Chapter Text
Chapter 6: High-Society Alignments and Hidden Perches
Hermione POV
I stepped through the roaring green flames, stumbling slightly as I emerged onto the polished hardwood floor of Albus Dumbledore’s old office—now belonging to Headmistress McGonagall. Before I could even clear the ash from my clothes, a small, worried whirlwind in a starched apron descended upon me.
Madam Pomfrey dragged me into a tight, surprisingly fierce hug.
“Hermione, dear! It is simply marvelous to see you,” the school nurse breathed, stepping back to hold me at arm's length. “I must personally thank you. The endless herbs and medical-grade potions your corporate labs have been donating to the hospital wing have been absolute godsends.”
I arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, casting a quick look over Pomfrey's shoulder toward Minerva, who sat quietly at her desk, saying nothing.
Madam Pomfrey let out a knowing, analytical chuckle. “Oh, save the innocent routine, my dear. I have known who you truly were and what was waiting to awaken inside your veins since your second year. When you were brought to my ward half-transfigured into a cat and refused to tell me how it happened, I ran comprehensive blood diagnostics to rule out an early creature inheritance. It wasn't, obviously, but the markers clearly predicted a spectacular lineage awakening down the line. I saw you during the Battle of Hogwarts—your body was radiating the baseline energy of a True Chooser. You were executing your divine duty without even comprehending it.”
The nurse’s gaze softened into something profoundly reverent. “I am deeply honored to be in your presence, child. If you require anything for your upkeep, you tell me. I know channeling your magical essence to power ancestral magic takes a severe biological toll. If you don't have active mates to draw from yet, I will personally provide the donor blood. One hundred percent clean, certified pureblood donor reserves.”
A sharp shiver rippled straight down my spine at the word mates. My thoughts instantly drifted to the raw power of the Slytherin boys, and a sudden heat flared in my core. I snapped myself out of it violently, biting the inside of my cheek. No. Absolutely not. What happened to my vow of total autonomy? I was supposed to be running my own life, not letting old prophecies write it for me. I am single, unattached, and available to mingle. No sucking anyone’s blood.
Turning toward the Headmistress, I let out a heavy, stabilizing sigh. “First things first: Harry is on his way. My twin solicitors are right behind him. What I am about to lay out when they arrive will completely blow your minds—you'll probably think I've gone entirely mad—but I need you to be patient with me. Secondly, yes... I am a full-blooded Valkyrie, ma'am. I have massive, black-feathered wings that I can manifest at will, and after a lot of trial and error this summer, I finally managed to modify a standard household laundry charm to phase them through my clothes without tearing the fabrics.”
I walked over to the plush couch, sinking into the cushions as exhaustion began to pull at my bones. “I have fangs that extend on command, my eyes shift colors when I draw on my core, and as Madame Pomfrey correctly guessed... I require a biological intake of blood whenever I over-tax my magical reservoir.” I looked back up at the nurse. “Which brings me to tonight. I hate to burden you before the school term officially begins, but I am tasked with using a massive amount of magic tonight to show you what must be shown. Can you set me up with a blood transfusion immediately? I am also going to need an entire tray of empty stasis flasks in varying sizes.”
Without a single word of protest, Madam Pomfrey gave a sharp, determined nod and marched straight out of the office to gather her supplies.
Left alone with the Headmistress, I slid off the couch, dropping cleanly to one knee before her desk in a formal pureblood stance. “Ma'am... please. I know I sound scattered, but before this night ends, you will have every piece of the puzzle. I am going to need your absolute guidance for what’s to come. I need my High Mentor. My Fræðimaður.”
Minerva’s eyes swept across my kneeling form, her fierce exterior instantly crumbling. She rushed out from behind her desk, pulling me off the floor and enveloping me in a crushing, profoundly maternal embrace. “My dear child... I will always be whatever you need me to be,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly against my hair. “But I am desperately worried for you. The last time I saw you looking this fragile, you had just returned from Australia, relying on Muggle substances and looking utterly hollowed out.”
A dry chuckle escaped me as I gently rubbed her back, stepping out of the embrace. “No, ma'am. I promise it is nothing like that. I woke up fine, did my conditioning, and had a wonderful motorcycle ride this morning. It's just that I’ve used a staggering amount of raw, ancestral magic since then, and my core hasn't had a moment to stabilize. I am completely running on empty.”
The heavy oak doors clicked open, and Madam Pomfrey rolled in a silver trolley stacked high with sterile medical equipment, stasis charms, and dark crimson flasks. She looked at me with a strict, no-nonsense maternal glint. “Best to be prepared for the absolute worst, my lady. I am here for your upkeep tonight, but you will obey my diagnostics. No fussing when I tell you to take a breather and replenish your essence.”
I gave her a grateful nod just as the fireplace flared with brilliant emerald flames. Out stepped Harry. He took one look at me, bypassed the professors entirely, and hauled me off my feet into a fierce, bone-crushing hug.
“Sister, I’ve been nearly out of my mind since your call,” Harry muttered into my shoulder, his grip tightening as if checking to see if I were real. He pulled back slightly, pressing a protective kiss to my forehead. “Tell me what we're facing. Whatever it is, I am right here. We are stronger together.”
“Breathe, brother,” I said softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “All in good time. We are just waiting on Christopher and Charles to arrive. It is absolutely vital that my legal team witnesses this proceeding.”
Harry stepped back, politely greeting Minerva and Pomfrey. I turned to the two older women, my expression turning grave. “Harry knows the basics of my inheritance, but he doesn't know what occurred at Stonehenge today. I want you all to witness it together so the authenticity of the memory is undeniable. But... there is something else. Something I discovered while tracking my parents in Australia that I hid from both of you. It is the real reason I came back so utterly destroyed. I wasn't ready to speak it aloud, but a higher power has commanded me to lay it bare tonight and take absolute vengeance on the people responsible.”
Before they could question me, the hearth flared again, and Charles and Christopher Brooks stepped onto the rug, their crisp dragon-hide briefcases held tightly. The moment they spotted me, the twin old men dropped into perfectly synchronized, dramatic bows.
“Madame,” they intoned in unison. “We have compiled the requested master contracts. We stand ready to serve your line.”
I let out an amused snicker at their over-the-top antics. “Get up, you two silly old fools.”
They straightened, their eyes gleaming with razor-sharp legal focus as they handed me the thick parchment folders. I walked over to the heavy wingback chair by the window and took my seat, the authority of my Burke and Dagsworth-Granger bloodlines settling over me like a cloak.
“Alright, let's get to work,” I commanded, looking around the room. “Madame Pomfrey, set up the line. Headmistress, place the grand castle Pensieve directly in front of me on the table. Charles, Christopher... from this moment on, you are on the clock. Your sole directive tonight is to act as my high court legal team. I am going to pull a massive, unaltered memory block from my perspective today, and I need you to authenticate, seal, and legally log every single thread of it.”
The two old men seemed to grow three inches taller, their faces hardening into the lethal legal visages that ran my corporate empire. They immediately sat at a side table, unpacking enchanted self-inking quills, legal parchment, and specialized vault vials.
Madam Pomfrey moved swiftly, deftly inserting an IV line into the crook of my elbow, connecting it to a warm flask of clean, rich pureblood donor reserves. The moment the foreign vitality hit my bloodstream, my core let out a desperate, phantom purr, drinking it down like parched earth.
“I am going to extract the memory of my entire day now,” I announced to the room, drawing my vine-wood wand and pressing the tip firmly against my temple. “Stand by.”
I closed my eyes, diving backward into my mind. I watched the morning replay at a hyper-accelerated speed—the workout, the call with Harry, the roaring ride on my father's motorcycle, the infiltration of Stonehenge, and then... the violent pull across the veil. I forced my consciousness to capture every single detail of the golden spires of Asgard, the roaring presence of the Allfather, the kneeling forms of the dead Death Eaters, the banishment of Voldemort and Bellatrix into Helheim, and the precise instructions regarding Harry's status as a cosmic pillar and the hidden Blackstoke papers.
Extracting a memory block that massive felt like pulling heavy, molten silver directly out of my brain tissue. My vision went entirely white. My body began to violently shake as the physical strain threatened to tear my focus.
“Hold her steady!” Pomfrey’s voice echoed dimly through the haze.
Suddenly, a warm, unyielding grip clamped down on my wand hand, anchoring my trembling arm. Harry’s magic surged alongside mine, stabilizing the silver strand as I finally pulled the wand away from my temple, dragging the massive, glowing orb of memory out with it.
I blinked through the sweat dripping into my eyes, finding myself slouched in the chair. Madam Pomfrey was adjusting the flow of the blood IV, her expression tense, while Minerva paced the length of the rug, her hands wringing as she muttered under her breath. Charles and Christopher were already scribbling furiously, logging the exact timestamp of a High-Tier extraction.
“Mione, bloody hell, you terrified me,” Harry breathed, his hand still gently bracing my wrist. “Are you alright if I let go?”
“Yes... thank you, brother,” I whispered, my voice raw. I raised my wand, carefully using a specialized slicing charm to cut specific personal sections from the main memory strand, guiding the extracted pieces into three distinct, localized vials on the trolley. With a sharp flick, the enchanted labels materialized on the glass, matching my exact blood signature.
Minerva rushed over, her face pale as she seized my free hand. “My dear child... when your body began convulsing, I nearly demanded we abort the process. If it weren't for Harry’s anchoring and Poppy’s quick work with the transfusion, I fear the strain would have killed you. Please, do not jeopardize your life like that again. I am simply not ready to be sent to an early grave.”
Looking up at the fierce Scottish witch who had protected me since I was eleven, a deep wave of affection washed over me. It was time to make it permanent. “I am deeply sorry... Godmother.”
Minerva froze, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes widened drastically. The strict mask broke completely, a tear spilling over her lashes as a breathtaking smile lit up her face.
“I didn't mean to terrify you, Godmother,” I continued, letting the word settle comfortably between us. “The memory pull was simply monumental. My essence was depleted from today's events, but Poppy has me sorted.”
I glanced over at my legal team. Charles and Christopher were executing double-verification charms over their logs, ensuring the paperwork was airtight. They looked up, clearing their throats sheepishly. “Forgive us, Madame, but given the volatile nature of what you insinuated, we deemed it legally prudent to secure independent memory logs of the extraction itself. We will double-verify once we view the core strand.”
“You two are brilliant. Thank you,” I smiled. The two short old men blushed furiously, placing their hands over their hearts in unison.
“We live to serve your Highness,” they chanted.
“Charles, Christopher... I want you to immediately draft the official, blood-tied documentation establishing Minerva McGonagall as my legal, magical godmother,” I instructed. I looked up at her. “If that is agreeable to you, of course?”
Minerva couldn't even speak; she simply nodded fiercely, wiping another tear away as she squared her shoulders.
“It shall be executed immediately, my lady,” Christopher confirmed.
I turned my attention to Harry, who was watching me with a proud, knowing grin. “Alright, everyone. Gather around the Pensieve. It is time you see the unedited truth of what walks among you.”
They moved as a collective unit, leaning over the massive stone basin. Together, we plunged into the silver depths.
Watching the golden realm of Asgard unfold for a second time was entirely surreal. Standing in the memory as a detached observer, I was able to analyze the environment with cold logic. I watched the absolute shock ripple through the dead Death Eater generals as I laid bare my bloodlines—the Burke and Dagsworth-Granger titles. I saw the profound shame and disgust written across the faces of Voldemort’s former inner circle when I exposed the truth of his pathetic, half-blood origin and the love potion that conceived him. They didn't look at me with hatred; they looked at me as if I were a terrifying, divine sovereign.
I watched Odin and myself track through the golden spires toward the roaring waterfall. I saw the precise moment my past-self bristled at the mention of five potential mates, and I had to grudgingly admit the Allfather was right—nothing was written in stone unless I permitted it.
When the memory shifted back to the Great Hall, I watched Lucius Malfoy closely. There was an undeniable, deeply sincere look in his eyes when he spoke of his son, Draco—but there was also a distinct, hidden flash of pure mischief when he told me Draco was a completely different man beneath the mask. Fascinating. The older Malfoy clearly knew more about the cosmic strings than he was letting on.
With a sudden, violent upward pull, the memory ended, and we were blasted back into our physical bodies in the office.
The silence in the room was suffocating. Madam Pomfrey was slumped entirely against the wall, her hand pressed flat over her racing heart. Charles and Christopher were muttering like lunatics, lunging for their quills to transcribe the legal implications of a living divine realm. Minerva was frozen in a conjured chair, her eyes glazed over with shock.
But Harry... Harry had dropped straight onto his knees in front of my chair. Before I could say a word, he threw himself forward, burying his face into my shoulder as his entire frame shook with a violent, protective rage.
“I am so sorry, Hermione,” he choked out, his voice a lethal, vibrating hiss. “I am so sorry I didn't protect you this summer. I am sorry I let that ginger bastard anywhere near your life. He will pay. Every single one of them will bleed for what they did to you.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck, gently running my fingers through his messy curls to soothe his rising magic. “Shh... breathe, brother. I should be the one apologizing. I should have told you the second I returned from Australia, but I was too broken to speak it aloud. I am sorry I had to drop this horror into your life. I feel as though I am ruining your peace.”
Harry pulled back, his green eyes burning with an unyielding, primal strength. “You aren't ruining anything, Mione. Because of you, we can cut the head off this snake before it ever has a chance to bite. We have Odin’s instructions. We make a plan, and we execute it.” He turned his head sharply toward Minerva. “First order of business, Godmother... it is time to open the safe.”
Minerva snapped out of her trance, her eyes flashing with a fierce new purpose. She marched directly toward the grand portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black. The ancient Headmaster woke up, shifting in his canvas as he looked down at us with an expression of profound relief.
“Finally,” Phineas murmured, his voice surprisingly solemn. “I was beginning to think you children would never unlock the keys. I was bound by an ancient blood-vow to never swing clear for anyone but the true heirs.”
With a smooth click, the portrait swung outward, exposing a heavy, iron-wrought safe set into the stones.
Minerva stepped up, her fingers gripping the brass dial as she called out the numbers. “Seventy-three to the right. Nineteen to the left. Nineteen back to the right.”
The heavy mechanism unlocked with a metallic thud, and the door swung open. Resting on the velvet interior was a thick, dust-covered stack of ancient parchment tied with black silk ribbon.
I turned instantly to Charles and Christopher. “Take these papers. I need you to immediately locate Harry’s private solicitor, Mr. Mercier. Furthermore, you are to go directly to my personal Burke vault at Gringotts. In the furthest back corner, you will find a small, blood-keyed wooden lockbox with an unread letter resting on top. Retrieve both items, secure Harry's legal team, and bring the Head Goblin, Ragnok, directly to this office via the high court Floo. We do not sign a single line until the goblin nation notarizes the transfers.”
The twins snatched up their briefcases, their expressions lethal as they threw themselves into the fireplace, vanishing into the green flames.
With a temporary breath of quiet settling over the room, I looked between Harry and Minerva. “We need to summon Ginny. Immediately. She cannot find out about her mother and brother's betrayal through a public legal execution or gossip. The faster we pull her out from beneath Molly's roof, the better. Poppy can run comprehensive diagnostic scans the moment she steps through the flames to check for active potion tethers.”
Harry nodded grimly in agreement. Minerva moved straight to her desk, her quill flying across a piece of official parchment. “I will phrase the letter as an urgent, mandatory high-society disciplinary summary regarding the upcoming term. If Molly intercepts it, she will merely think Ginny is being scolded for a scholastic discrepancy.”
Minerva marched to the hearth, tossing a handful of powder into the flames. “The Burrow! Ginny Weasley!” She hurled the letter through the green void.
A mere ten minutes later, the fireplace flared violently, and Charles and Christopher stepped out, followed closely by a sharp-eyed pureblood solicitor named Mr. Mercier, and finally, the imposing, heavily armored form of Ragnok, the Director of Gringotts. Christopher carefully placed the wooden Burke lockbox on the central table alongside the original safe documents.
“Gentlemen,” I spoke, my voice echoing with absolute authority as I stood up. “You are gathered here to witness and legally seal three historic transitions. First, the official registration of Headmistress McGonagall as my blood-tied magical godmother. Second, the verification of an ancient document executed by Sirius Black prior to his death, legally transferring his guardianship over Harry to Minerva McGonagall. And third...”
I pointed my wand at the black-ribboned parchment. “The verified blood-adoption papers executed by Sirius and Orion Black, legally recognizing Harry James Potter as the true, blood-descended grandson of Orion Black—the rightful, reigning Earl of Blackstoke.”
Mr. Mercier and Director Ragnok snapped to attention, their eyes widening at the sheer political magnitude of the claim. The room erupted into a flurry of scratching quills, blood-ink seals, and ancient goblin magic. I signed my godmother contracts first, feeling an undeniable, warm click in my chest as the magic recognized Minerva as my true guardian. Next, I signed the corporate ownership transitions for Frankie and Jake’s tattoo studio, sealing the documents and handing the folders directly to Charles.
“Submit these to the Ministry registry the second the doors open tomorrow,” I commanded the twins. “My portion is done. Make sure the tattoo contracts are completed and finalized, and ensure they are filed flawlessly.”
“It shall be done, your Highness,” the twins intoned, executing another sharp bow before vanishing back through the Floo with their completed briefcases.
I walked over to the grand window overlooking the Black Lake, wrapping my arm around Minerva’s waist and resting my head against her shoulder. “Thank you for always being my shield, Minerva. From the moment you walked onto my Muggle doorstep with my Hogwarts letter, you were the mother figure I could talk to when I couldn't reach my own. Odin called you my High Mentor... my Fræðimaður. It only feels right to make it real.”
Behind us, I heard a distinct, emotional sniffle. I turned to find both Minerva and Madam Pomfrey blinking away thick tears, while Harry watched us with an immensely proud, glossy-eyed smile. Ragnok and Mercier finished stamping the final lines of the Blackstoke succession with gold Gringotts wax.
Before anyone could break the silence, the fireplace roared, and Ginny Weasley stumbled onto the rug, looking slightly panicked and disheveled. The moment her brown eyes locked onto me, her jaw dropped. She launched herself forward, lifting me entirely off the carpet in a fierce, emotional hug.
“Oh my gods, Hermione! I’ve missed you so much,” Ginny cried, pulling back to survey my appearance. Her eyes dilated drastically as she took in my sleek, edgy look, a wide, mischievous smirk pulling at her lips. “Merlin, girl, I would literally kill for your styling routine. Your hair is absolutely gorgeous.”
A genuine laugh escaped me, and even Harry let out an amused snicker from the couch. I gave Ginny a quick wink. “Later, Gin. I promise.”
Director Ragnok and Mr. Mercier stepped into the flames, executing formal bows toward Harry and myself as they departed for the night to lock the Blackstoke inheritance into the deepest high-security vaults.
Once the office cleared of outsiders, Ginny looked around, her confusion mounting. “Wait... Godmother? I heard you say Godmother, Hermione.”
“Yes,” Harry spoke up, stepping forward. “Minerva is legally recognized as our godmother now, Gin. But that isn't the only reason you were summoned. We need to discuss a deep, catastrophic betrayal within your family—specifically involving your mother and Ron. But before we lay out the truth, I must insist you take an absolute loyalty vow to Hermione and myself. This isn't like an Imperius curse or a loyalty potion; it requires pure, unfiltered willingness from your own soul, or the magic will reject the bond.”
Ginny didn't hesitate. She stepped up, her jaw setting with that fierce, legendary Weasley determination. “Always, Harry. I have trusted you and Hermione with my life since I was eleven. If a loyalty vow ensures we stand together, I am in. One hundred percent.”
I closed my eyes, reaching deep into my core, and called out softly, “Líf-leikr, I need you.”
With a brilliant flash of silver light, my radiant ancestral Light Stave materialized in midair, settling firmly into my grip. The tip erupted with a blinding, sun-like illumination that flooded every corner of the office. Ginny gasped loudly, her eyes tracking the ancient wood as I looked at her with an unyielding gravity.
“Ginny... what I am about to tell you involves a level of creature inheritance that the Ministry would try to lock me away for if they ever discovered it. The only people who know are in this room. I trust Minerva with my life, Poppy has hidden my secrets since second year, and Harry is my brother. You are the first sister I ever had, and I want you safe. Once the vow is sealed, I will show you exactly what I am.”
Ginny seized Harry’s hand, dragging him toward me until the three of us formed a tight, closed circle. She grasped my hand firmly, her eyes burning with pure sincerity. “I don't care what you are, Hermione. You are my family. Let's do this.”
I turned to Minerva, handing her the glowing stave. “Will you use Líf-leikr to bind the lines, Godmother? The stave is blood-bound to my core—it recognizes your status as my mentor and will channel the vow flawlessly.”
Minerva accepted the ancient crystal, her posture straightening as a powerful rush of raw, pure light energy surged up her arms, causing her to draw in a sharp, awe-struck breath. She brought the tip of the stave down over our interjoined hands.
“Do you, Ginevra Molly Weasley, enter into this covenant willingly, with an open and pure heart?” Minerva’s voice boomed with judicial authority. “Do you swear your absolute loyalty to Hermione Jean Granger and Harry James Potter, to always work in their favor and never against them, from this day forth until your final breath?”
“I do,” Ginny spoke, her voice ringing clear as the silver magic began to twist around our wrists. “I swear my true loyalty to Hermione and Harry. I will stand as your shield, always.”
The light flared, cementing the bond. I stepped forward, my magic locking into theirs. “I, Hermione Jean Granger, swear my true loyalty to Ginevra and Harry. Your fight is my fight, until my final breath.”
Harry’s green eyes flashed with a magnificent, emerald intensity as the circuit completed. “I, Harry James Potter, swear my true loyalty to Ginevra and Hermione. We stand as a single unit, always.”
With a spectacular, silent snap of golden static, the three-way loyalty vow sealed itself directly into our souls. Minerva handed Líf-leikr back to me, her cheeks flushed with the lingering rush of high-tier magic. “That is an exceptionally formidable weapon, Hermione. Take extraordinary care of it.”
“I will,” I smiled, looking over at Madam Pomfrey, who was already prepping a secondary, minor blood booster to combat the residual strain. Within fifteen minutes, the transfusion perked my core back up to full capacity, the metallic tang grounding my senses completely.
Once Pomfrey cleared the area, I walked over to the couch, pushing Harry down and pulling Ginny next to him. I climbed right onto their laps, resting my boots across Ginny's knees while leaning my shoulder against Harry’s chest. I needed physical contact to anchor me for the next part.
“Minerva, please lock the parameters and seal the Floo network,” I requested softly. With a sharp flick of her wand, the heavy iron gates slammed shut over the fireplace, and the office doors sealed with a series of interlocking locking charms.
I looked directly into Ginny’s eyes. “This story begins this summer, Gin. When I arrived at the Burrow, I told you all that I had safely convinced my parents to modify their lives and move their dentistry practice to Australia. That was a lie. I modified their minds. I used a heavy, comprehensive Obliviate on them, wiped every trace of my existence from their memories, and built fake identities and financial portfolios to keep them hidden from Voldemort’s Death Eaters. Albus Dumbledore bought their house under a proxy name to let it sit empty as a decoy.”
Ginny let out a horrified gasp, her fingers tightening against my knee.
“After the war ended,” I swallowed past the lump in my throat, “I went to Australia to reverse the charms and bring them home. But I was two weeks too late. A freak, catastrophic car accident claimed both of their lives before I could find them. They died never knowing they had a daughter.”
Tears streamed down Ginny's cheeks, and even Harry pulled me closer against his chest.
“I broke down completely,” I whispered, staring into the hearth fire. “I spent some time numbing the pain in the Muggle underground—drinking, substances, reckless behavior. When I finally cleared my head, I went to the Australian Ministry to claim their remains. Because their identities were falsified, I had to submit to a comprehensive blood and DNA diagnostic to prove relation. That was when the truth came out.”
I met Ginny’s stunned gaze. “I am not a Muggle-born, Gin. My father was a pureblood wizard from a hidden branch of the Dagsworth-Granger line, whose magic was bound to protect our family. My mother was the biological daughter of Amalia Burke—the last true heiress to the Burke lineage. I am the legal owner of the Burke vaults and estates.”
Ginny’s jaw dropped as she did the historical math. “The Burke line... Merlin, Hermione...”
“But that isn't the worst of it,” I continued, my voice dropping into a dangerous, icy register. “While clearing out our old camp tent this summer, I found a blood-locked security box hidden beneath Ron's old bunk. I managed to crack the ward sequence using mine and Harry’s birthdays. Inside, I found documentation and letters from your mother, Molly.”
I flicked my wand, and the wooden box flew from Minerva's desk, slamming onto the coffee table. I flipped the lid open, pulling out the faded parchment lines written in Molly’s distinct script, handing them directly to Ginny.
I watched Ginny's eyes track the words. I saw the precise second she realized her mother had been systematically manufacturing love potions, compliance draughts, and loyalty tethers—forcing Ginny to fall for Harry and forcing Ron to drug me, all to hijack our respective war accolades, vaults, and social standing.
Ginny slammed the paper onto the table, leaping to her feet as her magic flared violently, rattling the loose instruments in the room. “Those utter bastards!” she screamed, her face flushed with pure, unadulterated fury. “She violated our minds! She force-fed me those 'growth tinctures' and 'mineral teas' every single day at the Burrow, claiming they were for my health! She engineered a fake romance! She turned my brother into a predatory puppet!”
“Calm your magic, Gin,” Harry spoke softly, his voice grounded. “The day I died in the forest, the magical feedback shattered every active potion tether in our systems. That's why we all drifted apart the moment the war ended. The compliance broke.”
Ginny paced the length of the rug, her teeth bared. “They wanted the social status and the billions. They wanted control. Well, they have absolutely no idea what they’ve just unleashed. They think I'm the obedient little pureblood princess who does what she's told? I will personally help you tear them down.”
A dark, satisfied smirk pulled at my lips. “Excellent. Now that the heavy ledger is open, let’s lighten the room. You wanted to meet my true creature side?”
The girls and Harry nodded eagerly. I stepped into the center of the office, drawing a deep breath as I channeled the ancestral power waiting in my marrow.
“Galdrar.”
With a spectacular, echoing rush of raw power, my massive, midnight-black Valkyrie wings erupted from my shoulder blades, unfurling to span the width of the stone floor. I opened my eyes, knowing they were glowing with a fierce, metallic silver sheen, and let my razor-sharp fangs descend past my lips.
Ginny and Minerva gasped simultaneously, taking a step back in sheer awe.
“I am the last living full-blooded Valkyrie walking the earth,” I announced, the double-tonal resonance of the creature echoing in my voice. “I inherited the dormant gene through the Burke bloodline—descending directly from Odin’s high commander, Freyja. In this full form, my name is Galdrar.”
“Can you shift into anything else?” Ginny breathed, her anger entirely replaced by sheer fascination.
Focusing my mind on the concept of shadow and stealth, I let my physical form dissolve, collapsing into a magnificent, sleek black Raven. I launched into the air, circling the vaulted ceiling before landing squarely on Harry’s shoulder, affectionately nipping his earlobe as he let out a delighted chuckle, stroking my feathers.
“You are absolutely spectacular, sister,” he murmured.
I took flight again, landing gracefully on Minerva’s outstretched hand. The Headmistress studied my dark plumage, her eyes tracking the faint, shimmering patterns etched into the feathers. “Goodness, child... if one looks closely, the micro-pigmentation in your feathers perfectly mirrors the structural geometry of your tattoos.”
I cooed softly, nipping her ear in a formal Valkyrie blessing, before launching back into the center of the rug and shifting smoothly back into my human form, resting my hands on my hips.
“There is one final baseline shift,” I told them, drawing my wand. “My Patronus changed the moment my core stabilized this summer. Expecto Patronum!”
Instead of a small otter, a towering, spectacular, silver-white Abraxan winged horse erupted from my wand. It trotted in a grand, protective circle around the office, its massive wings fluttering with a heavy thrum before it reared on its hind legs, letting out a gravelly, echoing neigh that shook the windowpanes before dissolving into mist.
Minerva stared at the empty air, her hand pressing against her chin. “An Abraxan... it makes flawless logical sense, Hermione. Your soul commands wings now. A water otter would be entirely incompatible with a Chooser of the Slain.”
“I named him Gulltoppr,” I smiled, pocketing my wand. “And my Raven form answers to Pallas.”
Minerva walked back to her desk, her expression turning thoroughly strategic. “Harry, tomorrow morning, you and I are marching directly into the Ministry with the Blackstoke papers. We will inform Shacklebolt that Sirius’s final legal directive mandates your immediate withdrawal from the Auror academy to finish your traditional Hogwarts education. It keeps you inside these castle walls, under my direct protection, and completely isolated from Molly and Ron.”
Ginny stepped forward, her expression fierce. “Headmistress... since I am officially of age by wizarding law, can my solicitors draft proxy papers naming you as my legal godmother as well? I refuse to let my family force me out of this castle or sign financial contracts on my behalf ever again. I want total legal separation from them.”
Minerva smiled warmly, her eyes shining with fierce pride. “I would be absolutely honored, Ginevra. We will have Hermione’s team oversee the filing to ensure Molly cannot contest it. Now, children... it is past midnight, and we have a solid foundation. Before I guide you to the new 8th-year quarters, I must apprise you of a critical Ministry directive for tomorrow's opening feast: There will be a mandatory, school-wide Resorting for every returning student. We are not the children we were before the fires.”
I let out a soft, self-deprecating sigh. “I fear I will disappoint you, Godmother. With everything I am and everything I must execute this year... I am no longer a Gryffindor. The sorting hat will undoubtedly drop me into Slytherin.”
Harry burst into a genuine, amused laugh. “Mione, the hat wanted to put me in Slytherin first year before I begged it not to. This time, I am going to let it place me exactly where my core belongs. Not all snakes are evil.”
Ginny smirked wickedly, tossing her red curls. “Fred, George, and I were all hat-stalls for Slytherin, too. We only chose Gryffindor to satisfy the family expectations. This time, I am choosing my real family. We are going to absolutely shock this castle tomorrow night.”
A brilliant, relieved smile broke across my face. I packed my staves and memory vials securely into my trunk, shrinking it back into my pocket alongside the Pensieve Minerva insisted I borrow for the night.
“To find the common room, simply hold out your wands and command, Point Me to my dorm,” Minerva instructed smoothly. “The 8th-year quarters house all four houses together under a single password: Unity. There is a strict age line set at the threshold—no one under seventeen can cross. Hermione, your suite includes an unplottable private balcony that renders you invisible from the outside, allowing you to fly Pallas without detection. Your fireplaces are keyed directly to my office Floo for secure legal meetings. Go get settled, children. I will have some old friends from the kitchens bring up a late-night spread shortly.”
We bade the professors goodnight, exiting the office into the quiet corridors. Harry’s wand guided us past the traditional tower routes, leading us deep into the West corridor near the West Tower structure. We stopped in front of a massive, ancient tapestry depicting an intricate coat of arms representing all four houses.
A painted silver serpent slithered down from the corner, hissing softly, “Passssword, pleassssse.”
“Esseytha seyythaa aayaa ssseya haaaaaah,” Harry hissed back in flawless Parseltongue.
The tapestry swung open, exposing a spectacular, sweeping common room filled with deep green and rich crimson leather couches, three roaring hearths, a massive floor-to-ceiling bookcase loaded with advanced magical texts, and a sleek private kitchenette.
We ascended the central staircase to the top landing, tracking the brass nameplates mounted on the mahogany doors. On the left side of the corridor, the layout was clear: P. Parkinson, H. Potter, H. Granger, G. Weasley, and B. Zabini. Directly across the hall from my door sat a single plate: D. Malfoy.
A distinct, electric pulse vibrated in my core as I stood on the landing. An instinctual wave of ancient magic rushed to the surface.
“Líf-leikr, I need you,” I whispered, the light stave materializing in my hand. I pricked the tip of my index finger against the grain, letting a single drop of my Valkyrie blood coat the tip. Moving toward the entrance archway of our specific floor, I began carving five ancient Norse runes directly into the woodwork: Algiz for high protection, Othala for family, Nauthiz to banish tethers, Thurisaz to repel intruders, and Gebo to seal the covenant.
“Harry, Ginny, come here,” I commanded softly. They stepped up, and without a word, I used the stave tip to lightly prick their index fingers. We brought our bleeding fingers together, pressing them flat against the carved runes as a heavy, pressurized static filled the air.
Together, driven by a shared, telepathic pulse, we chanted into the shadows: “Hér ver ek, hér bind ek, Allir firrask, nema þeir ek kýs.”
On the third repetition, the blood-ward snapped into place with a spectacular wave of localized pressure, sinking invisibly into the stone arches.
Harry blinked, rubbing his wrist as the pressure stabilized. “Mione... what did we just lock in?”
“A high court blood-tether,” I whispered, a dark, satisfied smirk touching my lips. “It translates to: Here I ward, here I bind, all shall stay far, except those I choose. It creates a localized repulsion field that prevents anyone from entering our floor unless our collective hearts permit it. Right now, it recognizes our godmother and the specific students assigned to these doors. We just blood-bonded our lines as a sovereign unit.”
Harry looked down the hall, noting the names: M. Riddle and T. Nott further down the right side. “The castle paired us with the elite Slytherin core for a reason, sister. Your magic accepted them. You aren't alone anymore you have mates. Take thirty minutes to unpack—I need to write a private dispatch.”
“Mates?” Ginny whispered the second Harry shut his door, her eyes gleaming with pure mischief. “What did Harry mean by mates, Hermione? Who are they?”
“All in good time, Gin,” I snickered, stepping into my suite. “Get into some comfortable clothes. We meet downstairs in thirty minutes.”
My private room was magnificent. A massive four-poster bed sat against the far wall, flanked by a massive walk-in closet and an en-suite bathroom featuring a double marble vanity and a deep, jet-powered clawfoot tub. With a sharp wave of my wand, my trunk expanded, and my belongings flew into place—my advanced reference texts filling the bookshelves, my wardrobe arranging itself by color, and my training mats and heavy sandbag suspending themselves in the open workout alcove.
I unpacked my hidden safe, setting it into the closet wall beneath a spinning dial keyed to the exact date of my Valkyrie awakening, sealing my staves inside before masking the vault with a full-length mirror.
Changing into a sleek black camisole tank top and matching lounge shorts, I grabbed my bag of charcoal hair dye supplies. I called down a bottle of Firewhisky, three shot glasses, and my pack of Esse Clove cigarettes, letting them hover behind me as I marched back down to the common room hearth.
Ginny was already waiting on the hearth rug, wearing a pink camisole set covered in tiny heart prints. She took one look at my exposed ink and silver piercings and let out a loud, appreciative whistle. “Hot damn, Hermione... I think I might be entirely bisexual, because I would totally shag you. Those pieces are spectacular.”
I burst into a massive, echoing belly laugh just as Harry stepped out of the shadows by the fire. He had changed into a pair of black silk lounging pants, his chest bare. He gave my collection of vices a thoroughly amused look.
Ginny arched an eyebrow at the cigarettes and rolled joints. “I thought you said you were clean of substances, Granger?”
“I am,” I replied smoothly, popping open the Firewhisky. “Cigarettes are legal, and marijuana is just an herbal relaxant to drop my shields. I gave up the hard Muggle narcotics when I purged my system in Sydney, Gin. I promise.”
She accepted the answer, her eyes locking onto the dye kit. “Please tell me we're doing my hair. My mother would have had a literal stroke if I ever touched the Weasley red.”
“Good thing she’s currently miles away,” I smirked, pouring three heavy shots of Firewhisky. We knocked them back in perfect unison, the burning liquid grounding us completely.
I set Ginny up with the Pensieve, letting her dive into the unedited memory of the Valhalla confrontation while I got to work on Harry’s hair. I trimmed his unruly curls into an edgy, tapered modern cut, fading the sides close while leaving the natural texture on top. Using a localized potion charm, I wove deep crimson and dark emerald iridescent streaks into the strands—invisible under normal light, but flashing brilliantly whenever the firelight caught the angles.
Twenty minutes later, Ginny emerged from the silver water, looking utterly winded, a wild, ecstatic laugh ripping from her throat. “Holy shit, Hermione! That was absolute madness! You had Voldemort’s top generals kneeling like dogs! I nearly wet myself when you told that noseless freak he was inadequate! But... what on earth are you going to do about the five potential mates?”
Before I could deflect, her eyes locked onto Harry’s new cut. “Merlin, Harry, you look brilliant! My turn, Hermione!”
As Ginny took her seat on the floor and I began sectioning her thick hair, she looked up thoughtfully. “Have you decided how to deliver those memories to Narcissa and Draco?”
“Don't worry, I’ve already taken care of it,” Harry answered, leaning back against the cushions. “During my time with the DMLE, I was Narcissa’s official probation contact. We’ve been trading private dispatches all summer. She actually helped me process the truth about the witch I told you both about before the compliance broke. I’ve already prepared the package containing Lucius’s and Tonks's memory extractions. I informed Narcissa they came from an undeniable high-court source and that the caster's identity must remain completely classified until school begins. Draco actually approached me this summer to apologize for the past—I told him I’d accept it, but if he ever breathed a cross word to Hermione again, I’d personally bury him. He took the terms. I have a distinct feeling the Malfoys are going to be heavily integrated into our circle this term.”
I finished layering the deep charcoal-black base through the top of Ginny’s hair, transitioning the mid-lengths into an ombre cascade of vibrant crimson, deep orange, and burning yellow tips—a literal crown of living fire. I flashed a quick wand charm to set the pigments instantly.
“Go take a quick rinse to clear the excess dye, you two,” I instructed, cleaning up the stray strands from the rug.
Harry stood up, stretching his arms over his head as a dangerous smirk spread across his face. “Perfect timing. My medical wrap is ready to come off anyway. I can finally drop the illusion charm over Frank and Jake's handiwork.”
I paused, looking at him skeptically. “What handiwork, Harry?”
Harry let out a dark, deep chuckle. “Mione, did you honestly think I would let you run wild through the London underground this summer without keeping an eye on you? I’ve been good friends with Frankie and Jake since before Sirius died. I was standing in the VIP balcony at the Night Raven during your cage match, completely cloaked. I was at the Gilded Cage watching your performance—nearly tore Derek’s arm off when I thought your cage apparatus was slipping. I watched a circle of five Slytherin boys nearly lose their minds watching you perform. The only places I left you entirely alone were your flat and your motorcycle rides.”
I fell back onto the floorboards, laughing hysterically until my ribs ached. Leave it to the Chosen One to run black-ops surveillance on his own sister.
Harry moved upstairs to the showers, a cackling Ginny trailing right behind him. Left alone in the quiet common room, I walked over to the grand balcony doors, stepping out into the cool night air. I sparked up a clove cigarette, watching the smoke drift toward the canopy of the Forbidden Forest.
The weight of the upcoming war pressed heavily against my chest. I closed my eyes, pushing my consciousness outward into the night sky, and whispered, “Allfather... I need a definitive anchor for the Malfoys. If I am to trust them with our circle, I need something unbreakable.”
A sudden, terrifying crack of thunder shattered the clear sky.
I opened my eyes to find Odin standing directly beside me on the stone balcony, his dark blue cloak billowing in a non-existent wind. Inside the common room, the shower doors clicked open, and Harry and Ginny scrambled down the staircase in their fresh clothes, stopping dead the moment they spotted the divine presence. Without a word, they dropped onto their knees.
Odin executed a slow, solemn wink toward me. “Rise, children. The blood-ward you carved tonight bound your souls as a sovereign Trinity—brother, sister, and shield. Because you have tethered your lifeforce to my last Valkyrie, I am bestowing my divine blessings upon your cores to ensure you survive the coming storm.”
Odin walked inside, his single eye locking onto Harry’s left arm. Harry dropped the concealment charm, exposing a magnificent, full-sleeve blackwork tattoo sprawl. Etched into his skin beneath the Deathly Hallows symbol was his sweeping stag patronus—and perched firmly upon the stag's silver antlers sat a highly detailed, majestic black Raven, while a lethal black bat swirled through the background.
Tears instantly welled in my eyes. “Harry... you didn't even know about my Raven form when you got that inked.”
Harry smiled softly, brushing a stray curl from my face. “Ever since you came into your inheritance, Mione, I started dreaming of a majestic black raven guarding my stag. The raven is you. The bat is Ginny’s legendary hex. We are a pack.”
Odin placed his heavy hands on Harry’s shoulders. “Harry Potter. You are the living Pillar of all magic. To ensure you stand as Hermione’s Shield, I am gifting you with the combined blessing of Mímisbrunnr and Gleipnir. You are now a living library of forgotten, primordial magic, and you possess the absolute authority to bind chaotic entities. I have also allocated you a sovereign mate—she is not a creature, but she will act as the spiritual filter for your overwhelming cosmic core. You must discover and claim her on your own terms.”
Turning his piercing gaze to Ginny, Odin smiled grimly. “Ginevra. I am blessing your core with the gift of the Völva—the High Sight. You will see the shifting threads of future timelines and manipulate fate to provide your Trinity with foresight. Your designated pureblood consort will act as your absolute shamanic guardian in battle, serving as a biological battery should your sight drain your vitals. Find him, and make him yours.”
Odin reached into his blue cloak, producing two ancient, pulsing silver flasks, placing them into my hands. “Hermione. These are the certified, blood-extracted memories of Lucius Malfoy’s private moments with Narcissa and Draco—moments only they would recognize as absolute truth. Attach them to Harry’s package. Hermione, I see what’s going on in your head, and I can assure you, the Malfoys and your old schoolmates on this floor can be trusted with your lives. Now, sleep. The divine gifts require complete rest to properly bind to your nervous systems.”
With a spectacular flash of silent light, the Allfather vanished from the room.
I slouched onto the leather sofa, completely exhausted but feeling a strange, intoxicating surge of absolute power humming through our new telepathic link. I looked at Harry and Ginny, holding up the Firewhisky bottle. “I don't know about you two, but I am having one last drink before bed.”
I handed Harry the Malfoy flasks. “Send these tonight, brother. Ginny, the Pensieve is loaded with my fight memories if you want to see how I heal. I am turning in.”
I marched up the stairs to my suite, closing the heavy mahogany door. The adrenaline was still humming in my veins. Needing to clear the mental static, I walked onto my private balcony, letting my human form dissolve as I called out, “Pallas.”
Shifting into the grand black raven, I launched off the stone ledge, soaring high into the cloud cover over the grounds. But the moment I reached the upper currents, that violent, instinctual pull yanked at my gut again, dragging my flight path away from Hogwarts. I blinked my dark bird eyes, and when the clouds parted, I realized I was soaring over the dark, sweeping iron gates of Malfoy Manor.
Guided by pure instinct, I spiraled down toward the manicured gardens, landing silently on a thick oak branch over the koi pond. Below me, Narcissa Malfoy was standing in a silk robe. With a sharp crack, a house-elf appeared, presenting her with Harry’s official stasis package.
I watched as Narcissa unsealed the documents, her gasp echoing through the quiet night as she immediately ordered the elf to summon her son. Ten minutes later, Draco walked out onto the terrace, his silver curls messy as he joined his mother. Together, they projected Lucius’s memories into the air.
Watching from my perch, I saw the raw, agonizing emotion rip through both of them. They held each other, sobbing softly as Lucius's final words of honor and love echoed across the grass.
It wasn't long before the rest of the boys stumbled out onto the patio. Pansy Parkinson trailed behind Theo Nott, Marcus Flint, Blaise Zabini, Lorenzo Berkshire, and the breathtakingly handsome stranger from Amie’s Club.
“Godmother, are you ok?” the dark-haired stranger called out, walking straight over to Narcissa to check on her.
“I am perfectly fine, Matteo, dear,” Narcissa lied smoothly, wiping her eyes as Draco swiftly vanished the projection. “Lucius simply left some old family accounts for Draco and me to review.”
I watched closely as Narcissa safely ushered the teenagers back inside, ensuring the perimeter was entirely clear before she stepped back out into the moonlight. She looked up, her piercing blue eyes locking directly onto my hidden branch.
“I watched you breach our ancient family wards, little raven,” Narcissa spoke softly into the dark. “An ordinary Animagus registration would have triggered the security alarms, yet the stone remained silent. My intuition tells me I am speaking to Miss Granger. Harry’s package contains things only my husband could know. I do not comprehend the magic you command, but your secret is entirely safe with me. Please... give Draco and his friends a chance this term. They are not the children who fought in the fires. If my son saw me speaking to a bird, he would have me committed to St. Mungo's.”
A soft, amused bird-chuckle escaped my beak. Deciding to trust the Allfather’s validation, I launched off the branch, landing gracefully on the marble table directly in front of her. Narcissa extended a tentative, elegant finger, running it smoothly down my feathered spine. A massive, electric shiver rippled through my core at her touch. She smiled beautifully, gently scratching the crown of my head as I affectionately nipped her knuckle.
“I sense we will become exceptionally close, darling,” Narcissa murmured. “I promised Potter I wouldn't interfere with your timeline, but there is something you must see with your own eyes. Permit me to bring you into my husband’s private study. You may depart through the terrace window the moment we are finished.”
I gave a sharp nod of my beak. Narcissa cradled me against her chest, carrying me through the dark, echoing corridors of Malfoy Manor until we entered a grand, mahogany-lined office. She locked the heavy doors, threw a heavy silencing ward over the room, and set me down on the desk.
I pushed a direct telepathic line into her mind: Will my human form trigger the manor alerts?
Narcissa’s eyes widened in shock at the voice in her head, but she quickly shook her head no.
With a fluid shimmer of shadow, I shifted back into my human form, standing before her in my black camisole and sleep shorts.
“Sweet Circe,” a booming, aristocratic voice gasped from the wall.
I snapped my head up to look at the grand gilded portrait hanging over the mantle. An older, majestic blonde-haired man was staring down at me with absolute, wide-eyed terror. “How is this possible? You look exactly like Amalia... but you haven't aged a single day since we were eighteen.”
Narcissa stood entirely frozen, her gaze darting between the portrait and my face as she reached into a secure desk drawer, pulling out an old leather folder. She flipped it open, exposing a vintage wizarding photograph resting on top.
I leaned over the desk, my breath catching. The photo depicted a young witch who looked exactly like my original, unaltered self, standing arm-in-arm with a handsome young wizard who possessed Draco’s exact structural features.
I looked up at the portrait, my jaw tightening as the pieces of my grandmother’s journal clicked into place. “Hello, Mr. Abraxas Malfoy. I am not Amalia Burke. I am her biological granddaughter, Hermione Granger.”
The portrait let out a profound, emotional sigh. “Of course you are... if you carried common blood, you wouldn’t be able to interact with me, But you called yourself Granger. The only pureblood line carrying that moniker is the lost house of Dagsworth-Granger. Tom hunted Hector relentlessly to commandeer the family vaults and potion monopolies, but the entire lineage vanished off the face of the earth, rendering the estates unplottable.”
A cold smirk touched my lips. “I know exactly where it is. My family elf located me the moment I claimed my lordship rings. I’ve modernized the entire perimeter—it is a massive coastal fortress with unplottable greenhouse biomes and a high-security creature preserve. I have officially registered it as the Dagsworth-Granger Research Institute.”
Abraxas beamed with immense pride. “You carry her exact, uncompromising fire. Tell me what your mother’s name is.”
“My mother’s full name was Jean Braxia Burke. My mother named me Hermione Jean Granger.”
The poor old man looked like he was about to cry as he said, “If you are Jean’s child... then Amalia honored our sacred covenant. She named her daughter after me, and I named my daughter after her.”
I stepped closer to the frame. “You had a daughter? Draco has a cousin? Why was she never mentioned at school?”
“Draco’s cousin is Luna Lovegood,” Narcissa answered softly, her voice laced with an old, simmering grief. “Lucius’s twin sister was Pandora Malia Malfoy. She was an extraordinary, brilliant witch who perished in a catastrophic spell backfire when the children were young. Lucius’s soul was permanently fractured when his twin died.”
The horror of the war flashed through my mind. “If Luna is Lucius’s biological niece... why the hell was she kept a prisoner in the cellars of this manor during the hunt?”
Narcissa’s expression turned utterly lethal. “Because of my deranged sister, Bellatrix, and Yaxley. They exposed the Quibbler's dispatches to Voldemort and dragged Luna here specifically to punish Lucius for his failures. Draco and I secretly smuggled nutrient potions and blankets down to her cells every night. Lucius came up from the cellars one evening, completely undone—he told me looking at Luna curled on the stone floor felt like looking at his dead twin’s corpse. He vomited blood from the sheer grief and passed out on the bathroom floor. My husband died with a thousand regrets, Miss Granger, and what his niece endured under this roof was the heaviest of them.”
Abraxas cleared his throat, his painted eyes shining. “You are the sole reigning heiress to two of the most formidable fortunes in the realm, child. It is my profound honor to finally meet you. My family executed a blood-oath with your uncle Orion Black to protect Amalia’s line forever. With how close my relationship with your grandmother was, and if the portraits in this castle are translating the alignment charts correctly... I dare say I will eventually be calling you my granddaughter.”
My breath hitched as I looked at Narcissa, who was smiling at me with an intense, knowing warmth. “Wait... Uncle Orion? Am I related to Sirius? Am I related to Draco?”
“You are blood-related to Sirius and Regulus through Orion's line,” Narcissa explained smoothly. “Your great-grandmother, Melvina Black, was Orion’s sister. But you carry absolutely no genetic relation to Draco or myself—we are related to Orion strictly by marriage. You are entirely clear to align with my son, darling.”
I cleared my throat, a sudden blush warming my neck. I raised my hand over the vintage photograph, channeling my core into a flawless, silent duplication charm. “Lucius assured me I could trust your line. I will give Draco a chance this year, but he is going to work for my trust. And as for this...” The duplicated photo instantly vanished from my palm in a shimmer of black static.
Abraxas gasped. “Dimensional storage magic! You unlocked the true, hidden Burke inheritance!”
“I sent the copy directly into my grandmother’s private journal, where it belongs,” I smirked at the portrait. “Goodbye, Narcissa. And as for you...” I winked up at the mantle. “For now, I’ll settle for calling you my adopted great-uncle.”
“Pallas.”
I shifted cleanly back into the raven, launching off the desk and flying smoothly through the open window into the night air. I swept upward past the second-story stone masonry, intending to clear the wards, when I suddenly froze.
Sitting on the wide stone ledge of a bedroom window directly above the study was Matteo Riddle. He was slouched against the frame in a leather jacket, lazily exhaling a cloud of cigarette smoke into the sky. His dark eyes locked directly onto my flying form.
“You know, if I didn't possess superior tracking instincts, I’d say you were an ordinary bird,” Matteo spoke into the dark, his voice a low, dangerously attractive baritone. “But I saw you perched in the oak tree watching my godmother. And now you just happen to fly directly out of Lucius Malfoy's private study windows.”
He leaned forward, a razor-sharp, predatory smirk pulling at his lips as he studied my wings. “I can't get a single read on your magical signature, little bird. Which means you are either a completely mundane raven... or you are an exceptionally lethal Occlumens commanding a shield more powerful than anyone gives you credit for. Don't look so panicked—I have absolutely no intention of clipping your wings to prove a theory. Fly along, little raven. I have a distinct feeling I’ll be seeing you real soon.”
The audacity of the boy was completely infuriating. He gave me a slow, deliberate wink. I let out a sharp, indignant huff of pure irritation, causing his smirk to widen as he tilted his head.
I flapped my wings violently, hovering perfectly in front of his face. With a sharp, rhythmic snapping of my feathers, I executed the exact, mocking cadence of a slow clap directly in his face, before shooting like an arrow into the upper cloud cover.
Breaking past the manor wards, I opened my core, focusing entirely on our quarters, and went flying back across the countryside.
I landed on my private balcony at Hogwarts, shifting smoothly back into my human clothes as I stepped into my bedroom. My heart was pounding—partly from the exhaustion of the flight, partly from the sheer madness of the Malfoy secrets, and partly from the lingering memory of Matteo’s dark eyes.
I walked to the door, calling out softly into the corridor, “Dinky! If you are within the castle walls, hear my call and come to me.”
With a sharp pop, a tiny female house-elf materialized on the rug. She was wearing a brilliantly stylish black tulle tutu, a green and black bandana top, and miniature black leather combat boots. She let out a loud squeal of absolute delight, launching her tiny body forward to hug my ankles.
“Mistress Hermione! Oh, how Dinky has missed you!” the elf cried happily, her large eyes shining. “You look like a total badass warrior woman now, mistress! Dinky loves the look!”
I chuckled warmly, lifting the tiny elf onto the chair. Dinky and her late brother, Dobby, had been our secret lifelines since third year. After Dobby’s tragic passing, he had sent his widow, Winky, and Dinky into deep hiding to protect Winky’s pregnancy.
“Thank you, Dinky. I love your style too,” I smiled softly. “But we need to get to work. I need you to immediately fetch Madam Pomfrey and bring her back via the private Floo. Tell her I require an essential maintenance booster. On your way back, stop by Harry’s room next door and bring him along. He needs to see you.”
Dinky gave a sharp nod and vanished with a pop. Within five minutes, a sleepy-looking Harry walked through my connecting door, followed closely by Poppy, who immediately set up a minor, baseline nutrient line to stabilize my core levels after the heavy flight.
“You need to get on a rigid, daily intake routine, child,” Pomfrey scolded gently as she adjusted the line. “Treat your biological blood intake like a morning coffee or tea. Full transfusions are for high-tier depletion. Once your mates are active, drawing from their cores will keep your Valkyrie essence entirely unmatched.”
Dinky stood by the hearth, her large ears twisting in pure confusion. “Mistress... why didn't you tell Dinky your magic was hurting? Dinky could have helped!”
“I am perfectly fine, little one,” I reassured her softly. “There are massive pieces of my history that you don't know yet. Just wait until Poppy finishes, and Harry and I will explain everything.”
Once Madam Pomfrey verified my levels were entirely stable, she packed her equipment and promised to link our suite hearths directly to the hospital wing grid for rapid deployment. “Get some sleep, children. Goodnight.”
The moment the doors clicked shut, Harry crossed his arms, his green eyes narrowing with a knowing intensity. “You went straight to Malfoy Manor, didn't you?”
I let out a soft sigh, resting my head against the chair. “I didn't intend to, Harry. I went out for a fly to clear my head, and my core literally dragged me across the veil. I watched Narcissa receive your package. I watched them view the memories. And then... the entire core group walked out onto the terrace.” I ticked off my fingers. “Draco, Theo Nott, Marcus Flint, Blaise Zabini, Lorenzo Berkshire, Pansy Parkinson... and Matteo Riddle.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “How do you know Matteo's name?”
“I heard him speak to Narcissa. He is her godson,” I replied, shivering slightly as I remembered his window ledge. “They are all staying the night there before taking the train tomorrow. But that isn't all, Harry. Look who returned to us.”
With a sharp pop, Dinky materialized on the table, carrying a silver tray loaded with chamomile tea and fresh biscuits.
Harry froze, his gaze locking onto the tiny elf as his voice shook. “Dinky... how is Winky? Where are the elflings?”
Dinky’s eyes went completely wide. “How does Master Harry know about Winky and the babies?”
“Dobby told me right before he died in my arms,” Harry said softly, kneeling by the table. “He said he sent them into hiding, but I couldn't find them after the battle.”
“That is because Dobby was brilliant,” Dinky wiped a tear from her cheek. “Dobby found out Mistress Hermione’s parents' house sat completely empty and protected by heavy spells. He hid Winky and the babies there. We watched Death Munchers try to break the doors for months and fail. When we realized the war was over and Dobby was gone, we left the house and came to Hogwarts. Winky is currently downstairs in the kitchens trying to gather scraps for the elflings.”
I exchanged a profound, silent look with Harry through our telepathic link: Dobby gave his life for us. His family is our family. We protect them.
Harry nodded fiercely. I turned to the tiny elf, my expression turning immensely serious. “Dinky... look at me. I am not a Muggle-born. I am the true, blood-descended granddaughter of Amalia Burke and the great-granddaughter of Hector Dagsworth-Granger. I carry the total wealth of both ancestral lines. Harry and I made a solemn promise after Dobby died that we would find his family and bind you all to our lines as free, highly compensated partners—not servants. I want you to go down to the kitchens, tell Winky the truth in total absolute secrecy, and bring her and the elflings directly to this room tomorrow night. We are going to build a paradise for them at the estates.”
Dinky burst into a flood of emotional tears, nodding furiously before vanishing with a sharp pop to deliver the lifeline to her sister.
Harry let out a long breath, stretching his back. “Well... that is one more anchor secured. Are you finally ready to sleep, sister? We have a monumental day tomorrow.”
I yawned, the chamomile tea finally dragging my eyelids down as the exhaustion took over. “Yes, Harry. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Mione,” he smiled, stepping back into his room and securing the connecting latch.
I walked over to the grand balcony doors, ensuring the locking mechanisms were secure, before throwing myself onto the massive four-poster bed. As I drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep, my final thought drifted to the Golden Hall, the burning runes on the landing, and the dark, predatory eyes of Matteo Riddle watching me from the shadows of the manor.