Chapter Text
Hermione couldn't stand it.
People had an incessant need to meet them, see them, to touch the members of the Golden Trio. As the Wizarding World rebuilt itself after the fall of the Dark Lord at the Battle of Hogwarts, the image of the teenagers that carried an entire country on their shoulders and delivered them from evil was a story too epic to ignore. The Ministry, now led by Kingsley Shacklebolt, gladly used that symbolism to their advantage and promoted their images as a symbol of hope. Of progress. Of freedom.
He wisely offered them instant positions as Aurors in his administration, bypassing the arduous entrance examinations and field practicals to gain that position; after all, they weren't just war heroes; they were saviors. Ron and Harry gladly took the opportunity to bypass their last year of school and rigorous admission tests necessary for placement in Auror training.
Only Hermione chose to return to school and finish her studies.
Laughing, the three of them joked that only Hermione would have passed the Auror entrance examination, anyway.
She secretly hoped the public’s attention would die down soon. Of the three, only Hermione seemed truly uncomfortable with the attention; she hated her lack of anonymity now. Before, she would be often disregarded as a mudblood, left to her business to roam the bookstores without a second glance.
Those days were long gone. Eyes that would once pass over her indifferently, perhaps noticing her emerging beauty from time to time in the past, were now replaced with obsessive, devoted eyes that followed her everywhere. People behaved totally differently towards her and the other two famous war veterans nowadays.
Crowds would form if any of them were caught out in public doing even the most mundane of tasks. Quiet voices quickly became shouts as strangers jockeyed to garner their respective attentions. People would nervously fidget if they were in a room and the amount of people that stalked them was now becoming ridiculous. The Ministry of Magic had to put 24/7 Auror protection on the Weasley homestead and Grimmauld Place, for example, to protect the "Golden Trio" from their rabid following. Piles of fan mail from the hundreds of owls that arrived daily to the Burrow were taking up Bill's old room, entirely; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were constantly putting up enchantments to enlarge the room, to little avail. She was waiting to bring her parents back from Australia and restore their memories until all this crap died down.
It was natural when folks from the war started huddling in tight knit groups , because of the trauma they had all survived. It was hard to explain to those outside the experience. Despite her close friends from the war, Hermione often fought off feeling lonely. Furthering this gap, Ron and Harry were changing...not just because of the fame, but also, because they were getting ready to transition to the next phase of their life, and she was staying back.
XOXOXOXOXO
Amid this swirl of melancholy emotions, Hermione found herself one late summer afternoon trying, half-heartedly, to plug in with Luna and Ginny. Hermione was again feeling stuck as though she was there.. but not really there. She listened, as Ginny announced she was going through Hermione's fan mail. Ginny snickered as she read a few letters aloud to her best friend.
"Hey 'Mione! You have another proposal here...a Duke from Scotland. He would like a meeting immediately."
Hermione snorted. "Yeah, that's happening."
"Did you see the Daily Prophet today?" Luna asked.
“You know I don't read that rag."
"You should. You're in it, every day, you know." Ginny teased.
"Precisely why I don't read it. I like actual news in my newspapers." The brunette retorted.
"Well," Continued Luna dreamily, "It said that 'Hermione' is the most common name given to female infants this summer."
Hermione rolled her eyes, glancing out the window. As she maneuvered her wand through her fingers, she paused. Her gaze moved from the familiar grounds outside to the wand she was holding aloft in her hand.
A wand that had once belonged to another witch, and became hers by default when her own wand was lost.
A wand who’s former owner was a witch just as intelligent and daring as its current owner. However, the wand’s previous owner was one who was radically different from Hermione in the application of her brilliance.
It was an interesting analogy, really; Hermione's original wand was made of vine wood, and despite Ollivander’s excellent craftsmanship of that wand, she never felt totally comfortable with the vine wand itself. In contrast, the wand she now carried was made of an ancient walnut, and was absolutely unyielding. Despite the horrors it had committed in the past, and despite Hermione's initial squeamishness in holding it when it first came into her possession, the wand now felt right.
Her wand had once belonged to Bellatrix Black, nee Lestrange, mistress of the dark.
It would seem ironic that it was now owned by the epitome of good, Hermione Jean Granger.
XOXXOXO
Flashback: 1991
“Ah, Miss Granger, is it? Let me get a look at you, my dear,” The kindly wandmaster said with a twinkle in his eye.
His appraising eye left the muggleborn girl very nervous, and her new acquaintance, Professor McGonagall, gave her a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder.
“I assure you, Miss Granger, Mr. Ollivander is the absolute best at providing students with the wands they need to function optimally with their inner magical cores. He has a very accurate eye.” She patted Hermione’s shoulder gently.
“Okay, Professor.” Hermione said, quietly. She looked up at the counter, and gave the shop owner a determined nod.
He regarded her, murmuring. “Hmm.” He mused. “Your core is…unusual. But what it pairs with is obvious. Clear as day, I suspect.”
A troubled look fell across his face, as his gaze sought out the Professor. They exchanged a knowing look as he announced Hermione’s rather unusual core.
“I have only used this one other time in my recent memory. You’ll have a bit of a wait, unfortunately, as I will have to craft your wand. I need to create a wand with a core of…” he swallowed.
“...dragon heartstring.”
XOXOXOXOXO
The “rules of life” would soon play out for the Golden Trio.
The first rule of life was one regarding fame. Those who crave fame for the wrong reasons will watch it slip through their hands like sand at the beach. In contrast, those who become famous because of who they are will have that recognition returned, in spades.
Three sentinel events would illustrate this first rule, in regards to the Golden Trio, in rather quick succession
The first was Ron's initial Auror-in-training raid done by the Ministry in a foreign land near The Durmstrang Institute for Magical Learning. Intel suggested they were stockpiling weapons of mass destruction to use against them and they were doing surveillance of the area to determine who was providing the rare materials mined to make the core of the weapons.
Ron missed his mark, and using the wrong spell in retreat, alerted the enemy to their presence. In the firefight that ensued, three Aurors died that day. Normally, that would have been written off as a "rookie" mistake; unfortunately the Golden Trio was not allowed such luxuries. Without Hermione's discipline, Ron had only half-heartedly studied the Protocols and Procedures Handbook, and had screwed up. Worse, his utter lack of public remorse or apology was disconcerting. Even Kinsley's diplomatic skills weren't able to recover the brief truce that
the two regions had enjoyed following the demise of Voldemort.
Ron fucked up, on an international scale.
XOXOXOXO
The second event was not quite as dramatic.
It involved the Boy Who Lived. Harry, to his credit, was not as obviously consumed by the fame monster as Ron, but it was impossible for it not be be woven into the fabric of his life, given he was the actual Chosen One. Harry was an exceptional Auror, and after Ron's debacle, he worked even harder.
However, he did acquiesce to interviews and publicity, and even enjoyed the perks occasionally of being so famous. Getting reservations at nice restaurants for himself and Ginny was hardly a crime. Harry’s interviews were of such interest to the public that it created an entire new industry for the wizarding community: interviews with a paid audience present. It quickly became lucrative and Harry found himself contracted for one every two weeks, which nicely supplemented his Auror income.
One day, during one of these paid interviews with the newest Rita Skeeter wannabe, he was taken in by her mindless flattery and didn't notice her slipping something into his water prior to showtime.
He felt a little off at the start of the interview.
The Rita Skeeter Knock-Off smiled. "So, Harry, you certainly were brave, facing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, weren't you?"
"I tried to be."
"Brilliant how you found all the now infamous horcruxes, wasn't it?"
"| suppose."
"You've told the story in the past how you concluded where they were. Is that true that you figured it out?"
"No."
"No? No, What?"
"Well, uh...I didn't figure it out. Hermione did."
"Hermione. That would be Hermione Granger, the female member of the Golden Trio?”
"Yes."
“So, that was not you, who planned this?”
“Er…no. No. It was Hermione.”
A small gasp was heard in the audience.
The blond interviewer had a sickly-sweet grin slide across her face, as she cooed, “Helpful to have someone so smart, behind the scenes. She was called the brightest witch of her age, yes?”
Harry nodded, in confirmation. “Yes. Ron and I would have probably failed out of Hogwarts without her help.”
More rumbling from the audience, and looks of confusion. Harry nervously looked around at the audience's shocked expressions.
"What else did she plan for you three, in the takedown of the Dark Lord?”
"Well, everything, really.”
"And yourself and Ron Weasley took credit for it."
"Well, well...yes. The execution of the plan, certainly."
She leaned forward, meaningfully. “But she was the brains, correct? She planned everything.”
“Um,” Harry was clearly beginning to realize what had happened to him. “Yes. She planned it all, mostly.”
A larger gasp went through the audience, as Harry turned red.
"But, you were the one who fought Voldemort in the end, right?"
"Yes.”
"And you did an excellent job, Harry. Well done."
A polite round of clapping, with some whistling, broke out amongst the studio audience.
She waited for the applause to die down, before resuming. "Not many people would have thought you could survive the killing curse a second time, Harry." The interviewer squinted her eyes. "Use of the Priori Incantatem, where the caster and his opponent's wands and spells are locked together, it saved you! Very usual. How did you get the idea to do this?"
Harry looked glumly at the interviewer.
"Hermione.” He replied. “She gave me the idea. Hermione knew it would work."
Harry realized, albeit too late, that this horrible person had slipped veritasium into his drink before showtime. He couldn't do anything but tell the truth, and the whole truth.
He would survive the interview, but a little bit of the gold was tarnished.
XOXOXOXOX
The final event took place as summer came to a close, and Harry's interview and Ron's professional debacle were fresh on everyone's mind.
Ginny, Luna, and Hermione were making their way, slowly, through the crowds in Diagon Alley to buy the books and material needed for their last year.
Ginny and Luna flanked their friend, guarding her from the growing crowds and probing stares and questions from eager on-lookers.
“Hermione! Hermione! Why are you going back to school? Why aren’t you an Auror?”
“Can you sign my ‘History of Hogwart’s’ book, Hermione?”
Some of the bolder onlookers wolf-whistled, a few yelled, "glad you dumped that git, Ron Weasley!"
Hermione gently put her hand on Ginny's shoulder as she winced at that one.
"Don't let them bother you, Gin. They’re prats, the whole lot of them." She whispered.
"Yeah, but they're right. That's painful." She hissed back. "He is an idiot, sometimes."
Amid the distraction, unnoticed by the random bystanders, was the stealth arrival of seven incoming soldiers flying overhead, on what looked like a cross between a broom and a muggle bobsled. They were covered head to toe in some kind of body armor that had an orange metallic hue to it.
That inattention all changed with the first explosion.
Bolts of laser fire started shooting from the broom sleds, detonating buildings as they exploded. Diagon Alley quickly deteriorated into utter chaos, with screaming everywhere and unrelenting attacks. Wizards cast spell after spell upwards at the infiltrators, only to have them deflected off the unusual metal alloy. Injured wizards were falling amid panicked screams of help, and multiple fires broke out and destruction to property mounted.
Amid the chaos, only one wizard kept their head. She stood, unmoving, with her eyes fixed upwards, observing.
The flying machines are doing all of the assaulting, she thought to herself. The pilots themselves aren't casting a single spell!
In the confusion of this surprise attack, that detail was easy to miss. As one of the enemy craft flew overhead she quickly dodged the incoming fire while noting details of the construction of the aircraft.
Huh...they're not unlike muggle transport vehicles, she mused. Her mind raced to the construction design of a few prototype hovercrafts she had seen, and she raised her wand to cast her first spell.
"Everyone's tried to jinx them, Hermione!" Yelled an onlooker. "They're invincible!"
"I'm not everyone,” Hermione replied. “I'm not jinxing ... them.”
Out of nowhere, a familiar voice spoke in her head. Don't just stun it, Hermione, choke it. Choke the intake.
Hermione nodded. Without thinking, the magic flowed from her body, out the length of the bent Dragon Heartstring wand. Hermione commanded, "Fumos duo arenae! Oxygenium nox!" Two beams of light shot out simultaneously from the brunette's wand, a torrent of a red and a brilliant blue spell hitting the flying craft overhead, dead center. Hermione quickly looked around for the other invaders. She followed with a furious volley, casting this combination of spells upwards in unrelenting succession, at the others.
It was utter chaos, but Hermione managed to silence the explosion. She quickly assessed the damage and prompted shell-shocked bystanders to grab hold of the dismounted riders. Before the healers or the ministry officials, could move in to take control of the situation from the Golden Girl, it was the Paparazzi were swarming all over her, first.
"Are going to go work for the Ministry now as a result?"
"How did you cast seven spells at the same time?"
"Golden Girl! Were you scared?"
Hermione just ignored them, as always.
XOXOXO
In the retelling of the story, it would often be exaggerated. There were multiple rumors that Hermione cast seven different spells at once, when in reality it was only two.
Two, however, is a difficult enough feat on its own, without embellishment. It is unclear how she stopped them, exactly, but what she explained later is that she essentially caused a sand plug to enter the front of the air intake of the flying vehicles, while the second spell sucked the air out of the rear exhaust. In effect, she "plugged" the airway and "choked" what air remained out of the motor. This caused the aircraft to malfunction. The vehicles stopped abruptly, violently dismounting their riders, who were then quickly subdued by the onlookers below.
It later came out that multiple guerilla assaults had been made concurrently all over England that day. However, only the attack at Diagon Alley was effectively repelled; it was the only event that did not result in bystander casualties and allowed the mysterious enemy to be brought down and captured for questioning. While the Ministry worked around the clock gathering Intel on the multiple assaults, the legend of Hermione Granger grew.
XOXOXOXXOXO
A few days later at home, Ginny looked at the pensive brunette in front of her with some awe. Ginny had completed her final trip for a very specific Hermione-requested quill, and the redhead was unloading the last of the Golden Girl's school supplies in their shared room. While unpacking, Ginny finally asked the question of her best friend.
"How did you cast two spells, 'Mione?"
Hermione sighed. "I don't know. I did I think I had some…help.”
"Help?"
Quickly Hermione shook her head.
"Forget I said that. Forget .... it. Look, Gin, no offense, but I'm really tired, and I think I'd like to go to bed now.”
Ginny recognized Hermione’s sudden change of mood. "Oh...okay. Well, goodnight then, 'Mione."
Hermione was already looking out her window, barely acknowledging the redhead's retreat to her own side of the room. She closed her eyes, taking in the silence, acknowledging finally what she knew in her heart to be true. After a minute, Hermione spoke, to no one in particular.
"Thank you, Bellatrix." She said softly.
The voice in her head replied. No problem...It was my pleasure, Puppy.
Hermione sighed, rubbing the side of her wand, for comfort.
TBC