The Source of Magic

The Dream Life of Angelina Granville

Chapter 13 ~ The Dream Life of Angelina Granville

It was one of those mornings when Hermione found it difficult to wake up. She'd been dreaming a strange, strange dream, unlike anything she'd ever dreamt before. She dreamed she was a witch, and there were lots of other witches and boy-witches —they were called wizards — and even a special school where they went to learn magic. It all seemed so incredibly real, even now … as if she was still dreaming … but she wasn't. She was wide awake, lying in bed, with her eyes wide open. But the dream simply refused to go away.

Sitting up quickly, Hermione tried to clear her head and to stop the strange, confusing dream, which was making her feel vague and fuzzy and not quite there. At first she couldn't even remember what day it was, whether she was supposed to be going somewhere, or whether she was late for something. Slowly, with great difficulty, Hermione managed to push the dream to the back of her mind and remember. That's right; she was on holidays, she could sleep as long as she wanted. She did need to be somewhere … but not till late afternoon. It was almost ten now; her parents must have left for work ages ago.

The dream — the witch dream — was still there, trying to take over again. It was distressing — was she going crazy? She turned on the radio loudly to drown out the dream. They were playing the second Brandenburg Concerto on Radio 3. Hermione put on her bathrobe, dashed downstairs to the kitchen, put on the coffee, and turned on the kitchen radio which was also tuned to Radio 3. She turned up the volume so she could hear it while she showered. She adored Bach, but today she could not absorb into the beautiful music. “Harry Potter, Jason Trolove, Rowena Ravenclaw….” Names she had never heard before popped uninvited into her head. They seemed somehow very, very, familiar. What on earth was happening to her?

Hermione stepped from the shower, dried herself, and threw on her bathrobe; then she returned to the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee, which she took up to her bedroom. As she dressed, she was almost trembling from the effort of holding back the dream; it was gradually overpowering her. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, she turned off the radio, lay down on her bed, and stopped fighting it. The dream washed over her like a fantasy movie — a movie about her own life — except it wasn't her life … or was it?

Up to the age of eleven, it seemed pretty much the same. Then a letter came informing her that she was a witch and inviting her to attend a special school where she would learn magic. It seemed so ridiculous, so silly, so absurd … and yet, it explained so much — all those inexplicable incidents, like the one with her horrible Aunt Amelia last Christmas. Her aunt, who was an insufferable snob, had, as usual, over-imbibed in the festive spirit and castigated Hermione's parents for having allowed her skip a year of secondary school. Then the old battle-axe began harping on about how un-ladylike Hermione was, how she was utterly deficient in the really important things, like social skills, etiquette, and comportment. And horror of horrors: No wealthy, respectable, gentleman would ever want to marry her. It was when her aunt insisted that rather than going to university, Hermione should be sent to a finishing school for young ladies that the steamed pudding suddenly leapt right into her aunt's astonished face.

There had been quite a few of those strange incidents over the years — like the time that creepy man followed her home from the library after dark. She'd started running, but he was faster; just as he was about to catch her, he tripped for no reason and fell. From the noise he made, he must have broken something — Hermione didn't hang around to find out. These incidents always seemed to happen when she was very angry or frightened. She tried not to think about them because they defied logic; there was no rational explanation, and she was a very rational person. About a year ago, she had discovered Quantum Physics. It was somehow comforting to find a scientific model, in which the self-evident truths of common sense failed, and nothing was quite certain or what it appeared to be. In fact, she was planning on majoring in Physics when she started at Cambridge next month. Although, if she was being really honest with herself, there was nothing in Quantum Physics to suggest that inexplicable events occur simply because one wants them to, which seemed to be the case with her incidents.

But the witch dream explained it all. She was a witch, and these things were simply accidental magic — the unintended consequences of emotional outbursts. She became more and more curious. She was no longer fighting the dream — she was now actively exploring it. The dream sped up, yet it was full of fine detail. Her parents allowed her to go to the magic school, and she became a powerful witch. She became friends with a boy named Harry Potter who grew up to become a powerful wizard, who was destined to fight it out for the future of the wizarding world with a terrible villain named Voldemort. Her mind was flooded with the details of six years of her life in this magical world, and then the start of her seventh year. Finally, came the knowledge of multiple realities and the realisation that this strange, strange dream was not a dream at all — it was her own life in a different reality.

Hermione was stunned. She felt as if there were two people, two lives inside her head. Finally she understood what had happened: The other Hermione — the witch — had magically travelled to this reality. As she explored the dream further, the more real it became … and her present life seemed more and more like a dream. Then a shiver run down her spine … the witch Hermione had taken over! No, not taken over — she was the witch Hermione, and yet she had a complete memory of the life of the Hermione in this dream reality. Then she remembered the plan she had hatched with Jason: She was to go to Hogwarts. She had to find Rowena Ravenclaw's wand, and destroy Voldemort's Horcrux. But how would that fit in with her life in this dream world, she wondered?

Then she remembered. She was supposed to be going on an Ancient Civilisations bus tour, which would take her to France, Italy, Yugoslavia, Greece, Turkey, Lebanon, Iraq, Jordan, Israel, and Egypt, from where she would fly home. She was meant to be leaving this afternoon. She knew a travel shop where she could get some postcards, which, with a little magic, could be made to look like they had been posted from the locations the tour would visit. She was pretty sure post owls could deliver to Muggle letterboxes. That would stop her parents from worrying about her, and when it was all over, she could tell them all about where she had really been … maybe.

~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~

Hermione entered the Leaky Cauldron, feeling conspicuous with her Muggle backpack. Remembering that Voldemort had not fallen in this reality, she wondered how different the wizarding world would be. Tom was still the landlord, and luckily he had a free room for her. She gave her name as Angelina Granville — it would be safer to use an alias, as at some stage she would be disappearing from the wizarding world, and, depending upon the circumstances, Voldemort might be very keen to track her down. It seemed unlikely that he and his Death Eaters would think of looking in the Muggle world, but she preferred to play it safe. They would not know her real name or have much idea of her appearance: she had just had her bushy brown hair straightened and dyed black.

Diagon Alley did not, at first, look very different from how it would have looked in Hermione's reality a few days before the start of the school year. There were parents with their children buying books and other school supplies. But it was less crowded — of course, there were no Muggle-borns — except for herself! The war had ended in this reality over sixteen years ago, when Voldemort triumphed, and while people were not looking about cautiously, fearful of an attack, they were, nevertheless, clearly ill-at-ease. Everyone seemed more subdued and they kept to themselves — which was only to be expected under an evil totalitarian regime.

Hermione recognised some seventh-year students: Daphne Greengrass, Theodore Nott, Susan Bones, and Terry Boot, but of course she could not betray it. In fact, she kept her eyes down as she felt rather conspicuous in her Muggle clothes. In her reality, it was not at all unusual to see young witches and wizards sporting Muggle gear in Diagon Alley, but it was in this one.

Her first stop was Gringotts where she exchanged some money she'd withdrawn from her Barlays bank account for Galleons. Then she set off for Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions and bought herself a robe to throw over her Muggle clothes. She would come back for the rest of her clothes another time. What she really wanted was a wand; she felt incomplete and vulnerable without one. Mr Olivander had not mysteriously disappeared in this reality. Not surprisingly, he matched her with exactly the same wand as the one she had in her reality. The ten-inch Vine wood wand with a dragon heartstring core felt like a familiar friend.

Next, she went to Scribbulus Everchanging Inks to buy some parchment and ink, which she took back to her room at the Leaky Cauldron. She had to compose two letters to the Hogwarts Headmistress. The first was purportedly from the headmaster of the school of magic in Malawi, attesting to the magical ability and knowledge of his former student Angelina Granville and certifying that she was of an incontrovertibly pure-blood lineage. Hermione wrote the letter from memory, according to Jason's instructions, and then used the forgery spell to make the writing look authentic. The second letter, which enclosed the first, was supposedly from her father, requesting that his daughter, Angelina, be allowed to attend Hogwarts as a seventh-year student and requesting a reply by return owl addressed to his daughter at the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione used another forgery spell to disguise her handwriting.

Before going downstairs to request the use of a post owl, Hermione used her newly-acquired wand to perform some magic on her face. For the first time in her life, she appreciated the advanced cosmetic magic skills of Parvati and Lavender, which she could not avoid picking up in the six years they had been her dorm-mates. First, she changed the colour of her eyebrows and eyelashes to match her black hair. Next, she made her nose look a little longer and thinner, and her cheekbones higher. Finally, she pointed her wand at her two front teeth and reduced them, as Madam Pomfrey had done in fourth year after she'd been hit by Malfoy's Densaugeo Curse. They had been bothering her ever since awakening this morning in this reality. Hermione inspected herself in the mirror; she was most impressed. Although the changes were minimal, the combined effect made her look quite different.

Hermione returned to Madam Malkin's for a complete set of school robes. She also bought a trunk to put everything in. Then she went to her favourite shop, Flourish & Blotts, not to buy school books — that could wait until she had the seventh-year book list — but to buy some history books on recent events in the wizarding world. She needed to find out how this reality differed from her own. She also found a book about magical creatures and communities in Africa, which would make good background reading, along with the Muggle book about southern Africa she'd bought on her way to the Leaky Cauldron. She needed to get her story right. Armed with her pile of books, Hermione returned to her room and spent the remainder of the afternoon and evening engaged in serious study.

~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~

When she awoke the following morning, it took Hermione a minute or two to remember where she was — and who she was — both of her selves! She decided to breakfast in her room so she could continue reading while she ate. When the breakfast tray came up, there was a message on it that had arrived care of the Leaky Cauldron. As she read the first few lines, her heart sank.

Dear Miss Granville,

Hogwarts is not accustomed to accepting students of unknown origin. Although your previous school and its Headmaster are both known to myself, I do not consider it likely that your education there could possibly be up to the level of excellence required by Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I think it highly unlikely that you would have obtained the requisite knowledge necessary for the exacting standards of seventh-year studies at Hogwarts.

However, as your former headmaster insists that you are an excellent student, and in deference to his opinion, I will at least give you the chance to prove yourself. A member of the Hogwarts staff will be visiting Diagon Alley today on school business, and will interview you. Please ensure you are at the Leaky Cauldron at midday for your interview with Professor Malfoy.

Yours sincerely,

Dolores Jane Umbridge

Headmistress

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

“Oh, no! Yuck!” exclaimed Hermione. No wonder Jason hadn't mentioned the Headmistress' name. He must have known it was that bloody cow Umbridge, and he didn't want to put her off. But worse than that — far worse — Lucius Malfoy was going to examine her! Obviously, in this reality he was a Hogwarts Professor — teaching the Dark Arts, no doubt. Hermione was worried; very worried. Was it really going to be just a scholastic examination of her knowledge and abilities, or was Malfoy checking her out in his capacity as a Death Eater? Would he attempt to verify her story about being from Africa? If he discovered she was Muggle-born, she was dead for sure — well the Hermione in this reality was, even if she would awaken unharmed in her own.

Hermione set about getting rid of everything that might give away her Muggle background. All her Muggle things went into her backpack, which was transfigured into a hairclip. Then she returned to her books, particularly the ones about Africa, as she carefully constructed the history of her life there. As midday approached, she got rid of the books as well, transfiguring them into rings and bracelets — the sort of thing she never wore, but Lucius Malfoy wasn't to know that.

At the stroke of noon, there was a knock at the door. Hermione opened it with dread … but it was not Lucius Malfoy! It was a witch — and not Narcissa Malfoy, either. Hermione was struck dumb; this was not what she had expected. “Miss Angelina Granville?” inquired the witch. “I am Professor Malfoy, the Hogwarts' Transfiguration Mistress. I believe Headmistress Umbridge has written to advise you of my visit.”

“Yes, of course, please come in,” said Hermione, remembering herself and trying hard to conceal her surprise. The Professor entered the room and seated herself at the desk. She gestured for Hermione to bring the chair from the corner of the room closer and sit in front of her.

She had the typical Malfoy blond hair, but her eyes were brown, not grey. She removed a parchment and quill from her bag and began jotting down notes as she questioned Hermione. She asked her which subjects she had studied in her previous school. Hermione was careful to omit Muggle Studies, which was certainly no longer on the Hogwarts curriculum, and left the ‘Defence Against' from the ‘Dark Arts'. Professor Malfoy began testing Hermione's knowledge in each of her subjects. The questions were deceptively easy to begin with, but they became increasingly difficult. Hermione had to really work hard at answering them — perhaps Umbridge was right, perhaps standards were far higher here than in her reality; maybe she wouldn't be good enough to get in. Still, she was fairly confident she had answered them all correctly. Next came practical tests in Transfiguration and Charms, which again started easily enough but quickly became very demanding. Hermione was determined to succeed and rose to the challenge.

Professor Malfoy dropped her parchment on the table behind her and looked at Hermione appraisingly. “I did not realise the Malawi school of magic was so advanced,” she said.

Hermione began to feel nervous and uncomfortable; perhaps she shouldn't have tried so hard, after all. “Err, I was top of my year, Professor, and I always read a great deal outside of the school curriculum.”

“Miss Granville, you are well in advance of seventh-year at Hogwarts — its end point, not its starting point. To be perfectly frank, you would be wasting your time coming to Hogwarts. Twenty years ago, when curriculum standards were far higher, seventh-year studies at Hogwarts would have benefited you, but regrettably, the standards have declined.”

“Err, but, my parents want me to go to Hogwarts because, err … they are planning on moving to England. They thought it would be a good opportunity for me to make friends and learn about the wizarding world here in Britain,” bluffed Hermione desperately.

“You would be exceedingly bored at Hogwarts, Miss Granville.”

“But, I could read and do research in the library.”

“The Headmistress would never permit it.”

“What? Why not?”

“Headmistress Umbridge believes the principle purpose of education is to produce good, responsible members of the Wizarding community. She places a great deal of emphasis on learning the rules and regulations that govern that community and abiding by them. She does not encourage students to excel, either in knowledge or in magical powers.”

“Is that why the standards have fallen? Because of the Headmistress?”

“I see you are unfamiliar with the wizarding world here in Britain, Miss Granville. I suspect it must be very different from what you were used to. The Headmistress is not the cause of the decline in standards, but merely the instrument. This is a very tightly controlled society, ruled by the Dark Emperor through his Death Eaters and various agencies, such as the Ministry of Magic. Conformity, obedience, and compliance with the social order are encouraged; individuality, independence, and excellence are not. Exceptional abilities, such as yours are viewed with deep suspicion.”

Hermione's face went white. She had really stuffed up badly. Was she going to be arrested?

Professor Malfoy rose from her chair and placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder. “Miss Granville, I cannot allow you to come to Hogwarts — for your own good. There are those amongst the staff who report to the security enforcement agencies. If they became aware of your exceptional knowledge and abilities, you would come under a great deal of scrutiny. If you were lucky, you might be invited to become a Death Eater or join the state security apparatus, if not … well …. Please take my advice and return to your parents in Africa … and stay there.”

“But, err, you won't tell anyone about me?” asked Hermione fearfully.

Professor Malfoy smiled at her for the first time. “You must understand, Miss Granville, that it is both dangerous and pointless to speak against the regime. No sensible witch or wizard will do so … even if they are not in total agreement with its policies and practices. However, it would be a mistake to assume that because they are circumspect and silent, that they support it,” she said raising an eyebrow meaningfully as she opened the door to leave.

“Wait!” cried Hermione, desperately.

Professor Malfoy turned in surprise.

“Is your name Miranda?” asked Hermione.

“Yes, why?” she asked without surprise. After all, the names of the Hogwarts Professors were no great secret. Hermione remained silent and Professor Malfoy turned back towards the door.

Hermione had to stop her leaving. She tried one last desperate gambit. “Jason Trolove sent me!”

That did it. Professor Malfoy put her head out the door to check no one was listening, then closed it and took out her wand. She put a Locking Charm on the door, before placing an Imperturbable Charm on the whole room, so they could not be overheard.

Turning to face Hermione, she said, “Jason Trolove died sixteen years ago. You could not possibly know him. Who are you, Miss Granville?”

“Before I answer that question, I need to tell you something about Lily Evans — she was your friend at Hogwarts, wasn't she?”

Miranda nodded silently as she stared at Hermione, as if she were a ghost or something supernatural beyond her comprehension. She sat down again in the chair by the desk; her legs had become shaky.

Hermione returned to the other chair. “Did you know Lily was a Seer?”

“Lily, a Seer?” she murmured almost to her self, fixing her eyes on the wall as she cast her mind back. “Yes, I had my suspicions from little things that happened over the years, but Lily never talked about them — at least not to me. I thought perhaps she was embarrassed because we both thought Divination was such nonsense.”

“According to Jason, Lily Evans was the real thing; she really did have the Sight despite her own scepticism.”

“I am sorry, but I do not understand your references to Jason Trolove; you would have been barely born when he — and Lily — died. You are not making sense, Miss Granville.”

Hermione pressed on. She told Miranda about the visions Lily had in her seventh year, of the Future of Darkness and the Future of Hope and how she believed her actions — her choice — would decide which future would prevail.

Miranda shook her head sadly. “I knew she was going through something very disturbing in seventh year, which seemed to completely preoccupy her, but I never realised…. If she really believed in her visions and that her choice would determine the future, it must have been heartbreaking for her.”

“It took many months,” said Hermione, “but in the end, she was certain that the only way to prevent the Future of Darkness was to leave Jason Trolove and marry James Potter.”

“But how can you know all this?” asked Miranda sceptically.

“She confided it all in Jason, and I learned of it from him.”

“You must be mistaken, young lady. Jason died sixteen years ago, along with Lily — I was at their funeral. And what you say about Lily's visions cannot be true. I know how much Lily loved Jason, but I also know what kind of person she was: She would never have put her own personal happiness before the good of the whole wizarding world. If she was truly convinced that staying with Jason would result in this world … of darkness, she would have given him up. Of that, I am certain.”

“But that's just it,” said Hermione, “she did give him up, she did marry James Potter, and have a son — a son who Voldemort is —”

Miranda turned white. “Do not say that name! The punishment is death! But, I don't understand … how can…. Where are you from Miss Granville?”

“The Future of Hope,” replied Hermione. She explained to Miranda about the existence of multiple realities and that the two futures Lily saw in her visions represented two alternative realities. “The two realities divided on February 10th, 1977, the day Lily made her decision.”

“Are you really from another reality? A reality in which Lily left Jason for James Potter?” she asked, clearly fascinated.

“Yes,” said Hermione, nodding. She told Miranda how Jason had sent her and Harry back to meet with Lily and himself at the Shrieking Shack on that fateful day and how it had finally convinced Lily that her choice would determine which of the two futures became real.

“I remember that Hogsmeade weekend — because it was just before Valentine's Day. I had no valentine gift to buy that year, so I didn't go to Hogsmeade with Lily and Jason. What became of me in your reality?”

“I'm sorry, Professor Malfoy —”

“Please call me Miranda.”

“OK. Err … Miranda … in my reality someone tried to recruit you to become a Death Eater soon after school. You refused, and were killed.”

“Was it Severus Snape?”

Hermione nodded.

“In this reality, Severus also became a Death Eater and was ordered to recruit me. But I steadfastly refused to join. Then he tried to convince me go into hiding, to save myself, but again I refused. I knew in the end he would be ordered to kill me…. Did you know that we were together at school, Severus and I?” she asked forlornly. Hermione nodded. “And of the terrible deception James Potter used to break us up?” Hermione nodded again sadly. “I think I lost the will to live after that. I felt so terrible for my part in it and how much I'd hurt Severus. It was only then, that I realised just how much I loved him. But he was so wounded by my treachery, he refused to talk to me … and he didn't … not until the day he came to recruit me.”

“But, he didn't kill you.”

“When Lily and Jason found out I was being recruited, they wanted to hide me; they wanted me to move in with them, but I refused. I was ready to meet my fate, and somehow, dying at Severus' hand seemed a fitting way to end a life that had become so unhappy, both personally because of what happened with Severus, and in a wider sense because of the encroaching evil. But, unknown to me, Jason was keeping tabs on Severus. On the day he came to carry out his orders Jason, surprised him.”

“Did he kill Severus?”

“No, Jason wouldn't hurt a fly. But he disarmed Severus and somehow convinced him that if he killed me he would regret it all his life.”

“But, surely he had no choice … it was a matter of kill or be killed?”

“Severus had a change of heart and decided on a different solution. It was Rodolphus Lestrange who had decided to target me for recruitment, and who, when I kept refusing, ordered Severus to kill me. Severus thought that no one else knew but Rodolphus and himself, so he ambushed Rodolphus and killed him instead of me. He might have got away with it, too, but unluckily, Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange had cast a mutual revenge spell, which meant that if either one was killed, the other would be able to learn the identity of their killer and would be compelled to revenge their death. Bellatrix hunted down my dear Severus and killed him,” she said, choking back tears.

“And did no one else try to recruit you?”

“No, they couldn't. I went into hiding after Severus' death. Lily and Jason took me in and hid me until the war was over. With the end of the war, the Death Eaters stopped recruiting; they were turning candidates away. They had more than enough members to commit their evil deeds — killing everyone who'd fought against them, exterminating all the Squibs, and Muggle-born witches and wizards. Lily and Jason died, and there was nothing I could do to save them. I felt so helpless. I lost the only three people I loved; yet Severus' death somehow gave me the will to live, to carry on — even in this horrid world. He died to save me, and I owed it to him to live, so that his sacrifice was not in vain.”

They sat sadly in silence for a long while. “Is he — is Severus — still alive in your reality?”

Hermione told her how Snape had been overwhelmed with guilt and remorse after killing her; how he discovered too late that he still loved her despite what had happened with James Potter. The guilt had been unbearable, but he knew he could not leave the Death Eaters, so he went to Dumbledore and offered his services as a spy. Miranda was sobbing, but she urged Hermione to carry on, to tell her more. Hermione told her what an excellent potions master he had been, carefully concealing his nasty side, which she, herself, had experienced all too often. It was obvious Miranda still loved him after all these years. “I think he must still love you, Miranda, because as far as I know, he's never been in another relationship.”

“Nor I,” said Miranda sadly. “If you get the chance, when you return to your reality, please tell him I still love him and that I am so terribly sorry for what happened with James Potter. I was such a fool.” She continued sobbing for several minutes, before finally drying her eyes and taking a deep breath, and attempting to compose herself. “But you have not told me why Jason sent you to this reality. It must be something very important.”

“It is. It's to stop Vold — err, I mean the Dark Emperor, from triumphing and turning our reality into one like this.”

“But, how?”

Hermione explained about the Horcruxes Voldemort had created to attain immortality. She told Miranda the story of the deaths of Lily and James Potter and how Voldemort had failed to kill their son Harry because of Lily's protection. She explained how his rebounding Killing Curse had destroyed his body, but that the Horcruxes had kept his spirit alive, allowing him eventually to return.

“So before the Dark Emperor in your reality can finally be killed, you must destroy all the Horcruxes?”

“Exactly, and one of them is concealed here, in this reality. Many years ago, the Dark Emperor travelled to this reality and created a Horcrux here. Jason learned this from the Dark Emperor's mind. After concealing the Horcrux in Rowena Ravenclaw's wand, he returned, leaving the Dark Emperor in this reality to hide it. It was very cunning — no one in my reality, including the Dark Emperor himself, knows where the wand is hidden.”

“Jason was a very powerful wizard at school, but he must have developed quite extraordinary powers since then to be able to access the Dark Emperor's mind. What happened to him after Lily left him? He must have been devastated; he loved her so much.”

Hermione told Miranda how Jason had left Hogwarts when he and Lily parted, returning briefly to sit the NEWT examinations, and how afterwards he had travelled the world, searching for the source of magic. Miranda remembered his fascination with the subject when they were at school. Hermione told her how Dumbledore had summoned him back, posthumously, to fulfil Lily's vision and help her son. She also told Miranda how Dumbledore had used his own death to get Snape into Voldemort's confidence.

“Your reality certainly sounds far more real and alive than this one. Nothing much happens here; it seems dull and two-dimensional in comparison. Even the Dark Emperor seems complacent and lifeless — not that one would wish for him to be more active. So Jason sent you here to find Rowena Ravenclaw's wand and destroy the Horcrux concealed within it?”

“That's right. The hard part will be finding it.”

“I have no idea where it could be. I have never heard of it. I didn't know it existed, even though I am the head of Ravenclaw house.”

“Rowena Ravenclaw gave the wand to her daughter, and it has been secretly passed down from mother to first-born daughter ever since. Is there a student at Hogwarts named Anthony Goldstein?”

“Why yes, he's in Ravenclaw; he's the top student in his year.”

“His mother is a direct descendent of Rowena Ravenclaw. He may know what happened to the wand in this reality.”

“Or his sister, perhaps?”

“Anthony has a sister?” asked Hermione, surprised. “In my reality, he's an only child.”

“Yes, he has a younger sister, named Tanika. She will be in sixth year.”

“Of course!” exclaimed Hermione, piecing together the sequence of events. “In my reality, during the war, Rodolphus Lestrange led an attack on Anthony's grandparents' house to get Rowena Ravenclaw's wand. The Dark Emperor had learned about it and must have wanted it for one of his Horcruxes. But Anthony's grandmother was too quick for them; she destroyed it before the Death Eaters could get it. But in this reality, Snape — err, Severus — killed Rodolphus Lestrange before the attempt to get the wand. So, someone else would have led the attack, perhaps more competently. In any case, the result was different; they did succeed in getting it — the wand was not destroyed. Anthony's mother must have decided to have another child in the hope of a daughter to carry on the female line so that at some point in the future, she or her daughter, or her female descendent might regain the wand. But in my reality, the wand had been destroyed, so that incentive to have another child did not exist.”

“That makes a lot of sense,” said Miranda, impressed with Hermione's logic. She added sadly, “I knew Anthony and Tanika's mother; she was a year ahead of me at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, both she and her husband were murdered in the horrors of the Great Purification, which followed the Dark Emperor's victory. Mr Goldstein was a Muggle, you see. Witches and wizards who married Muggles were considered blood-traitors and were killed along with their Muggle spouses. Those married to Muggle-born witches and wizards were spared — but their Muggle-born spouses, like all Muggle-born witches and wizards, were killed. Children with at least some magical blood were also spared. It was a terrible, terrible time — there were many orphans. Tanika was only a few months old when her parents died. Their maiden aunt, an old friend of mine from Hogwarts, Gemina Morgan, took Anthony and Tanika in, and raised them.”

“Is Tanika in Ravenclaw, too?”

“Of course, she could not be in a different house from her brother.”

“Why not? One of my Gryffindor dorm-mates has a twin sister who was sorted into Ravenclaw.”

“More of the terrible pure-blood racism that followed the Dark Emperor's victory: Both Gryffindor house and the Sorting Hat were done away with. A special board, known as the Purity Assessment Authority, was set up to investigate the bloodlines of every witch and wizard in the land. According to their determinations, everyone was assigned a Purity Rating — a number between one and nine. One signifies roughly ten percent pure Wizarding blood, and nine signifies roughly ninety percent. Those with a Purity Rating of one to three go into Hufflepuff; those with four to six go into Ravenclaw; and those with seven to nine go to Slytherin.”

“How horrible,” said Hermione in revulsion. “So siblings will have the same Purity Rating and be in the same house. How is the Purity Rating of children determined?”

“By taking the average of their parents' ratings. If the mother's is six and the father's is eight, then the children's will be seven. In order to marry and have children, a couple must have an average of at least five, which virtually guarantees that those with a rating of less than five will never marry because they would need to find someone with a higher rating than themselves, and in this awful reality, everyone is obsessed with marrying someone with a higher rating. The plan is to raise the minimum average rating at which marriage is permitted by one point in each generation, so that over time, the purity of the wizarding world will be gradually increased.”

Hermione shook her head in disgust.

“If you were to come to Hogwarts, you would be immediately referred to the Purity Assessment Authority, to determine your Purity Rating. These things are taken very seriously, and in any case, it is required so you can be assigned a house.”

“But the letters I sent to the Headmistress were fabrications. I'm really —”

“Don't tell me!” interjected Miranda, urgently. “You already told me that you had to exist in this reality in order to visit it. I'm guessing you're a Muggle-born witch in your reality, but in this one you probably didn't even know you were a witch — until very recently. When you return to your reality, your counterpart in this one will return to her Muggle life. It would be best if I know nothing about her. You are a very clever girl, Angelina, so I am assuming that is not your real name, and that you have magically altered your appearance.”

Hermione nodded.

“Good. Please reveal nothing to me about your life in this reality — then it can never be forced from me. You understand now, why you cannot come to Hogwarts. The Purity Assessment Authority would see through your pretence immediately, and the consequences would be fatal.”

“But then how will I find the wand?” asked Hermione, feeling discouraged.

Miranda was lost in silent thought for a moment. “Perhaps Tanika Goldstein might be able to tell you something useful … I don't know. I can pay her Aunt Gemina a visit this afternoon; it's almost a year since I saw her last. You can accompany me. Your story about applying to transfer to Hogwarts will do nicely; I'll just say that you are in my care for the afternoon, so I brought you along. While I'm chatting with her aunt, you can talk with Tanika. Have you ever done Side-Along-Apparation?”

“No, but I can Apparate, I've passed my test, although obviously I have no licence in this reality.”

“That doesn't matter. Apparation is not monitored here. It is only taught to those who join the state security apparatus. Well then, let us away to Gemina Morgan's cottage in Chipping Sodbury.”

~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~

Hermione found herself outside the gate of a picturesque cottage in a pretty country lane. She followed Miranda up the garden path to the front door. Gemina Morgan was delighted to find her old friend Miranda Malfoy on the doorstep and welcomed her and her young charge inside. After a brief introduction in which Miranda told her the arranged story, Gemina called her niece downstairs to meet Hermione and suggested they entertain themselves in her room. Tanika was a friendly girl with black hair and dark brown eyes. She seemed happy to have the company of a girl her own age.

As they climbed the stairs to Tanika's room, Hermione decided to get straight to the point; she didn't have time to waste. As soon as the door was shut she said, “Tanika, I was hoping you might be able to tell me something about Rowena Ravenclaw's wand.”

Tanika was stunned. “W-What are you talking about?” she asked nervously. Her aunt had told her about the ancient family heirloom and how the Dark Emperor's Death Eaters had killed her grandmother and stolen it. As far as she knew, the only ones who knew about it were her family and the Death Eaters — and this girl was not a member of the family.

Hermione guessed what was going through Tanika's mind and saw how fearful she had become. “Tanika, can we sit down, please? We need to talk.” The girl gestured for Hermione to take the small chair by the desk and sat warily on her bed.

“Look, I'm not really a transfer student from Africa — and no, I am definitely not a Death Eater or anything remotely like it.” Hermione gave her an edited version of the two realities and her true mission. “The Dark Emperor magically concealed something evil in Rowena Ravenclaw's wand. I need to find it and remove the evil from it, so that in my reality the Dark Emperor can be defeated. I know what he has done to your family — apart from stealing the wand — will you help me, please?” Hermione implored her.

Tanika stared at Hermione silently for a long time, as if trying to decide whether to trust her or not. Finally she spoke. “I think I know where the wand is hidden.”

“Really?”

“There must be some ancient magic running through our family that binds the first-born daughter in each generation — the wand-bearer — to the wand. Rowena Ravenclaw has been appearing in my dreams; sometimes it feels almost as if she is calling me. At first I could not understand the meaning of the dreams, but lately it seems like she is trying to tell me where her wand is hidden.”

Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine. “Where do you think it is?” she asked.

“Stonehenge. In my dreams, I see the stone circles. I know there are other ancient sites like Avebury with great stones, but I have looked at pictures of Stonehenge, and I'm sure that's what I am seeing in my dreams.”

“Yes, I imagine Stonehenge would appeal to the Dark Emperor for hiding his … err, the evil thing he has concealed in the wand. Have you ever been there?”

“No, although it's not that far from here, about thirty or forty miles to the south, down in Wiltshire.”

“Tanika, will you come to Stonehenge with me?” asked Hermione, looking at her imploringly.

“What? When?”

“Now.”

“But … but how will we get there?” asked Tanika.

“Tell your aunt that we're taking a short walk. There must be some pretty views to be had around here. Once we're out of sight, we'll Apparate to Stonehenge.”

“But I can't Apparate. Can you?” asked Tanika.

“Yes, and I can take you with me, using Side-Along-Apparation.”

“Alright,” said Tanika, resolutely, after some moments of silent thought.

Tanika's aunt told them not to be away more than half an hour or they'd miss afternoon tea. Miranda gave Hermione a significant look as they left the house. They walked into the wood on the other side of the road; as soon as they were concealed by the trees Hermione took a firm grip of Tanika's arm. “Ready?”

~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~

Hermione had been to Stonehenge several times — in both realities; she had always found it fascinating. She knew the layout quite well and decided to Apparate to a spot behind the tearooms, expecting it to be deserted … but it wasn't. Two young men with long hair and beards were having a quiet smoke, out of sight … or so they thought. To say they were surprised when Hermione and Tanika materialised ten feet from them would be an understatement. At first, they were too stunned to move. They slowly looked at each other in horror, and then stared suspiciously at the joint they'd been smoking; finally they turned and ran. Just before they made it to the corner, Hermione whipped out her wand and Obliviated them. As they disappeared around the corner of the tearooms, Hermione and Tanika broke into fits of laughter.

“Did you notice the funny clothes they were wearing?” asked Tanika. “The strange cloaks and buckled boots; it sort of looked like they were trying to dress like wizards, although it wasn't very convincing.”

“I think they're wiccans, or druids, or pagans, or New Agers — something like that. Stonehenge is a bit of a magnet for their sort. Some of them like to dress up as witches and wizards; you even see them with make-believe wands sometimes. Come on, let's see if there are any more of them.” There were, dozens in fact, swarming all over the place; it must have been some kind of a gathering. “Oh well, they're probably good cover. No one will notice us amongst this lot…. Tanika, what are you doing?” asked Hermione. The other girl stood statue-like, her eyes shut.

“I can feel it, Angelina, the wand. In that direction,” she said, pointing to the centre of the stone circle.

“I wonder if it's … I know, lets walk around the outside of the circle and see in which direction you sense it from different points.” They threaded their way through the weird wiccans, or whatever they were. They were a noisy bunch, clearly in festive spirits. Tanika stopped several times at different points, and each time she turned to the centre of the circle.

“I thought as much,” said Hermione. “It's slap-bang in the centre of the circle!”

“But it looks like no one is allowed in there. How will we get to it?” asked Tanika.

“These wiccans are doing a great job of keeping the security guards occupied; let's dash into the centre, and I'll cast a Muggle-Repelling charm. Hopefully, no one will notice us; or if they do, they'll suddenly become preoccupied with something else and leave us alone. Come on.”

They ran to the centre of the henge, which was marked by a number of large rocks on the grass-covered ground. Hermione pulled out her wand and did the Muggle-Repelling charm. It seemed to work, because no one was bothering them or even looking in their direction.

“It's buried right here, in the centre of these rocks. I can almost see it,” said Tanika, staring at the spot. “It's been buried upright. The top of the wand is about three feet beneath the ground.”

“How long is the wand?” asked Hermione.

“Exactly fourteen inches.”

It was not going to be possible to dig up the wand — that would take too long, and probably require more than a simple Muggle-Repelling charm to be done unnoticed. Hermione withdrew her wand and pointed it at the ground between the stones. A Horcrux was not matter; it was spirit, so if it could be released from the wand, it should be able to pass up through a few feet of earth. But, would the spell work if she could not actually see the object in which the Horcrux was concealed?

Hermione visualised the centre of the wand three-and-a-half feet below the ground and uttered the incantation, “Animus Liberta.” Nothing seemed to be happening. Hermione stopped, and did the breathing exercise she had learnt from Jason to calm herself and control her anxiety. When her mind was clear, she re-focused it on the wand and gave the incantation again. Gradually, a white vapour began to rise from the ground. It continued rising up a foot or two before slowly dissolving.

Tanika jumped back fearfully when the vapour appeared. “What was that? Was it the evil thing that was concealed in the wand?” she asked.

“It was, and it is gone. Your wand is fine, but I'm sure you understand that we need to leave it here.”

“Of course. But maybe one day I'll get it back … or if not me, my daughter,” she said wistfully. “Will he — will they — know what you did? Will they know the evil thing is gone?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, they'll have no idea. Come on, Tanika, it's time to go home,” she said, taking hold of her arm. Just before Apparating away, she noticed the two young bearded men who they had surprised behind the tearooms looking at them in confusion, as if they were not quite sure if they were imagining things. Maybe whatever they had been smoking weakened the effect of the Muggle-Repelling charm. Hermione grinned at them and gave a small wave with her free hand just before they disappeared.

~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~

They arrived back in time for afternoon tea, where Hermione met Anthony Goldstein. He seemed much the same as in her reality, except this Anthony was withdrawn and guarded, but who wouldn't be in this reality? When the time came to bid farewell, Hermione and Tanika embraced warmly — they both felt sad they would never see each other again.

Back in her room in the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione told Miranda how Tanika had led her to the Horcrux and how it had been destroyed. “Thank you so much, Miranda, for your help. I never would have managed it without you.”

“There is so little opportunity to do good in this evil reality,” she replied with a sigh. “I am just happy that I was able to do some good for your reality, especially since Severus and Jason are still alive there. Please be sure to give Severus my message. I understand you may not have the opportunity to see him, but perhaps Jason can pass it on to him. And please give Jason my love, too. Tell him I hope, with all my heart, that he succeeds in helping Lily's son to destroy the evil one. I must go now, and you must return to your reality. I will inform Professor Umbridge that you were not up to the high standards she maintains at Hogwarts,” she said with a grin.

Hermione hugged her. She would miss Miranda more than she could ever have imagined missing a Malfoy. What a pity she was not one of her Hogwarts Professors. After a tearful farewell Miranda left. Hermione transfigured the hairclip back into her Muggle backpack. She was thinking of expanding it so she could fit all her Diagon Alley purchases in it, but then she decided it would be safer for the Hermione in this reality not to take anything home with her from the wizarding world. She threw all the wizarding gear into the trunk, transformed it into a toothpick, and then incinerated it with an Incendio charm.

She went downstairs with her backpack, paid Tom for her room, and gave him a generous tip to get rid of the rest of her Wizarding money and walked out into the Muggle world. It was the late night at her parents' dental practice, so the house was empty when she got home. Hermione removed all the cosmetic charms … even the tooth-shrinking charm … grudgingly, and used more cosmetic magic to return her hair to its normal colour and bushiness. She rang up the tour company and learned that if she took an evening flight to Paris, she could join her tour group there tonight. Maybe she wouldn't tell her parents about her magical adventure after all.

It was time to return to her own reality. She didn't need a wand for the spell that would take her back. Should she destroy the wand before leaving? In the end she decided not to. She would leave it for the Hermione in this reality to decide if she wanted to destroy it or not. From what Jason said, the Hermione in this reality would remember everything that had happened while she was visiting; she would certainly remember that she was a witch, but she would not retain her magical knowledge. She would have to decide what she wanted to do about it. It was time to go home.