Tom, the barman, busied himself putting away shot glasses. The Leaky Cauldron was not particularly busy at this time of day. The lunch rush was over and the after work crowd had yet to arrive. Still, the pub enjoyed some business. An older couple sat at a table near the door, and a group of Aurors sat chatting at the bar. In the back booth a middle-aged witch waited, casually reading a book on spell casting.
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Hermione Granger could hardly wipe the silly smile off of her face. She had not felt this giddy in quite some time. She had hardly felt like smiling since the murder of her headmaster and the knowledge that her world had been forever changed. But today, just for today, Hermione let herself feel excited.
This is perfect, she thought, as she read the owl again:
Miss Granger,
Your extraordinary talent with charms has come to my attention recently. I would like to share a cup of tea with you and discuss your career after Hogwarts. I will be in London tomorrow, staying at the Leaky Cauldron. I will be free at three in the afternoon. If you would be able to join me for tea, please send by return owl right away.
Magically yours,
Miranda Goshawk
Hermione could not believe her luck. She had the chance to meet the woman who wrote The Standard Book of Spells and possibly work with her. Incredible! She had planned a trip to Diagon Alley anyway to purchase new dress robes for Bill and Fleur’s wedding. She left Madame Malkin’s humming her favorite tune and carrying a bag containing new lime green summer robes. She made her way past Flourish and Bott’s and Honeydukes without stopping, and promised herself that she would visit Fred and George after tea.
Upon reaching the pub, Hermione took a deep breath and tried to comport an attitude of upmost seriousness as she opened the door. Once inside, she inquired about Ms. Goshawk. Tom pointed to the aging witch in the corner.
Hermione walked over to the very private table where she found a round woman who appeared to be just a little bit younger than Professor McGonagall. Her graying auburn hair was in a tight bun and she was a bit portly. Her eyes met Hermione’s and she smiled warmly as she put down the book of spells that she was reading.
“Miss Granger, we meet at last,” said the old woman, her cobalt eyes dancing merrily. “Please have a seat.”
Hermione Granger was not at a loss for words.
“Oh, Ms. Goshawk, I am so pleased to meet you! I must have read all of your books at least twenty times cover to cover.” Hermione felt herself gushing and the older witch smiled.
“Dear, let me take your hand,” squeaked Miranda Goshawk, extending her left hand to Hermione.
Without hesitation, Hermione reached for the older woman, but as soon as she touched Miranda Goshawk’s hand, Hermione felt herself being pulled far away from Diagon Alley.
When the world stopped spinning, Hermione found herself in a bright cottage, sunlight filling the entire room. It was a library of sorts. Potted plants, light buttercup yellow walls, chocolate furniture with crimson and emerald accent pillows, and shelves with books and trinkets filled the space. It seemed to be late morning.
This must be her home, Hermione thought as she watched Miranda Goshawk wrinkle her nose, as Nymphadora Tonks would do to change her appearance, and become a much younger, comely witch. Hermione felt her jaw drop and she reached for her wand only to find it already flying toward the other woman.
Gone was her feeling of glee. Her brown eyes burned as she tried to stop tears from sprouting. Hermione felt stupid, especially idiotic. She should have been looking for a trap. Voldemort was probably using her to catch Harry.
“While I can assure you, Miss Granger, that Voldemort does indeed like to use people for his own gains, he would not reside in a place this cheery.” Miranda Goshawk, or the witch that had been her, spoke in a smoother voice and looked quite pleased with herself.
Hermione stared in disbelief that witch read my mind. It was then that she completely observed her surroundings and realized that they were not alone. Seated next to a large bay window on a pillow-topped sofa were Draco Malfoy and a woman Hermione recognized to be his mother.
Draco spoke before she could, “What is that filthy-”
“Don’t say it,” the woman who had been Goshawk spat at him, “Draco, don’t even think it. You either, Cissy. We are approaching the 21st century and your pureblood attitudes are so outdated; I would have thought by now you would realize that those attitudes will get you killed. Besides, being pure isn’t everything is it, Severus?”
Hermione turned behind her and saw her former professor reclining behind her in an easy chair, a book resting on his lap.
“You!” Hermione found her voice quite loud, “You, you, vile, evil boy tried to kill, and, and, and you, you disgusting beady-eyed monster, you killed”
A loud popping sound interrupted her. “Miss Granger, no one has been killed.”
Hermione turned slowly. She knew the gentle voice but she couldn’t believe her own eyes. Albus Dumbledore was standing before her. No longer could she fight the tears. Forgetting all pride, she rushed to give him a hug.
“There, there,” he patted her on the back and turned to the witch who brought her there. “I take it, Richelle, that you haven’t yet explained our situation to Miss Granger.”
Hermione pulled away from her headmaster and looked back at the woman he called Richelle.
“No, Albus, I haven’t yet. But I will after I set some parameters.” Hermione saw her looking at each person in this room. “First, you all need to know that Albus and I feel Miss Granger is our best choice as an Order contact. She has proven to be trustworthy and her skills are exceptional as is her ability to keep a secret even from her dearest friends. Secondly, Miss Granger, you need to know who I am.”
Hermione stood straight, bracing herself for the words to come.
“My name is Richelle Bowen,” the flaxen-haired witch continued. “I have been hiding from Voldemort and believed to be dead for the past eighteen years. That man you were hugging is my uncle. That ‘vile, evil boy’ is my brother’s son, and the ‘beady-eyed monster,’” she hesitated for just a moment, “is my husband.”
Hermione’s eyes couldn’t have gotten larger, and, as she looked at the other faces in the room, she realized that Richelle’s words had surprised them too. Snape’s lips actually threatened to smile.
“Husband?” Narcissa queried feebly.
“Cissy, I will tell you more later, but I will say that I married Severus nearly twenty years ago; we kept it hidden for various reasons.” Hermione saw the Richelle glance at Snape before she continued. “Miss Granger, frankly, we need your help. As you can see, Albus is alive. He was never dead and Severus did not kill him. However, we need for the rest of the wizarding world to think that he has gone to the great beyond.”
Fighting to keep her jaw from dropping, Hermione looked to the other faces. Clearly they understood more than she did.
“I know you have many questions dear, and I promise that they will be answered in time. But today our time is quite limited so I will give you the most vital information now.”
Relief and a bit of excitement began to ebb over Hermione. “I’m listening.”
“With Albus ‘dead’ Voldemort is more likely to make errors, making it easier to for Mr. Potter to do what he must do.” Richelle lowered her gaze and raised her brows. “We can guide Mr. Potter, but we cannot compromise our secret. Draco, Narcissa, Severus, Albus, and I must remain ‘dead’ for the time being. In this state, however, we cannot help Harry at all. That is where you come in.”
Hermione’s eyes widened.
“We need a contact within the Order, and we would like it to be you.”
Hermione nodded. Her heart was beating so fast and she felt her face relax and her lips curl into a smile. She had wanted to help the Order for a long time and felt honored to be chosen for any task. Her voice, however was stuck in her throat.
“I have enchanted a necklace that we can use to communicate,” Richelle continued. “Only you and I can use them, Hermione; that is important for you to understand. I also have a Portkey that I designed to always bring you back to this location. It is a charm bracelet and it will only work to your touch.”
“So the secret of your location remains safe. Brilliant!” Hermione studied this woman Richelle and gazed into her hypnotic silver eyes. She was ecstatic by the challenge of this task.
Richelle smile and continued. “A true Gryffindor, Albus, a true one indeed! She is the perfect choice. Will you agree to it Hermione?” Richelle’s tone was expectant and exultant.
“However I can help, I would be honored,” Hermione proclaimed, beaming with confidence. She could even stand being in the room with Snape and Malfoy now. Her curiosity peaked, she looked forward to finding out more about this Richelle. Hermione couldn’t help but wonder about her.
“Well, let’s get you back to the Leaky Cauldron before people start asking questions.” Richelle was smiling now, her silver eyes dancing. “And yes, dear girl, I did write all of those books and one day, over a proper cup of tea, I will tell you exactly what I saw in him.”
Hermione was incredulous that the witch knew what she was thinking.
“In the meantime, Hermione,” Richelle continued, “you need to look for the real locket at the residence of Sirius Black. Also, there is a room on the seventh floor at Hogwarts,” she paused again, “I see that you know it! Very well, Ravenclaw’s tiara is hidden there. Have Harry take care of those before your venture to Godric’s Hollow.”
“How did you know?” Hermione was perplexed.
“Dear, you need someone in the Order to teach you Occulumency.” Richelle chortled.
Hermione hugged Albus Dumbledore once again before using the Portkey to return her to the Leaky Cauldron. She arrived feeling so elated, that upon seeing the mournful looks on the patrons’ faces, she felt a since of guilt that she could not share her good news with the world. But, she told herself, someday soon, they will all know the truth. She collected herself, tried to feign a more stoic countenance, and was off on a quest for new robes and a visit with her favorite twins.
“How and I going to get Harry to look for the locket and tiara without revealing too much?” she whispered to herself, as she meandered down the cobblestone streets toward 93 Diagon Alley, Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezies.
Preview of the last chapter:
“Severus, I just have a few more things to say.”
He sighed. Frankly, he did not want to hear any more.
R.A.B. and the Beginning of the End by Wicked Wench
Chapter Notes: This is my favorite chapter in this mini-fic. Hermione Granger is brought into the plot and it features the return of our favorite Headmaster.