The Ritual by frostdog1986 (Ao3)
Chapter 1Notes:For the sake of plot and creating an initially more tense atmosphere at Hogwarts, which forced Hermione to take drastic measures to seek protection, I had to swap some events. So the attack on Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick takes place shortly after Halloween, before Quidditch match and the Dueling Club.
Chapter TextWarning! Before reading the fic, please read all the tags and warnings above carefully. Also note this is complete fiction, written for fun. If you don't like it, don't read it. The author does not support sexual relationships involving minors in the real world. If you are unable to distinguish reality from fiction, please close this fic immediately and seek professional help.
"Damn it!" Quietly cursing, Hermione forcefully slammed another ancient tome, which turned out to be just as useless as the two dozen previous ones, and rubbed her pulsating temples.
In her normal state, she would never have handled a book – any book – so carelessly, but today she was far from her usual state. In fact, she was quite annoyed, and even more confused by the fact that for the first time in her life she could not find the information she needed in the depths of the library.
For a week now, she, Harry and Ron sat every evening, buried up to their ears in dusty pages, and tried to find there at least something that would help against the mysterious Heir of Slytherin, who, it seemed, was seriously intent to exterminate all the Mudbloods in Hogwarts.
When the news that "The Chamber of Secrets has been opened again" appeared on the wall of the corridor, many at first thought it was some kind of joke. Ominous, of course, and not very funny, but still nothing more than humor, quite in the spirit of some Slytherin students (for example, most Gryffindors were firmly convinced that this was the work of Malfoy, who was now almost glowing with happiness and openly threatened Hermione and other Muggle-borns at every meeting). However, it is one thing to freeze the caretaker's cat, and quite another to attack a student, so much so that he ends up in the hospital wing, and not alone, but together with a ghost who also suffered from an unknown curse. As a result, both of them, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Almost Headless Nick, literally turned into statues, and no one, not even the professors, knew why.
From that day on, the atmosphere in the castle changed dramatically. The former lightness and feeling of a fairy tale disappeared, students now tried to walk everywhere in groups, and no one felt completely safe anymore. Even the rational and skeptical Hermione, despite all her outward calm, could not shake the feeling that someone or something was watching her everywhere she went, patiently waiting for her to take one wrong step...
Tired of constantly feeling this invisible, hateful gaze on the back of her head, she turned to the only source of problem solving that had never let her down before, a book wisdom, but even here she was disappointed. It seemed that no spell or potion known to mankind was powerful enough to petrify a ghost that was already dead.
It was a real dead end, Hermione was now forced to admit it. This is how, pray tell, you order to defend yourself from a threat, without knowing what this threat is?!
Fighting the urge to hit the innocent book, the girl turned her frustrated and tired gaze to her companions. Harry, looking drowsy, mechanically flipped through the pages, clearly not understanding a single line, and Ron had been snoring on top of his pile for a long time, drooling.
"Wonderful! Both are pureblood wizards and need not be afraid, since the Heir is only targeting Muggle-borns!" As soon as Hermione thought so, she immediately felt ashamed. Her friends did not abandon her and tried to help as best they could. It's not their fault that both come from ancient wizarding families, unlike her.
Hermione was never ashamed of her origins. Moreover, until last year, she had no idea that she actually had some kind of pre-established status or that somewhere in the world there still existed such ossified communities that judge a person not by his talents or character, but on such a stupid crazy thing as the "purity" of blood.
But, as it turned out, in the magical world, blood meant everything, not only in the theoretical, but also in the most practical sense. From brewing potions to ancient runes, wherever the most powerful or simply highly specialized magic was required, blood often played a key role and directly or indirectly influenced the final result of the magic.
Theoretically, Hermione already knew that there was even such a witchcraft that she would never be able to master simply because her blood was not strong enough. Such sections included, first of all, ancestral magic, as well as some types of artifacts and even medicine. Almost everything that, in one way or another, related to blood magic was an inaccessible zone for her due to her "can't spells" origin.
It was unpleasant to realize, but in the offensive words of Draco Malfoy and his supporters there was still a grain of truth. Hermione Granger, the smartest student in her class according to most professors, with all her knowledge, strength and abilities, still remained just a Mudblood, and therefore a vulnerable and second-rate creature in the magical world.
"If only I could somehow change this..."
It was a dream that Hermione did not admit to anyone, not even herself, because saying so would be like betraying her family, whom she loved very much.
And yet... What if she had at least one, albeit very distant, magical relative? But this was completely impossible... In her first year at Hogwarts, Hermione tested this by going through a lot of old newspapers and books on magical genealogy, because she was secretly a little obsessed with the idea of finding as many connections as possible between herself and the new world she found herself in, but everything it turned out to be in vain. By now she knew for certain that she was the only witch in her family for at least the last four hundred years.
Sighing heavily, she looked back at her friends. Ron even began to smack his lips in his sleep, as if he was dreaming of something pleasant, like a feast in the Great Hall, and Harry's glasses had completely slipped down to the tip of his nose and threatened to fall off, but the boy was too sleepy to notice it.
"It's all useless," Hermione realized. If there was a way to deal with the Heir's problem, they were clearly looking in the wrong place or approaching the issue from the wrong angle...
Mindlessly, her gaze slid over Harry's face again until she came across his famous lightning scar, the mark of a repelled Killing Curse.
Suddenly she felt like an electric shock:
"Eureka!"
Harry's mother also came from a Muggle family, but somehow she still managed to cast a blood spell powerful enough to protect her son and destroy one of the most feared Dark Lords in history! Or at least that was one of the most common theories about why Harry was able to survive the attack of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in the first place.
Who knows, perhaps the key factor in this case was that by that time Lily was no longer an Evans, she was a Potter, which means she belonged to an ancient magical family by right of the wife of James Potter... Not that this particular option suited Hermione. However, there was probably more than one way to become a member of whose then family, besides marriage, right?
Enlightened by a new idea and hope, Hermione sent the boys back to the tower, which they were incredibly happy about, and she rushed to the Family Magic section. A few more hours before lights out were spent leafing through volumes on magical adoption and introduction into the family.
The necessary answer was found in "Traditions and Rituals of the Magic Clans of Scotland." It described a slightly vague, but seemingly quite simple ritual that would allow one to introduce a strong Muggle-born witch into a fading magical family. All that was required was a male heir from the host family. Plus, it was necessary to brew a potion of the level of N.E.W.T., but Hermione believed that she could handle it, and therefore, to celebrate, she immediately copied the recipe.
She just needed to ask one of her friends to help, and that was it!
Chapter 2Chapter TextOf course, upon hearing Hermione's request, both boys immediately agreed to her plan, and since Harry was better suited due to the requirements of the ritual, they decided that he would become Hermione's "magical guardian."
"To tell the truth, I always dreamed of having a brother or sister. I will be very glad if you become my family, Hermione," saying this, Harry blushed slightly from his confession, and when his best friend emotionally threw herself on his neck and even left a kiss on his cheek, he was completely embarrassed.
The potion required for the ritual was brewed and infused for several weeks, strictly in accordance with the movement of celestial bodies. Since no one could predict at what point the Heir would strike again, the choice fell on the nearest convenient date for the ritual, November 27, the day of the convergence of Venus, Neptune, Uranus and the Moon* (if at the beginning of this year someone had told Hermione that in her search, she would rely on such a frivolous, from her point of view, source as astrology, she would have laughed in the face of the joker, but now she didn't laugh at all). Unable to find a better place, the three Gryffindors settled in an abandoned girls' toilet, which, in addition to spiders and dust, was also home to the ghost of Moaning Myrtle. Fortunately, most of the time it just howled in the corner and wasn't particularly interested in what the students were doing, so Hermione could calmly concentrate on her work.
Everything was going great until it was time to add midnight dust of the seven roads and dried winged bluegill scales, two of the most expensive and rare ingredients on the list, and also not entirely legal. Only certified Potions Masters had access to them, and as luck would have it for Hermione, Professor Snape was one of them. The matter remained small, it requested a burglary, for which they could all be killed or, even worse, expelled.
As a result, they almost got caught. Never before in her life, including exams and last year's obstacle course tests, had Hermione been so scared, but at the same time so excited. When the theft ended successfully, and the danger of being caught and quartered on the spot was left behind, she was forced to admit to herself that somewhere, deep, deep inside, she might be a bad girl...
Having measured out the required number of ounces of midnight dust, Hermione poured it evenly into the cauldron and stirred it sixty-nine times counterclockwise. Once the potion had turned the desired shade of purple, she waited another three and a half minutes and added a few grains of ground bluegill scales, constantly watching the surface of the liquid so as not to miss the moment when the liquid began to boil away.
Continuing to move the ladle evenly, the girl once again carefully re-read the recipe, which she had already learned by heart. There were a couple of specific ingredients that bothered her, but not at all because of their inaccessibility... In fact, getting them was as easy as shelling pears, they didn't even need to visit the pharmacy or, much less, rob the potions professor again. Simply, to complete the potion, it was necessary to add exactly thirteen and a half drops of the menstrual blood of a virgin witch wishing to enter the clan, and twenty-eight drops of the seed of the heir of that clan. In other words, the source of the ingredients had to be Hermione and Harry, respectively.
The good news about this was that Hermione had started her period first time just earlier this year, a couple of months before her thirteenth birthday, so getting the first component shouldn't have been a problem, but here's how to approach Harry with a request for seed... Just thinking about it made Hermione's cheeks, neck and even ears turn purple. Until recently, she didn't even think about what her peers could be doing behind the closed doors of bedrooms and toilets. She tried to touch herself once as an experiment, but she didn't feel anything special and simply decided that her time had not yet come. The books on medicine and physiology that were kept in the Grangers' home library said that everyone develops sexually in their own way, and one should not rush things too much.
If it weren't for the extraordinary circumstances, Hermione doubted she would have ever broached this particular topic with her friends, boys.
She held on until the last, as if delaying time could solve anything. After the third day, her cheeks glowing in the best traditions of the Gryffindor flag, she caught Harry alone after classes, dragged him into an abandoned girls' toilet and, unable to think of anything better, blurted out:
"Harry, I need you to cum!"
Her face was now not only glowing red, but was pulsating from the heat rushing to it, so that it seemed that a little more and her head would simply explode, like an overheated kettle. For a while, Hermione didn't dare look up from the floor, but when she finally looked at her friend, she found him with a slack jaw and completely round, owl-like eyes.
"I... H... Herm... you... W... what?"
"This is needed for the potion! You see, the fertile seed of the heir of the family is one of the key ingredients..."
"Oh... I... I see. I... uh... I'll try, Hermione."
Until this very second, she had not even thought about the fact that Harry in this regard was as innocent as herself, if not more, but, judging by the absolute horror and stress read throughout his figure, it was so.
"Oh... I hope he knows how... how it's done," even in her head she could not utter such vulgar word as "masturbation."
"So... uh... When... when do you need it?"
"No later than this evening."
"Mm… okay…"
"Okay."
"Yeah. Well…"
"See you in the evening, then?"
"Yeah..."
He was about to leave when Hermione remembered something. With a wave of her wand, she cast a quick spell and conjured a glass flask with a wide neck and a stopper.
"Here, take it."
"T... Thank you," still not looking at her, Harry grabbed the flask and as quickly as possible left the room, which had become unbearably stuffy.
As soon as the door slammed behind him, Hermione took a deep breath and hid her crimson face in her hands. She only hoped that someday in the future she would be able to look at her friend again without wanting to instantly sink into the ground in shame.
* November 27, 1992, is the close approach of Venus, Neptune, the Moon, AND Uranus, the conjunction of both Venus and Neptune AND the Moon and Venus (two separate events in one day), and - to top things off - there's the Orionid meteor shower. The Moon is associated with a person's intuition, emotional make-up, unconscious habits, rhythms, memories, moods, femininity and their ability to react and adapt to those around them. It is associated for some with the mother, maternal instincts or the urge to nurture, the home, the need for security and the past, especially early experiences and childhood. It's associated medicinally with the digestive system, stomach, breasts, the ovaries and menstruation (which occurs on a monthly cycle). The conjunctions happening there, the Moon/Venus conjunction is a powerfully feminine event. In addition to all those feminine aspects of the Moon, Venus is associated with the principles of HARMONY, beauty, refinement, affections, love, and the urge to sympathize and unite with others. It is involved with the desire for pleasure, comfort and ease. It governs romantic relations, sex, marriage and business partnerships, the arts and fashion. And when it comes to Neptune, it's associated with the collective consciousness, idealism, dreams/fantasy, projections, undoing/dissolution of the status quo, evolutions, artistry, empathy, and illusion/confusion/vagueness on the way to discovering universal truths. Finally, Uranus is associated with science, exploration, sudden change, rebellion and independence (which hints a little at the mad scientists that our Gryffindor trio might be considered to be). (Thanks to reader RavenKing for the information provided)
Chapter 3Chapter TextWith his heart pounding and his head burning like a torch, Harry jumped out of the abandoned toilet, which had become their temporary laboratory for brewing a top-secret, super-complex potion for a undercover plan to protect Hermione from the evil Slytherin machinations, and rushed away like a bullet without seeing anything in front of him.
He had never felt such embarrassment before, not even when Aunt Petunia cut all his hair off in primary school and Harry spent half the night crying in his cupboard, thinking that he would have to appear on the street looking like this the next day.
What Hermione asked for did not fit into his naive twelve-year-old head. Did she really want him to... to jerk off for her?! Well… not for her, of course! For the potion! But there's little difference. One of his best friends, a girl,directly told him to take his... his penis in his hand and jerk it! Bloody hell!
The cool walls of the flask, which Harry was still clutching in his fist, did not allow him to doubt the reality of the previous conversation.
Having run a good mile along the corridors of the castle and without even noticing it, he found himself standing in some deserted corridor on the seventh floor, where few people usually wandered. He himself was definitely here for the first time and only hoped that he would be able to find his way back in time before Snape and Filch went hunting.
"I could really use a quiet, peaceful place right now..." As soon as he thought so, an unremarkable door appeared ahead. He pulled the handle and found himself in a small, slightly dusty, windowless room with a large fireplace and a worn leather sofa, as well as a coffee table with carved legs, a fluffy rug and a pair of armchairs very similar to those in the Gryffindor common room. There were several bookcases along the walls, but from this distance Harry could not make out what was written on the spines.
As soon as he crossed the threshold, the fire in the fireplace magically began to crackle welcomingly, making the room much more comfortable.
Still on stiff legs, Harry stumbled to the nearest chair and plopped down, running a hand through his tousled hair in frustration.
"Damn…"
He carefully lowered the flask onto the table and stared at it as if it were something dangerous, swallowing nervously.
"I can do this," Harry felt like an idiot, talking to himself out loud, but it was better than listening to his pulse pounding in his ears. "It's to protect Hermione."
He couldn't explain exactly why he was so nervous... Oh, who was he kidding?! It's just that he's never... well… He heard about such things from Dudley and Piers when they were chatting in the park, thinking that no one was around... And once Harry found some rather explicit magazines when he was cleaning out his uncle's garage, but the truth was that he himself had never done this… thing.
He didn't even know if Ron had done anything like that. Although they were best friends, both remained rather secretive in such matters: Harry due to the peculiar upbringing (or rather, lack thereof) in the Dursley household, and Ron due to the fact that you get used to hiding a lot when you live under the same roof with overly humorous older twin brothers who love to pull not-so-kind pranks when you least expect it…
"Harry, I need you to cum!" Hermione's words again wedged themselves into Potter's stream of consciousness, causing a strange reaction in his lower abdomen, like a slight tingling of electricity.
"Cum..." Harry echoed hoarsely and bit his lip as a whole herd of goosebumps rolled down his back, and it became even warmer in his southern parts.
Quite suddenly, he realized that even without any help, he was becoming harder and heavier between his legs, and his usually oversized boxers, inherited from Dudley, were becoming surprisingly tight.
Standing up, Harry unbuttoned the belt and zipper of his uniform trousers, letting the material fall unimpeded to the floor, and stared at his underpants. To his surprise, there was already a real tent erected, and a small damp spot had formed on the fabric. Without realizing it, he was already so ready that it began to cause physical discomfort.
Without unnecessary delay, the underpants followed the trousers, and now he was already standing in the middle of the room with a bare ass and a half-erect penis.
Giving in to curiosity, Harry grabbed the very top, as if it were a broom handle, and was immediately forced to withdraw his hand with a hiss. His lower abdomen was twisted by a sharp spasm, so that he involuntarily groaned and shuddered from the strangest mixture of pleasure and pain that he had never experience before.
"Shit!"
The second time he was more careful. Acting on intuition, he first spat into his palm, and then very carefully touched himself, grasping the middle. His erect cock felt very tender, almost velvety, and not at all like when Harry peed. Well, if only because now it was many times thicker and larger, and it also seemed to be buzzing with the energy that had flowed to it, like...
"...like a magic wand," Harry finished out loud and chuckled at the ridiculous, but surprisingly accurate association.
He tentatively ran up and down the penis, slightly shifting the skin, and immediately felt something as if growing inside him, so sharply that Harry was forced to stop before... something happened.
"Wow!"
On a whim, he began to more actively stroke the tense flesh along the entire length, slightly pressing his thumb on the tip, until a cloudy whitish drop formed in the crevice of the head.
"Oh... wow... this... this is so good..."
He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and spreading his legs wide, this time moving his fist so fast that his hand became a blur in the air.
"Harry, I need you to cum!"
"A-A-AH!!!" With a loud cry, he arched and clenched his fist with force for the last time, and then exploded for the first time in his life.
Nothing could have prepared him for this.
It seems that for a brief split of a second he even managed to lose consciousness, and when he returned, colored flies and Hermione's face, framed by tousled brown hair, flashed before his mind's eye.
"A-ah! O-oh..."
Jet after jet, Harry's throbbing cock continued to push out the thick, creamy liquid for several more seconds, which seemed like an eternity to the young Potter.
When he finally came to his senses a little, he found himself reclining in a chair, disheveled, sweaty, covered in something sticky and absolutely, completely happy. Drowsiness came in waves, and it took a lot of effort not to doze off right there, but Harry still somehow miraculously remembered why he started all this in the first place.
The flask Hermione had given him was still sitting on the table, empty. With awkwardness, the boy realized that he had managed to stain half of the tabletop around it.
It was amazing that there was so much of that white thing in him... Now his balls seemed so soft and relaxed... He only hoped that he had not spent it all at once (in truth, he had no idea how much seed a person could have, he only vaguely remembered some snippets from science lessons at a Muggle school).
The task of getting right into the neck of the flask suddenly seemed far from being as simple as Harry had thought a couple of minutes ago, when in his inexperience he believed it was something akin to urinating. With all the amazing new sensations, tingling, twitching and so on, how could he even control anything at a critical moment?!
"Damn, if I don't get Hermione the right ingredient in time, she'll kill me!"
He imagined how angry she would be with him, all excited, with sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks, how she would demand that he give her his fertile seed... and again he felt how his penis, which had been softened, began to rapidly harden.
"I think I like being yelled at... or being yelled at by Hermione," he smiled and reached for his crotch again, much more confidently now.
He imagined his best friend, who at these very moments must have been closely watching the potion and eagerly waiting for Harry to bring her a fresh portion of his sperm...
"A-a-ah! Shit! Hermione-a-ah!"
Trembling and wincing in ecstasy, he came profusely a second time. At the very last moment, he managed to pour a few streams into the flask, although not very much.
Harry felt as boneless as a jellyfish and as tired as after a grueling Quidditch practice. There was only half an hour left before lights out, and he doubted that he would be able to "play" another round right now, no matter how hard he tried. He could only hope that the amount already in the bottle would be enough for the potion.
Chapter 4Chapter TextOnce Harry provided the missing ingredient, Hermione finished the brew without any problems and left the liquid to steep for another seven days.
Harry still carefully averted his eyes when they met, a mutual urge that was unlikely to go away any time soon. Without saying a word, they decided never ever to tell Ron about this particular episode, otherwise he would die on the spot from shock, and then his ghost would haunt and tease them for the rest of their lives.
At the appointed hour, three Gryffindors quietly slipped out of the Great Hall, where most of the students were still eating dinner, and under the cover of the invisibility cloak they easily reached the abandoned toilet without being noticed. Moaning Myrtle was also absent today, which was very welcome. The pentagram, candles and bowls were prepared in advance, all that remained was to light the fire and we could begin.
Hermione told Harry to stand in the center of the large circle while she took the opposite position. Ron, as a witness, had to be in the side connecting circle all the time, his role was the simplest, but no less important: since the other participants were not able to leave their points until the very end, he had to serve them the cups with the potion on time.
"Is everyone ready?" Having received two affirmative nods in response, Hermione took a deep breath and unfolded the scroll with the spell: "Then I'll begin."
She began to slowly recite the text in the now dead Galwegian Gaelic*, trying not to mix up anything in the pronunciation, which was another task. The general meaning boiled down to a request to be accepted into the family in order to "unite magic and life" with Harry. She vowed to "become a Vessel of Power, remain faithful to the Family and protect the Clan." There was also something about "tirelessly planting and cultivating the Seeds of Power and filling the Family with these Fruits," but Hermione could not translate this passage with one hundred percent accuracy, and therefore simply decided that something allegorical was meant here, like a promise to develop her magical skills so that through her the Potter family could become stronger.
After that, Harry read his own lines, in which he agreed to accept her into the family "not by blood, but by magic." He promised to protect and guide her as the head and only surviving heir of the clan, and also to "bind their Blood together and fill the Vessel with Power, so that the Tree of the Clan would not dry up forever and ever."
Finally, it was time to take the potion. After cutting their fingers, Harry and Hermione allowed a few drops of blood to fall into the gurgling liquid. With Ron's help, they exchanged cups and took three large sips each, and poured the rest onto the pentagram writing, which briefly glowed with an otherworldly blue light and immediately went out, turning back into simple charcoal lines.
It's strange, but aside from the tart taste of the potion, Hermione didn't feel anything special. No disturbance in his magical core or anything else. She didn't really know what she was expecting, but she was still slightly disappointed.
"So... Are we done?" After a few minutes, Ron absentmindedly scratched the back of his head.
"Seems like it," Harry shrugged, looking equally uncertain, and then turned to his friend: "Hermione?"
"Hmm... It seems everything went well. Did you feel anything?"
"Nothing. And you?"
"Nothing too. Maybe this is how it should be..."
"Great!" Ron clapped his hands joyfully and ran to the door. "We still have time for dinner, right? Hopefully there's some kidney pie left in there..."
Hermione rolled her eyes:
"Hell will freeze over when Ronald Weasley stops worrying about food."
"Hey! All these creepy blood rituals make me quite hungry, you know!"
* * *
The rest of the night passed quickly for the three Gryffindors, albeit in different ways. Ron slept like a log, having eaten a couple of plates of fried potatoes and ribs, a huge slice of molasses pie, and a half-dozen pumpkin pasties before bed. As for Harry and Hermione, they never managed to rest properly; they both had incomprehensible dreams, which is why they always woke up with a latent feeling, as if they had forgotten to do something important, but for the life of them they could not remember what exactly.
The morning for them began with an early awakening by the prefect, who was sleepy and therefore very dissatisfied.
"Potter, get up! Ron, you get up too!" Percy unceremoniously pulled the blankets off the boys and, without even allowing them to properly open their eyes and change clothes, dragged them downstairs. "What have you two already managed to do?!"
"Uh... nothing?"
The friends looked at each other under the gaze of Percy, who only snorted at this, clearly not believing them one bit. All the way to the living room, the sophomores had an unpleasant tug in the pit of their stomachs, and not without reason.
"Do you think anyone found out about... well... you know… the ritual?" Harry whispered as quietly as possible, nervously looking at the back of the prefect walking ahead. Ron just shrugged, looking equally concerned.
Downstairs they were met by a very serious Professor McGonagall. Harry's heart sank when he noticed a confused Hermione in pajamas and fluffy bunny slippers next to her. His friend's hair was even more of a mess than usual, and really now resembled an unkempt crow's nest (not that he was going to tell her that, he still wanted to live). It looks like she was pulled out of bed in the same way just a couple of minutes ago.
"Good morning, Professor..." Harry and Ron greeted in unison, but for some reason the woman didn't even smile, she just frowned and nodded dryly.
After letting Percy go to sleep, McGonnagal silently stared at the "Golden Trio" for a while with an unreadable gaze, after which she briefly commanded:
"Follow me."
Very soon it became obvious that she was not leading them anywhere, but straight to the Headmaster. Despite her advanced age, the woman practically flew through the corridors in the best traditions of her colleague from the snake faculty, so that three students could barely keep up with her.
"They know! They know! But from where?! What are they going to do?! Will we be punished?! They're not going to expel us, are they?!" A panic thought flashed through Harry's head, which literally made him feel physically ill. Judging by the pale faces of his friends, they were thinking about the same thing.
"Orange toffee!"
Hearing the password, the gargoyle obediently jumped to the side to open the passage to Dumbledore's office. He was already waiting for them, however, unlike previous meetings with Harry, today he was not smiling. Without words, he waved his hand, summoning three hard-looking wooden chairs from the air.
"Please, have a seat."
They weren't even offered tea.
Professor McGonagall remained standing against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest and her lips pressed into a thin line. Apart from the quiet hum of the fancy gizmos on the shelves, an eerie silence hung over the room.
Dumbledore continued to frown. His fingers mechanically stroked his beard as he took turns looking at the three students frozen in front of him, as if he were trying to solve some particularly difficult puzzle, and this caused him genuine irritation. It was the first time in Harry's memory that he looked so... down-to-earth. Not an ideal kind grandpa, but simply a tired and already very old head of a school full of small idiots who strive every day to create complete bedlam for him and the rest of the adults.
"Professor... sir, did something happen?" Hermione was the first to timidly break the silence.
"I believe I should ask the three of you this question."
"Sir?"
Instead of answering, he summoned a thick leather-bound ledger from somewhere behind his back and forced it to open in the middle.
Despite his growing nervousness, Harry, along with the others, leaned curiously towards the lines that turned out to be the names of students from their year. Quite quickly he found his own name, followed by, as far as he remembered, Zachariah Smith...
"It can't be!" Hermione gasped loudly and immediately covered her mouth with her hand in fear.
"Huh?.."
...Patil, Parvati - b. May 17, 1980; Gryffindor
Potter, Harry - b. July 31, 1980; Gryffindor
Potter (nee Granger), Hermione – b. September 19, 1979; Gryffindor
Smith, Zechariah...
"They changed tonight," Dumbledore commented evenly, which contrasted with the inquisitive gaze with which he continued to scan the children.
Just in case, Harry reread the lines several times, just to make sure it wasn't his imagination. Next to him, Ron also looked surprised, which was understandable; Harry himself did not expect that the consequences of the ritual would be so... literal. So now Hermione was actually part of his family, even including her last name? It came as a surprise, but the boy didn't mind. It was actually pretty cool. It was like he actually had a sister now. He just couldn't understand why Hermione looked like she was about to faint or cry. Wasn't this the result they were counting on – to turn her into a "pure-blooded" witch?
"Or maybe she already regrets that she decided to become my family," Harry thought gloomily. For eleven years, the Dursleys never tired of telling him what bad luck and a burden it was for any normal person to be related to Harry Potter.
He didn't have time to finish his dark thought, because Dumbledore wanted to know what exactly they did yesterday, down to the smallest detail.
Since Hermione was still in a state of stupor, the boys had to explain everything themselves. It was too late to deny, so they openly told everything, from their suspicions about Malfoy to their plan to protect Hermione by introducing her into the Potter family through, what they believed, was magical adoption.
"So you decided to perform the ritual in hopes of protecting Miss Granger from a potential attack?" For some reason Dumbledore clarified.
The question and the tone itself seemed a little strange to Harry, but he nodded anyway:
"Yes, sir."
"And you did not pursue any other goals besides this one?"
"No, sir."
"I see…"
Dumbledore's fingers beat out a discordant rhythm on the tabletop, and Harry couldn't hold it in any longer:
"Sir, can you tell us what happened? Why is Hermione's last name Potter now? Is it because of the ritual? Is...is this bad? Will we be punished?! Will we be…?!"
He was forced to interrupt when the old man raised his hand, again calling for silence.
Having received the answers he needed, Professor Dumbledore seemed to soften a little, although he still looked tired and as if he had aged a couple of years. He waved his wand, and instead of a ledger, five steaming cups of tea appeared on the table.
As soon as everyone present had taken a few calming sips, the Headmaster spoke again:
"To answer your last question, Harry, yes, you will be punished. Professor McGonnagal," he nodded towards the Deputy Headmistress, "will later find a suitable activity for you for the next three months."
"Three months?!" Ron's eyes rolled out of their sockets. "But, sir!.."
"Mr. Weasley," McGonagall intervened in a stern tone, "although the desire for knowledge is strongly encouraged at Hogwarts, this does not mean that students are allowed to secretly brew potions and perform dangerous rituals in abandoned school toilets."
Under the unusually stern gazes of both adults, the boy looked down:
"Yes, ma'am..."
"So we won't be expelled?!" Harry needed to know this right now, otherwise he would simply suffocate from worry and uncertainty.
Dumbledore shook his head:
"No. As for the remaining issues, we will discuss them a little later. I'm afraid we will need the presence of Miss Granger's parents for this," he gave a sad, understanding look to Hermione, who at these words turned sharply pale and lowered her eyes to her hands clasped in her lap. "We also sent a message to your aunt, Harry, asking for a meeting."
"Good luck with that!" Potter almost blurted out, but bit his tongue just in time. Even in a fever dream, he could not imagine the Dursleys agreeing to come for him to a magicalcastle full of wizards and witches... although, perhaps, Dumbledore had some special methods of persuasion that he did not know about.
"Mr. Weasley, you can now return to the tower. You'll probably want to change your clothes before breakfast."
If Ron was surprised that no one seemed intent on calling his parents to school, he was smart enough not to look the gifted thestral in the mouth. He shot his less fortunate friends an apologetic glance before leaving the Headmaster's office and heading back to the dormitory in hopes of snatching another hour of sleep. He was sure that Harry and Hermione would definitely tell him everything later when they joined him in the Great Hall.
Chapter 5
The tense silence returned to the room as Ron's footsteps faded from the stairs. Dumbledore refilled the cups of tea and added a bowl of biscuits, but no one seemed to have much of an appetite. Harry took mechanical sips from time to time, but his worried expression suggested that his mind was elsewhere.
Hermione's own pulse pounded in her ears: "ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum..." like a drum. She swallowed hard and clutched her saucer tighter. It was all because of one unfortunate line on the student register:
Potter (nee Granger), Hermione
"Nee…"
She glanced sideways at Harry, who was sitting to her right, but then turned away again, unable to hold back the blush that was rising. She only hoped that the ritual that she and her friends had performed yesterday due to her own stupidity and ignorance could still be undone somehow, and that the consequences would not be too catastrophic for all participants…
Harry still seemed to be confused, as was Ron. Unfortunately, the well-read Hermione had guessed right away what was going on, and was now waiting with growing horror for her mum and dad to react to the news.
A flash of green flame in the fireplace made her flinch and almost spill her tea on her lap. First the squat figure of Professor Flitwick stepped onto the carpet, followed awkwardly by…
"Mr. and Mrs. Granger!" Dumbledore rose from his majestic chair to greet Hermione's parents in turn.
The Muggles, unaccustomed to such rapid movement in space, looked rather stunned, but to their credit, they quickly pulled themselves together. After exchanging words of politeness with the professors, they hurried to their daughter.
"Hermione!"
"Hi, Mum... Hi, Daddy," Hermione smiled weakly at both of them. Despite the circumstances, she was glad to see her parents, whom she had missed for several months.
"Are you okay, sweetheart?
"Yes, Dad..."
"Professor Flitwick said that you and your friends broke some serious rules, Hermione," Emma Granger raised her eyebrows questioningly and frowned slightly when her gaze caught on Harry. "And this must be the same Harry Potter you write to us about so often?"
"Mum!" Hermione blushed.
"Hello, ma'am. Sir," the boy rubbed his sweaty palms awkwardly on his trousers, unsure whether he should stand up and shake the Grangers' hands, as Dumbledore had done, or whether a verbal greeting would suffice. The only etiquette lesson he had received from his guardians was "sit very still, as if you weren't there, until the guests had left."
While he was pondering this dilemma, the fireplace flared up again, spitting out an extremely annoyed Snape, and a moment later, to Harry's complete amazement, Petunia Dursley. The woman almost plowed the floor with her nose, managing to trip over the grate, but was caught in time by the Headmaster's magic. While Petunia was being seated in a chair by common efforts and handed tea, her face remained pale to the point of green, as if she was about to vomit.
However, as soon as she had recovered enough to distinguish up from down, she immediately pounced on her nephew:
"You! You naughty boy! What have you done this time?! Do you have any idea what I had to go through because of you?! Diddy will soon be back from school, and I'm not home! Well, just wait until Vernon finds out about everything, he'll skin you alive! We've had enough of you, you rascal, over the summer, and now...!"
"Mrs. Dursley, you need to calm down..." Dumbledore tried to reason with her, but Petunia, who had gotten on her favorite hobbyhorse, was not so easy to cope with.
"...those freaks of yours kidnapped me in broad daylight! What impudence! What if the neighbors saw it?!.."
"Mrs. Dursley, please..."
"Dragged me God knows where, like some kind of...!"
The screams suddenly stopped, as if they had been cut off. Petunia continued to gape like a fish out of water, but no more sound came out. Her eyes widened and she clutched her throat in panic.
"Severus," Dumbledore looked reproachfully at the smirking Potions professor, who was putting his wand up his sleeve.
"If my services are no longer required, Headmaster, allow me to take my leave. I still have plenty of work to do, and I assure you, I have no desire to attend the Potters family drama," if contempt could be poured into test tubes like a potion and used to poison people, some of those present would have already died from an attack of acute toxicosis.
To McGonagall's disapproving snorts and the elder Grangers' whispers, the man gave a dramatic flourish of his robes and immediately left the headmaster's office. Meanwhile, Dumbledore was busy disenchanting Harry's aunt, who sat there, half dead from terror. She had remained silent even after the spell had been lifted, and was now trying to blend in with the furniture. Harry even felt a little sorry for her, but only a little.
When the excitement had died down a little, Mr. Granger decisively put his cup aside and turned to Dumbledore:
"I beg your pardon, but could you please explain to us what is going on?"
The old wizard took a deep breath and conjured more tea.
* * *
"What kind of rubbish is this?! A magical marriage?! Are you out of your mind?!"
"What are you talking about?! She's only thirteen, for God's sake!"
"Unfortunately, magic makes no difference. Since your daughter is already an adult witch from a biological point of view, and Mr. Potter is the last wizard in his line, their oaths of fealty cannot be so easily revoked..."
"Boy! What have you done?!"
"I..."
"Mr. Granger, let me explain..."
"It's not Harry's fault! I asked him and Ron myself!"
"What?! Is someone else involved in this nonsense?!"
"Hermione, what does this mean? You said you'd be safe at Hogwarts this year! We believed you!.."
"This is outrageous! What kind of morals are in this bloody school?!.."
While the adults and Hermione were arguing and shouting over each other, Harry stared blankly into space. He couldn't process what he'd just learned.
It turned out that the ritual the three of them had performed yesterday wasn't just a fancy way of "adopting" someone into the Potter family. It was much worse. Harry wasn't sure he fully understood all the complicated terms the professors were throwing around, but it seemed to indicate that he and Hermione were now... married.
Married! Bloody hell!
Harry didn't feel like a married man. Not even a little bit. First of all, he was just a boy. He just turned twelve this summer! He didn't really know anything about marriage or family, unless you counted the TV soap operas he secretly eavesdropped on from his cupboard! The Dursleys and their pig-like son weren't exactly considered an example of a normal family unit... So how could Harry suddenly end up someone's husband?!
Petunia reacted exactly as expected when she heard the news. Her already horse-like face lengthened even further, and then she gave a loud, unladylike snort and spat out in disgust:
"I always knew it would end like this! First my dear sister rushed off to get married at the age of seventeen, and now her brat has followed in her footsteps! You are all the same, the whole of your bloody abnormal race!"
She gave Harry a look of pure abhorrence, as if he were a cockroach on her favorite tablecloth. Then she turned back to Dumbledore and said:
"Neither I nor my husband want anything more to do with the boy. If you try to foist him on us again next summer, he will go straight to an orphanage, I assure you! I swear to God, I would rather die than let my son grow up next to something so twisted!"
After that, she demanded to be returned to Privet Drive immediately. As she left, she did not even glance in the direction of her nephew whom she had been forced to raise, feed and clothe for eleven years.
"It seems I have no home anymore," Harry watched in confusion as his aunt, accompanied by an irritated and upset McGonagall, disappeared in sparks of magical fire.
He caught Hermione's pitying look, which made him feel even worse. Mrs. Granger was shaking her head in obvious shock at Petunia's vile words, and even Mr. Granger, who, to put it mildly, did not like Harry at all, frowned his bushy eyebrows in disapproval.
"Great! Now all of them know how my family feels about me! If only Snape knew what performance he missed. He would definitely be happy that someone else is yelling at me and calling me a freak too!"
Harry didn't even understand why he was so angry. Well, yes, his own aunt hated him to the point of gnashing of teeth. Big deal! As if this was something he didn't know before... But he still felt terrible. He didn't like the idea of anyone seeing him as a victim, as if he were some pathetic weakling or whipping boy. He's not a weakling! He fought Voldemort one on one last year and lived to tell the tale, so he won't cry now! He's stronger than that.
The adults, meanwhile, were back on the original topic. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were beside themselves with worry and demanded an immediate annulment of the marriage, which they considered simply ridiculous. Dumbledore, for his part, insisted that this was absolutely impossible for many reasons.
"Not without directly threatening Hermione's magical core," he said darkly.
"What do you mean?"
"To put it mildly, Hermione breaking her marriage vows or attempting to force her out of the marriage would likely result in her losing her magic entirely."
Hermione and Harry looked at each other in fear, only now beginning to understand the magnitude of the mess they had made.
"Losing her magic? So what? It's a hell of a lot better than getting married at thirteen!" Mr. Granger crossed his arms over his chest.
"Hermione, sweety, think about it! You could just go back to your old school. You haven't missed much yet, it's easy to catch up on a year, and then you could go to Oxford or Cambridge, as we discussed earlier..." Mrs. Granger didn't have time to finish, because the always calm and polite Hermione suddenly jumped up from her seat in anger, which no one expected from her.
"No! I will not allow you to take away my magic!"
"Hermione..."
"I said, NO!"
The glass in the window frames rang thinly under the pressure of the elemental magic of the young witch, who was now standing with clenched fists, in rage and fear that someone would try to take away the most precious thing from her.
Magic were everything to Hermione. Ever since she received her first letter from Hogwarts inviting her to attend a school for young wizards and witches, everything had suddenly fallen into place. Every previously inexplicable oddity in her life made sense.
The other kids at her old school, their parents, and teachers were wrong. She wasn't a weirdo. She wasn't a freak. She was just a witch who could do magic. And now, finally able to freely use this power that had always been inside her, Hermione would rather die than go back to her old, dull, lonely life before Hogwarts. Here she had her first real friends! Here she could learn something amazing every day!
They would never take that away from her! Never!
"Miss Granger, please control yourself! No one is going to forcibly deprive you of your magic!" Dumbledore had to quickly cast a light shield charm on the room as the teacups, one after another, began to explode in the hands of those present.
"But they said..."
"In this situation, your parents can't decide such things, Miss Granger. I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, but it's true."
"What? What do you mean?! Hermione is our daughter! She's underage! I'm her father, and I will decide what's best for my..."
"She's a Potter now," the Headmaster interrupted gently. "That means the right to decide on her behalf has passed to her..."
"You've got to be kidding me! Don't tell me that this is..."
"Harry Potter. As Hermione's husband and head of the Potter family, Harry can speak on her behalf. No one else can "undo" the marriage vows, and even then the consequences for Hermione's magic are unpredictable."
Everyone in the room, including Hermione, stared at Harry with a mixture of emotions, from furious anger to complete confusion.
"Well, shit," Harry swallowed nervously.
What the hell had he let himself get into this time?!
Chapter 6Chapter TextMuch later that day, Hermione lay in the girls' dormitory, staring into the darkness of the canopy overhead and listening to her roommates snoring peacefully in their sleep, not even remotely aware of the extent of her current problems. She herself, alas, was unable to fall asleep right now, although she felt extremely exhausted. The morning scene was still before her eyes.
In truth, she still couldn't believe that she hadn't imagined all this.
"I'm married. My husband is Harry Potter," she had to bite her lip hard to suppress a nervous chuckle.
Oh, how disappointed fans of the Boy Who Lived and purists of blood would be if they learned that the national hero married a Muggle-blood...
"You're thinking about the wrong things, Hermione! Better find a way out of this madness for both of you! Poor Harry... He seemed so confused and scared. He probably already regrets that he agreed to help me at all... And yet he did not allow them to take me from school, although my dad shouted at him terribly..."
She continued to replay the conversation in the director's office like a kaleidoscope. The faces of her parents stood out especially brightly, shocked to the core and very, very disappointed in their unlucky daughter, who had let them down so badly. They were already against her returning to the magical castle after the incident with the troll last year. Moreover, they did not even know all the details of the incident, just as they didn't know about Cerberus on the third floor, the dragon in the forester's hut, the midnight detention in the Forbidden Forest, not to mention that terrible story with the Philosopher's Stone, which only by luck did not end in someone's death... well, except for Professor Quirrell, of course, but he sort of deserved it, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was in the back of his head and all, so... hmm. In general, the first year at the school of witchcraft and wizardry was really eventful for Hermione and her friends.
She never told Harry and Ron, but in fact she had to literally beg Mum and Dad all summer not to take her away from Hogwarts. In exchange, she promised to study on her own using regular textbooks so as not to fall behind in the curriculum of her old school. She was even going to take certification tests in order to have the opportunity to enroll part-time at a Muggle university in the future. This was the only compromise that satisfied the elder Grangers and allowed Hermione to continue her training in witchcraft.
And now all this threatened to collapse overnight! Her entire carefully constructed future was in jeopardy – because of herself! How could she be so stupid and reckless?! She had always been so proud of her rationality and attention to detail, and look where it got her! Straight to marriage! But she had no intention of starting a family, at least not until she received her doctorate…
"What should I do now? How can I fix this?" she had no answer to this questions.
Harry was ready to support her in any case, no matter what she decided, which he so directly stated in front of the Headmaster and her parents. Hermione, of course, was grateful to him for this... but also he was just a twelve-year-old boy. He was, as usual, trying his best to protect one of his friends and didn't fully understand what he was signing up for. How could they cope with all this just the two of them, without the help of adults?
There was a bitter lump in her throat and a sting in the corners of her eyes. Hermione spent the rest of the night sobbing silently into her pillow in painful overthinking and self-flagellation, absolutely sure that she had ruined her own life and Harry's life too.
* * *
The whole next week flew by in a blur. After the upset and infuriated Mr. and Mrs. Granger left Hogwarts without achieving anything, the culprits of the incident were released with a promise to report for detention to Professor McGonagall this weekend. It seemed that the school administration simply did not know what to do with them. There had been no precedents for students marrying here for at least three hundred years, or more, not to mention the fact that Harry and Hermione were only second years. Finally, Professor Dumbledore promised that he would study all the details of the ritual in more detail in order to find possible loopholes, so there was still hope.
As soon as they were released, Hermione's first thought was to immediately go to the library to do her own research, but first Harry dragged her into the first empty room they came across and immediately blurted out:
"Hermione, I'm so sorry! If only I knew..."
"It's not your fault, Harry. It's on me. And... thank you for standing up for me to mum and dad. They... they don't understand what it's like to lose your magic.
The boy nodded with a very serious look. Of all the people, it was perhaps Harry who could best understand Hermione's fears about returning to her previous Muggle life. Even a superficial acquaintance with his aunt was enough to leave an indelible impression.
"Of course, Hermione. You are my friend. I'll do anything for you."
And he really meant it. Chivalrous, altruistic Harry, always ready to help loved ones in trouble, even if it meant harming himself...
Hermione lowered her head sharply, allowing her voluminous hair to hide her flushed face. It seemed that now she simply could not stop blushing next to Harry Potter, no matter what the circumstances.
There was a long, awkward pause, during which both teenagers tried to look anywhere but at their interlocutor. For the first time in her life, Hermione felt uncomfortable around Harry, her best friend. The problem was that he suddenly turned into something much more, skipping dozens of steps in the relationship at once, and this scared her. No matter how funny it sounded, he was now her husband, and she was his wife. At a minimum, this entailed changes in her legal status, which she had already seen... This was not necessarily a bad thing. At least Harry was on her side and hadn't done anything to abuse his power so far. However, Hermione still hated the idea that someone, especially a man (or a boy, in this case), had the right to make vital decisions for her. Not to mention the fact that marriage also implied a certain... relationship for the two of them.
"Does this mean that he and I will have to...?" such thoughts made her mouth dry, and her heart began to beat very, very quickly.
Professor Dumbledore didn't mention anything like this, neither did Professor McGonnagal, but maybe they were just too embarrassed to talk about it out loud with their students? Hermione, who had read "Hogwarts: A History" from cover to cover several times, knew for sure that, according to the school's rules, intimate relationships between students (or students and professors, for that matter) were strictly prohibited. She also knew that in reality this rule was not always followed.
Was her and Harry's case one of those exceptions? Will they be forced... to do this… thing to consummate the marriage?
Ever since the night of the ritual, Hermione had had a vague feeling, as if the ceremony had not been completed as it should have been. They did everything strictly according to the instructions: the potion, the pentagram, the candles, the oaths, the blood... But what if that wasn't enough?
Listening to herself now, she realized that something inside her could not stop its anxiety. This state only intensified when Harry was nearby. In the end, she found herself unable to sit quietly next to him in class without looking in his direction with a strange new interest that she had not noticed in herself before.
Was this a consequence of the ritual performed or... or was it much more banal, and she just... well... succumbed to her hormones, like an ordinary teenage girl? Just a couple of weeks ago, she had looked with similar romantic interest at Gilderoy Lockhart, their new DADA professor and part-time book hero, with whom she had been childishly in love ever since she read all about his many incredible exploits. And who could blame her for that? The man was almost inhumanly beautiful, and also gifted magically (otherwise how would he have been able to defeat all those trolls, vampires and dragons that were mentioned in the books?) and, finally, incredibly kind to his many fans… For Hermione it was love at first sight, pure and innocent.
All the more remarkable was the fact that she had not thought about Lockhart at all for some time. Did this mean that she had somehow managed to fall in love with Harry instead of him without even noticing it herself?
Hermione's brain was ready to explode from a swarm of buzzing, chaotic thoughts that were usually completely out of character for her. All this gave her headaches, causing her to become sullen and irritable and often snap at innocent classmates, so that even the calm, forgiving Neville, in the end, preferred to stay away from her.
Hermione couldn't really understand what was happening to her. If she didn't know better, she would have thought she was PMSing, except her period had ended five days ago.
The culmination was a quarrel with Ron, which began over some stupid little thing that Hermione could not even really remember now. Harry, as usual, tried to make peace between them, but this time he was full of his own conflicting emotions and therefore quickly gave up. As a result, all three avoided each other and hardly spoke.
"Did you and Harry quarrel?" the question asked in a timid, quiet voice brought Hermione out of her state of deep thought and forced her to pay attention to her surroundings.
It turns out that this time she managed to go deep into herself right in the middle of lunch. The plate of almost untouched oatmeal was still in front of her, but she had no appetite at all. Wincing, Hermione pushed the disgusting mess away and turned to the girl next to her, who turned out to be Ron's little sister, Ginny. The first year looked at Granger curiously, still waiting for an answer.
"Mmm... No, we didn't. Why?"
"Oh... I... I guess I was mistaken. I'm really sorry! It's just… before you always went together, but now... I'm sorry! I think I got it all wrong!"
"It's okay. In fact, we..." the words got stuck in Hermione's throat when she glanced at Harry, sadly wandering towards the table all alone. Ron was nowhere near him.
For a moment, his and Hermione's gaze collided in the air, and Hermione felt like she was electrocuted. The tugging feeling that now arises every time in the depths of her body in his presence returned tenfold, so that the girl had to grit her teeth so as not to groan from this wild and painful sensation. Drops of sweat instantly flowed down her back, soaking into her blouse and causing the fabric to stick unpleasantly to her skin.
What the hell was going on with her?! Is she sick with something? Because she was definitely feeling the fever right now. Why in the name of all that is holy did Harry's presence have such a strange effect on her?!
"Is everything okay, Hermione?" her friend was next to her much faster than she expected, and now looked at her flushed face with sincere concern. "You don't look good. Do you have a fever? Maybe you should go see Pomfrey?"
Without a second thought, he reached out with his palm to her forehead, but Hermione pushed him away almost in panic.
"I'm fine!" she snapped and immediately regretted her harshness when Harry frowned with offense.
She didn't want to snap at him at all, lately it had just come out, as if she had been possessed by a demon, forcing her to snap at everyone around her... And at the same time, she was unable to stop staring at Harry, like a hungry werewolf at piece of steak.
As discreetly as possible, she took a few deep breaths through her nose and mentally counted to ten and back, telling herself to calm down. People around were already starting to stare at them.
"Everything is fine. I'm fine. It's just Harry, my... my friend. Nothing changed. We are just friends, and all I feel now... it's from nerves. Yeah. That's it. The situation is wild, and I am nervous, that's all."
"I'm sorry. It's all good, really. I... I think I need to go to the library to check... things," blurting out the usual excuse, Hermione hastily stood up to shamefully run away, but before she could take even a few steps, the world around her suddenly turned black, and she quickly flew towards the stone floor.
The last thing she remembered before passing out in front of the entire school was Harry's voice calling her name in a panic.
Chapter 7Chapter TextHarry's heart was pounding somewhere in his throat as he ran at top speed through the corridors after Professor McGonagall and the stretcher flying through the air with the unconscious Hermione. Following them, he burst into the hospital wing, only a couple of seconds ahead of the equally out of breath Ron. After exchanging glances, the boys simultaneously tried to break through to the hospital bed where their friend was laid, but they were quickly pushed back by Madame Pomfrey.
"Shoo! There is no point in spinning around under my feet! You can visit Miss Granger later, once she is better, but now get out of here!" with these words, the medical witch waved her wand, gently pushing them away from her possessions and closing the doors behind them.
Ron's face was contorted with fear, and Harry suspected he looked no better himself.
"What happened?"
Due to his general pallor, the red-haired boy's freckles seemed even brighter in the light of the floor candelabra, next to which both Gryffindors froze, not knowing what to do with themselves. They didn't want to leave Hermione alone, but there was no point in standing stupidly in the middle of an empty corridor.
"I don't know."
"Do you think... she'll be okay?"
"I... I don't know."
Harry ran a trembling hand through his tousled hair, tangling it even more. When Hermione suddenly, out of nowhere, collapsed in the middle of the Great Hall, he was completely scared. It was as if she had been cursed.
"Malfoy!" apparently, Ron's thoughts were moving in a similar direction. "I'm sure it's all his doing! The idiot hates Hermione!"
If it turns out that this is true, Harry will kill the bastard. The Gryffindor's fists clenched of their own accord as he imagined strangling Draco with his bare hands for hurting his friend.
Now Harry really regretted that he had avoided Hermione for almost a whole week, and all because he was too embarrassed. The fact that they accidentally got married unsettled him. They haven't even dated! To be honest, until recently, Harry had never even thought about her in this way; for him, Hermione was always "his guy," just in a skirt. He wasn't sure if she would be offended if she found out about this, or if she would be glad that he treated her the same way he treated Ron, without making a difference between the two.
He looked again at Ron standing next to him, looking equally lost, and it made him wonder: "If he was lying in Hermione's place in the Hospital Wing right now, would I be worried about him in the same way?"
Harry tried to imagine such a situation, but all that now stood before his eyes was the chalky white, bloodless face of Hermione, who lay unconscious on the stone slabs. He knew it was stupid, but he still couldn't shake guilt of not being able to protect her. If he hadn't been running away from her like an idiot all week, perhaps he would have been able to notice in time who attacked her and stop them...
"Surely Snape was involved too! He's a potions master after all, he could have sneakily slipped Hermione some nasty stuff!" Ron continued to argue passionately. "They know exactly who the Heir of Slytherin is, and they are helping him!"
Despite his strong personal animosity, Harry doubted that Snape would dare poison one of his students. At least he wouldn't do it so openly, in front of so many students and professors. But Malfoy would have cursed the muggle-blood he hated so much... The blond asshole was stupid and arrogant enough to do that, because he knew that dear daddy would always have his back anyway...
Harry was about to set out to lynch the vile Slytherin, but he was stopped by the appearance of Dumbledore. He was not in the Great Hall at the time of the incident, so someone must have urgently called him here, which means something serious has happened.
"Sir! It's Hermione!.." both boys jumped up to him, but the Headmaster only nodded and quickly disappeared behind the doors of the hospital wing.
And again the painful wait stretched on, during which Harry bit his lip until it bled, never ceasing to nervously pace the narrow space of the corridor, and Ron almost chewed off his thumbnail at the root.
Finally, after forty minutes, Madam Pomfrey looked out to them:
"I knew I'd find you two here! Fine, you can come in, but only for a while. Miss Granger needs rest. The poor girl is completely exhausted."
"Do you know what happened to her?"
"Overwork."
It was a very strange and uninformative answer, but even stranger was the look that the school nurse gave Harry. Lately, many adults had looked at him in a similar way, as if they both pitied and judged him. They seemed to want to say something, but did not dare. Harry hated these eternal secrets around himself, and now around Hermione too. Why couldn't anyone just tell him straight out what it was?! How could he fix anything if he didn't even know what he had screwed up?!
"Five minutes and not a second longer," Madam Pomfrey sternly tapped her pocket watch and retired to her post, where Dumbledore was still talking in a low voice about something with his deputy. Meeting Harry's eyes, the old man smiled slightly and nodded, so that the boy's heart eased a little. Maybe it wasn't so bad, and he just started imagining things...
Apart from the motionless Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick, Hermione's bed was the only one currently occupied and was separated from the rest of the room by a screen. The friend greeted Harry and Ron with a weak, sleepy smile. She was, indeed, practically asleep and could barely put together a few words due to the potions they had pumped her full of. Unfortunately, she was just as confused about what had happened to her as the others. The only thing Madam Pomfrey was able to diagnose was severe physical and magical exhaustion. Otherwise, everything seemed to be fine with the girl, so she was simply prescribed bed rest and plenty of food until she fully regained her strength.
"I always told you, guys, sometimes you need to walk outside, and not just study!" Ron chided with a grin.
Harry smiled too, relieved to see that their friend was okay. Hermione was just overworking, as usual, and all this worry about the Heir of Slytherin and the stupid ritual had an impact... Anyone could faint in those circumstances! Madam Pomfrey certainly wouldn't have missed something more serious... right?
He continued to mentally convince himself of this all the way back to the Great Hall, where they had left their bags in a hurry, and almost succeeded, if not for a quiet thin squeak in the back of his mind – the voice of intuition screaming about the impending danger.
* * *
With a sigh of defeat, Albus Dumbledore sank heavily into the chair in his office and pulled his glasses off his face to rub the red, wrinkled skin underneath. Today was one of those days when he fully felt his age and even more. Taking advantage of the fact that no one sees him, except for the portraits of former Headmasters, who anyway could not tell anyone, because they were bound by an oath of confidentiality, the elderly sorcerer allowed himself a moment of weakness and tiredly closed his eyes, reddened from lack of sleep.
"Everything is going wrong..."
Fawkes, who had previously been dozing on a perch in the corner, purred affectionately and flew onto the back of the Headmaster's chair to gently rub his head against his wizard's cheek.
"Thank you, old friend. I know, I know... Now I just need to come up with something else. Under no circumstances can we allow Harry to lose his magic," Dumbledore began to tenderly run his fingers through the warm feathers of the phoenix, to which he responded with a satisfied trill.
For some time, the great wizard continued to look unfocused into the emptiness in front of him under the soothing singing of the phoenix, allowing his thoughts to flow freely until they began to line up on their own in clear logical chains, which, in the end, would lead him to a solution to the current problem.
Young Harry Potter recently seriously complicated the task for him and all other members of the Order by tying himself to a magical blood contract with Miss Granger. Dumbledore searched everywhere he could, even shaking up his old contacts in the Department of Mysteries, but the answers he received only confirmed his initial fears: the Bonding Rite of Love and Fertility, carelessly carried out by teenagers, could not be undone.
What happened to Hermione today was just the beginning. According to the most positive estimates, she and Harry had a week left, two at most. They had to consummate their marriage before the end of the lunar cycle, otherwise both would first turn into squibs, and then, when there was no more magic left in them, the torn threads of the oath would begin to drain life energy from them.
Linsay Johnston, a warlock from Anandale, who invented this ritual three hundred years ago in order to save his dying family and at the same time teach a lesson to his rebellious son, who decided against his will to marry a Muggle-born, was truly insane, although not without a grain of genius. In theory, participants in a magical marriage contract could strengthen their power and provide themselves and the entire clan with almost unprecedented protection from enemies, but the conditions were extremely harsh, and the punishment for even the slightest violation of the vows was terrifying.
In addition to compulsory sexual intercourse, regular conception and childbearing was the main requirement. The witch was also forbidden to cheat on her husband, she had to remain faithful to the family in every sense and, in fact, became a living incubator for the gestation and birth of the heirs of the family. For the man, the conditions were somewhat milder, but his life also no longer belonged to him.
Not surprisingly, Johnston's line was eventually broken.
Dumbledore couldn't imagine how he could willingly doom two innocent children to something like that. Even he wasn't that cruel.
For now, he had only shared this latest information with Minerva because he knew he could trust her completely. After listening to everything, the Transfiguration professor was expectedly horrified:
"Albus, they're still too young! We cannot demand this from them!"
"What choice do we have?"
The woman knew that he was right, and therefore did not answer. The maximum they could do was to slightly delay the date of consummation. Miss Granger had already received several powerful potions and amulets to help replenish and maintain magical reserves, but it was like scooping water out of a broken boat with a teaspoon. Instead, they should have sealed the hole quickly before it was too late.
Albus would have to talk to Harry and Hermione soon, even if he himself felt sick about what he was about to push them to.