Chapter Text
Malfoy,
Alcott wants me back in Redland on Monday, so I won’t be able to meet for our weekly session due to needing to finish several things up here before I go. He said the Grangers have made some great progress. He showed them some of my earliest memories of her in the pensieve. They were confused about the whole concept at first, but once they experienced it, he said they recalled hearing about such a thing before. More importantly, they recognized her every time and even remembered where she was and what the circumstances were.
He wants to tell them exactly who she is the next time they have a session and he wants me to be there for it. He thinks having more than one person there to confirm this news will be helpful. I hope he’s right.
Once he tells them she’s their daughter, he is hoping they will give him permission to use legilimacy to draw some of their own memories forward. He explained to me recently that, contrary to what many believe, obliviating someone is just a stronger version of removing a memory like we do for use in a pensieve. It’s still there, just faded and less noticeable. In the case of Hermione’s parents, he believes they are there, simply buried very deep, and dimmed to the point of almost being invisible to their subconscious. He has not had to use Veritaserum yet, and said that if he ever needed to, it would be for this next step.
I’ll keep you posted. Cross your fingers.
Potter
Draco was thrilled with the news from Harry and wound up sending his mother an extremely long letter the next day, simply because he was so eager to share the news with someone, and she was one of the very few people who knew about the entire endeavor. Her reply was equally pleased and she even commented on how she looked forward to meeting them someday.
Now that he knew what he planned to do after the school year was over, he had started allowing himself some liberty with his dreams and ideas for the future. No matter what he did, or where he went, he knew he wanted Hermione to be part of it all. He viewed the completion of his education as the final chapter in a book about his childhood, and the next steps he would be taking were the start of an entirely new one. He imagined a brand new book, the binding crackling open for the very first time, and page after page of blank space on which to write new experiences, triumphs, sorrows, hopes, and important milestones. And every single one of those, he wanted to share with his favorite witch.
It was hard not to get ahead of himself. He still had to take his exams, still had to go home for the summer and finalize details for his new position at the school. He couldn’t believe he was going to be a faculty member. If his Third Year self could see him now - that thought brought a snort of derision and a low chuckle. No, becoming a teacher was not something he had ever envisioned for himself, yet he felt absolutely certain that this was the path he was meant to take.
His mother had been so happy for him and had turned around and bought him an expensive leather satchel with his initials embossed in silver on the front flap, saying she remembered many of the professors carried ones just like it, and that she couldn’t be more proud of him. She’d sent it with Harry, who had found great amusement in handing over the large and elaborately-wrapped gift at the start of their most-recent weekly session. One of the many things Narcissa had taken to doing the “new way” was wrapping gifts and her bows were becoming an art form in their own right. The sparkling green masterpiece that graced the box his personal Auror had handed him was larger than his head. He couldn’t help the wry chuckle that escaped when he saw it, and made sure to compliment her on it in his next missive. He knew a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, too. She had been worried about what the next two years would mean for him, and while she was content to remain at home with her sister and great-nephew, she knew that would not be the best option for her son.
Glancing down once more at the letter from Harry, he refolded it and added it to the growing collection inside the secret book on his shelf before heading out of his chambers in search of Hermione. She had agreed to come down to the pitch with him where the First Years were all meeting for a friendly scrimmage and he planned to tell them he’d be staying on. He was pretty sure he knew what their reaction would be, but was a tiny bit nervous to make the announcement all the same.
He found his girlfriend curled up in the chair by her window, fast asleep with a book still open on her lap. He knew she’d been working herself to death with N.E.W.T. preparations, and he also suspected she hadn’t been sleeping very well leading up to her exit interview with the Headmistress. It had genuinely hurt his heart to see her so troubled and unsure, and he’d felt rather helpless through the whole ordeal, typically resorting to pulling her into his arms and simply sitting there with her until she focused her attention elsewhere.
After her appointment, she had been much more relaxed, much more optimistic, and back to her former cheerful self. He knew she was still dreading the end of the school year; if he was entirely honest, he was, too. This Eighth Year experience had been incredible, a true turning point in his life and he was sad to see it come to an end. All ten of them would be making some huge adjustments in the weeks to come, which was exciting in a bittersweet sort of way.
He wasn’t about to dwell on that at the moment, though. Instead, he gently pulled the book from her loose grasp and knelt beside her, tucking an errant curl behind her ear and placing a soft kiss on her forehead. She stirred and her eyelids fluttered open, a sleepy smile curling her lips as she registered his presence.
“Hey,” he greeted her softly, “You still want to come down to the pitch with me?”
“Mmhmmm,” she nodded and stretched and when they both stood, she wrapped her arms around his waist and gave him a squeeze.
“What’s that for?” he teased while returning the gesture.
“Well, first it’s a ‘thank you’ for putting up with my insanity over the past two weeks,” she mumbled into his jumper, “But mostly it’s just because I like hugging you.”
He chuckled and tightened his hold on her, perfectly content to stay put until she was ready to go, which didn’t take long. She knew he was anxious to see his young flyers and didn’t want to make him wait, so in no time at all they were jogging down the front steps of the castle in the direction of the stands. Upon reaching the pitch, they found all twenty-two First Years gathered together, numbering off for the teams and discussing positions. Usually, when they played in such a relaxed fashion, each side took on an extra beater and chaser so more people could play. Their preparations ceased, however, as soon as they spotted their coach entering the arena.
“Come to cheer us on then?” asked Christopher with a wide grin.
“Well, yes, but I also had something I wanted to share with you lot,” Draco hedged, “Would you rather I tell you now, or wait till the match is over?” As expected, a loud chorus of “now” settled the matter.
“Alright, here goes,” he took a deep breath and let his eyes rove over the group before him, “You might not be rid of me quite yet.” He paused and let them mull this over for a second, enjoying the puzzled expressions that met his announcement.
“Are we playing another match for the school?” asked Aiden.
“Will we keep meeting officially until the end of the year?” wondered Olivia.
“Are you running a summer camp?” Malcolm’s eyes grew wide at the prospect and Draco knew he needed to curb their guesses which would only get more outlandish the longer it went on.
“No, none of those,” he admitted and several disappointed sighs were heard, though most of the younger students simply stared at him with eager curiosity. “I’ve taken a position here at the school for next year.”
Whoops and hollers filled the air before he even finished his sentence, and he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. Hermione was giggling at his side, obviously amused by the response his fairly vague statement had received.
“What will you be teaching?” Andrew had the sense to ask.
“Well, I’ll be assisting Professor Weasley with his Defense class,” most of the First Years looked a little confused by this, but Draco continued, “But I’ll also be taking over for Madam Hooch, who is retiring.” Stunned silence reigned for roughly two and a half seconds before the group exploded with cheers of happiness and cries of “congratulations.” The tall blonde was tackled by several of those closest to him while the others were positively bouncing with elation. Questions and exclamations jumbled together as the novice flyers considered what this would mean for the upcoming year.
“So,” Draco raised his voice and waved his hands in the air in an attempt to get their attention once more, “Suffice to say, I will be seeing all of you in your Grade Two Defense class, and on the weekends when matches are scheduled. At the very least, I’ll see you in the stands, as I’m sure you will all want to support your housemates, but I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to find a few of you playing for your house teams.” He looked pointedly at Olivia and Andrew, both of whom he had high hopes would try out for Gryffindor in September. They grinned and blushed as their friends nudged them and patted them on the back in encouragement.
“Will you be living in the castle?” asked Christopher.
“Yes, I will.” This bit of news was met with more excited whispers and pleased expressions, which warmed his heart and reinforced the idea that this next step was truly what was meant to happen. “I’ve taken enough of your time, though, so how about you mount up and show me what you’ve got?”
They beamed at him and raced off to do as instructed, while he and Hermione walked towards the stands to sit and watch.
ooOoo
Harry sat in a bright blue wooden deck chair on the back porch of the Granger’s house in Redland, waiting for Jeanette to return with glasses of lemonade for everyone and feeling more nervous than he could remember being in a very long time. That feeling only increased as she reappeared and settled herself in the chair across from him, her brown eyes so very like her daughter’s studying him with a kind curiosity.
Alcott, who was sitting next to Harry and across from Edward, gestured to the younger wizard and spoke.
“I know I introduced Harry as my great-nephew when we first met. I must admit that is not entirely true,” he watched the Grangers process this admission. They both looked a little surprised, but nodded politely for him to continue. “He actually is a very good friend of the young lady who’s pictures and memories you have been familiarizing yourselves with over the past weeks.” Again, he paused and allowed this to sink in. As expected, both of Hermione’s parents looked puzzled and turned their attention to Harry as if trying to fit this new information into place.
“Oh,” replied Jeanette, “Did you go to school together?”
“Yes,” Harry nodded with a smile, “I’ve known her since we were eleven years old, since our very first day at boarding school together.”
The Grangers smiled at the young man’s obvious fondness for the curly-haired girl before turning their gazes back to Alcott, clearly wanting further explanation.
“The memories I’ve shown you are actually Harry’s, and now I would like to share another piece of information with you,” Alcott began slowly, “But I would first like to reassure you that whatever doubts or questions you have will be answered, and everything will be explained. I simply ask that you approach with an open mind, as you have everything else so far.”
Understandably, the Grangers now looked slightly worried since news that was prefaced by this kind of statement was often rather earth-shattering. Jeanette looked at Edward, who grasped her hand and nodded, and they both turned to the older gentleman once more.
Alcott pulled a photograph from his shirt pocket and placed it on the low table between them. It was one he’d not yet shown them, one of Hermione with her parents the summer before she started her First Year at Hogwarts. He had chosen that specific one because there was another picture taken in the exact same location with only Hermione in it, and her parents had seen that one previously. They had even been able to identify the hiking trail it was taken on.
Jeanette gasped when she registered what she was seeing and quickly snatched up the photo to get a closer look. Her eyes were wide and she covered her mouth with one trembling hand as she passed it to Edward for him to see. His brows furrowed and he studied the image silently for several seconds before meeting his wife’s frantic gaze. He put the picture back down on the table and pinned Alcott with a fierce look.
“She’s our daughter, isn’t she?”
Harry was stunned. He was definitely not expecting that to be the first conclusion anyone jumped to and he looked at Alcott nervously, wondering what would come next.
Alcott nodded slowly, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth, “Yes, she is.”
“She was here,” it wasn’t a question from Edward, but a statement. Alcott looked surprised, but Harry had a feeling he knew what the man was talking about.
“Last summer, a young woman spent a few hours fishing with me on the pier,” he pointed to the photograph, “She was older than that, obviously, but it was…it was her.” He turned to his wife, clearly struggling with his emotions, “You remember me telling you about her?”
Jeanette let out a small sob and her eyes welled with tears, “Yes, and I’m sure it was her at the bookstore, too.” She looked between the wizards seated across from her, “H-how? I mean…where is she?” Her breath caught and she looked terrified, “Is she dead?”
Before Harry could stop himself he was vehemently shaking his head and Alcott rushed to reassure her, “No, no, my dear, she is not dead. She is perfectly alive and is doing just fine.”
Jeanette let out a shuddering sigh but Edward remained silent. His expression was hard and at first Harry thought he was angry, but then he saw a muscle in the older man’s jaw twitch and realized he was fighting to maintain control. His eyes had taken on a bit of a sheen and the hand that wasn’t holding his wife’s was clenched in a fist.
“I would like to explain, if you would be alright with that?” Alcott asked gently. Both of the Grangers simply nodded.
Alcott waved his wand and a pensieve appeared on the table. He also produced a small case containing more than thirty vials of memories, most from Harry, but over a dozen from Draco, including the one the tall blonde had made to introduce himself to Hermione’s parents.
“You are familiar with this, of course,” Alcott gestured to the stone basin and both of Hermione’s parents nodded, “We will be viewing some more of Harry’s memories as we go, simply to give you a better, more visual understanding of the events that have taken place.” Again, they nodded and everyone settled in for what was sure to be a lengthy explanation.
Over the course of the next several hours, Harry told the Grangers everything that had occurred over the year the Wizarding World was at war, and Alcott explained how he had come to be part of the situation they currently found themselves in. At various points throughout, they entered the pensieve to see for themselves what had taken place. Thankfully, Harry was able to avoid showing them the more graphic or traumatic memories. They seemed to understand more than enough from the glimpses of the trio’s time on the run; their encounter at the Lovegood’s home, and their adventure at Gringotts. He even showed them a very brief memory from the Battle simply to convey the sheer volume of it all. He did, however, make sure to end on a positive note, and the last one he showed them was from the previous August, before Hermione had returned to school, when she had joined him at the Burrow with all the Weasleys for Sunday Brunch. Every so often, Edward or Jeanette would ask a question, or request clarification, but for the most part, they simply listened and watched, sometimes with tears coursing silently down their cheeks, sometimes with worry or sadness creasing their brows. Once the story had been told, silence hung between them for a moment as they contemplated all they had seen and heard.
“How do we get her back?” Edward asked in a voice thick with emotion, “How do we get all of our memories back, and how do we reach her?”
“Well, I have very good news about all of that,” Alcott’s eyes lit up and he leaned forward, “It is clear to me that your memories are very much still intact, just hidden. If you will allow me to help you, I believe I can restore them completely over the course of the next few weeks. It is a slow process, and often exhausting, as any form of mental strain typically is, but it is most definitely possible to do.”
“And reaching her is no problem,” Harry couldn’t help interjecting, “She’s finishing up her final term at Hogwarts right now, preparing for the exams next month.” He grinned at them, unable to contain his excitement any longer.
Alcott raised a finger in caution, though he was still smiling, “I would suggest waiting until restoration is complete before reuniting with her. That will allow time for your memories to settle and your subconscious to recognize what is truly real. It will also give us time to make sure there are no setbacks, since this is a very delicate process, you understand. As soon as that is finished, I’m sure Harry here could arrange a reunion.”
The Grangers were nodding along with everything the elderly wizard was saying and when he had finished, Jeanette looked at Harry imploringly, “You have seen her recently? She…she truly is alright?”
Harry nodded, “She was just at my home for the Easter Holidays,” he looked down and gestured to the vials they had not yet opened, “And these are all recent memories, ones from this school year. Malfoy gave them to me so you could see how she’s been doing.”
“Malfoy?” Edward asked, a brow cocked in question.
“Um, Draco Malfoy, yes, he’s a…classmate…a friend,” Harry stumbled over his words, not sure if he wanted to be the one to tell his best friend’s father that she had a boyfriend but figured he’d put two-and-two together soon enough, “He’s Hermione’s boyfriend.” The reaction from the couple across from him was classic; Jeanette gave a happy little sigh and clapped her hands together, her eyes bright, while Edward’s gaze narrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line.
Alcott chuckled at the scene before him, “Draco is actually a distant relative of mine, and he is the one who contacted me, asking if I could help reverse the spell. I think it would be best if we showed you a few of his, to put your mind at ease, and then tomorrow we can begin the restorative process.” Everyone nodded in agreement and Harry organized the vials in order from the start of the year on, finally picking up the one labeled ‘Hermione’s Room’.
“Ready?” he asked as he poured the silver liquid into the swirling surface. All four of them leaned over, diving once more into the pool of memories.