall red-haired guy looked around.
"Hello, son!" Arthur Weasley waved his arms when the tanned Bill Weasley came out of the portal room.
"The use of flying carpets is prohibited by the laws of magical England!" shouted a tired customs officer. "Leave all prohibited items in the storage rooms."
Father and son walked past the customs officer and out onto the street.
"Are you here for good or just visiting?" Arthur asked, looking with pleasure at his tanned, strong eldest son.
"I think for good," Bill said sadly. "The goblins somehow found out about our middlemen, through whom we sold some of what we found in the pyramids. They couldn't prove anything, but they kicked us out of such a lucrative place. Mordred's little men," Bill cursed. "Now we'll have to keep a low profile here in England until things settle down. It's okay, I've saved up enough money for the house, now I can get married," he smiled at his father. "I'll find myself a pretty girl and settle down.
"That would be nice," Arthur said happily, scratching his cheek. "On the 24th of February, we're going to Hogwarts to support Harry Potter in the tournament. Somehow, the boy ended up participating and barely made it out alive after the first stage. He had to fight a tailed horse, can you imagine?" Arthur clapped his hands. "And he managed to survive!
"Yes, Harry and Ron are good guys, they help each other with everything. I'll go with you, and I'll get to see some people, because there's nothing but sand and pyramids in this desert.
Sitting down at the kitchen table, the Weasleys raised their glasses to their reunion. Percy had also come over from the Ministry for his lunch break and was now telling Bill smugly what an important official he was now and what a great career lay ahead of him. The only ones missing were the students; classes were in full swing at Hogwarts. Molly glanced secretly at the family clock. Everything was fine with everyone, except that Charlie's clock face was permanently grey. Molly sighed heavily, but then looked at her cheerful eldest son and forced herself to smile.
***
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