Rewritten Destiny

Hermione felt some anticipation as she made her way to the appointed meeting with Perenelle Flamel. It wasn't her first encounter with the legendary couple, but this was the first time she'd been invited to meet at their home.

 

The door to the elegant Parisian townhouse opened before Hermione could knock. Perenelle stood there, looking remarkably youthful, with vibrant eyes and reddish-brown hair tied into a French plat. Despite her youthful appearance, Perenelle's demeanour exuded the calm and composed confidence of someone much older.

 

"Bienvenue, Hermione," Perenelle greeted warmly. "It's delightful to see you again. Please, come in."

 

As she stepped into the house, she was immediately struck by the exquisite decor—bookshelves adorned with ancient tomes, delicate tapestries, and a warm, inviting parlour where a tea set awaited them. Perenelle poured the tea, filling the room with the soothing scent of chamomile and lavender. Hermione couldn't help but marvel at the woman's appearance. She looked no older than thirty, yet Hermione knew she was over six centuries old, a fact that never failed to amaze her.

 

Sipping her tea, Hermione decided to break the ice with a light-hearted observation: "You and Nicolas always manage to look so radiant, although you've certainly done something very different today."

 

Perenelle smiled a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Ah, the wonders of alchemy. The Elixir of Life has its uses, but we have discovered other methods to maintain our vitality." She leaned in slightly, her voice conspiratorial. "It's not commonly known, but aside from the Elixir, we created an artifact that can restore our youth. The Elixir itself is now more of a safeguard, used only in emergencies."

 

Hermione tried not to gawk like some idiot, but she had just heard that not only had they found eternal life, but they had also found eternal youth? "Please tell me it's in the shape of a Holy Grail."

 

Perenelle just raised an eyebrow., "How ever did you guess"? with no small amount of amusement in her voice. Before Hermione could respond, Perenelle let out a chuckle., "Sorry, I couldn't resist. Albus had the same look on his face when he heard. No, it's also a stone, much like the Philosopher's, but we didn't publicise it to the world."

 

Hermione nodded in understanding; why. Why would you tell the world all your secrets? It's? It’s not like Voldemort hadn't already tried to steal from them.

 

"How have you enjoyed your time in France?" Perenelle asked, handing Hermione a delicate porcelain cup.

 

"It's been wonderful," Hermione replied, taking a sip. "The culture, the history, the magical community... it's all so rich and vibrant. I've learned so much, and I feel like I've only scratched the surface."

 

Perenelle smiled, her eyes twinkling with a knowing look. "France has a way of enchanting its visitors, doesn't it? Nicolas and I have found it to be a place of great inspiration over the centuries."

 

They chatted amiably, the conversation flowing effortlessly. Perenelle spoke of her and Nicolas's experiences throughout history, their work in alchemy, and the magical innovations they had witnessed and contributed to. Hermione shared her experiences at Hogwarts, the mystical sites she had visited, and her ongoing research into ancient mystical texts.

 

After a while, Perenelle's expression grew more serious, yet still kind. "Hermione, I've been very impressed with your insights and curiosity, especially regarding enchanting. You've shown a remarkable understanding for someone so young."

 

Hermione felt a flush of pride and curiosity. "Thank you. Enchanting has always fascinated me, though I've found it to be quite challenging. The processes seem so intricate and... well, error-prone."

 

"Indeed," Perenelle agreed, nodding thoughtfully. "Early enchanting is notoriously magic-inefficient. The margin for error is vast, and even the smallest mistake can result in significant magical waste. But that's part of the learning process. It's a pity you didn't go to Beauxbatons, they have a wonderful course on the topic."

 

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of her relaxed demeanour and the absence of her usual Occlumency defences. She had let her guard down in front of Perenelle, a rare occurrence. "Yes, well, there were a couple of reasons why I chose Hogwarts over Beauxbatons."

 

Perenelle leaned forward in her chair, intrigued. "Oh, so you did consider coming to France. I presume the language can't be an issue for you, then. So why did you choose one over the other?"

 

Hermione hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "It wasn't just about the academics or the language," she began, glancing at her tea as if searching for the correct explanation. "While logically I know that it takes just as long to get to both schools thanks to magic, if something happened to me, Hogwarts is closer for my parents to get to me. But it isn't just that, running away to France felt like I was leaving home, I had never really felt like I belonged and Hogwarts made me feel like I did." She had started spinning together a lie but ended up on truth she hadn't realised she felt deep down.

 

She zoned out of the conversation, thinking back to when she first came to be here. Why did she go to Hogwarts? The smart decision would have been to get as far away from Hogwarts and Britain as possible and study overseas, but the idea had never even occurred to her. That didn't make sense. It should have been one of the first things she thought of. What had compelled her to disregard that?

 

She froze for a moment as the realisation sunk in compelled? Had she been forced against her will to go to Hogwarts? Hermione's thoughts whirled as she considered her past decisions. The notion of being forced to attend Hogwarts, rather than making a conscious choice, unsettled her. It was an idea that hadn't crossed her mind before, but now it seemed disturbingly plausible. She looked up to see Perenelle watching her with a curious yet understanding expression.

 

Perenelle's voice was gentle, breaking the silence that had stretched just a fraction too long. "It sounds like Hogwarts has been more than just a school for you, a place where you found a sense of belonging and identity."

 

Hermione nodded, still processing her thoughts. "Perhaps we'll never know now whether it was the right decision."

 

Hermione nodded, though her mind still lingered on the idea of compulsion. She prided herself on her independence and ability to make well-reasoned decisions. The thought that she might have been influenced by something or someone else was disconcerting. She resolved to investigate this possibility further, though she couldn't bring herself to share these suspicions with Perenelle.

 

Perenelle seemed to sense Hermione's unease and steered the conversation back to lighter topics. They discussed the intricacies of French magical law, the differences in curriculum between Beauxbatons and Hogwarts, and the unique challenges magical students face in different parts of the world. As they talked, Hermione felt some of her earlier discomfort ease away, replaced by the comfort of engaging with a kindred spirit who understood the complexities of both magic and life.

 

Eventually, Perenelle gestured to the ornate box on the table. "Before we part, there's something I wanted to give you," she said, opening the box to reveal a beautifully bound book and a set of delicate, intricately designed tools. "These are for your studies in enchanting. The book contains advanced theories and practical applications, and the tools are some of the finest you can find. Consider them a token of our ongoing conversations and your promising potential."

 

Hermione reached out, tracing the elegant designs on the book's cover. She felt a swell of gratitude and excitement. "Thank you, Perenelle. This is... incredible. I've been looking for ways to study this, but the tools are so expensive in Britain."

 

Perenelle's smile was warm and encouraging. "You're welcome, Hermione. Remember, enchanting is as much about intent and understanding as it is about technical skill. The more you explore and experiment, the more you will learn about both the magic and yourself." She took a sip of her tea, looking a little coy. "Not to mention it isn't detectable by the underage magic sensors."

 

As they wrapped their tea and Hermione prepared to leave, Perenelle walked her to the door. The summer evening was warm, and the Parisian street outside bustled with life. Hermione returned to Perenelle, feeling a deep connection and gratitude.

 

"Thank you again," she said. "For everything. This has been... enlightening, in more ways than one."

 

Perenelle inclined her head gracefully. "It was my pleasure, Hermione. I'm sure we'll meet again soon. In the meantime, take care, and don't hesitate to reach out if you have questions or just want to talk."

 

After leaving Perenelle's townhouse, Hermione made her way through the picturesque streets of Paris, her mind swirling with thoughts of enchanting, the Flamels' secrets, and the unsettling idea that her path to Hogwarts might have been influenced by external forces. She was eager to delve into the new book and experiment with the enchanting tools, but first, she needed some quiet time to process everything.

 

As she entered the hotel where she was staying, the bustling activity of the lobby greeted her, contrasting with the serene environment of Perenelle's home. Hermione weaved through the crowd, going to the staircase to her room. She preferred the calm of her room over the elevator's enclosed space, especially when she had so much on her mind.

 

Reaching her door, she retrieved the key from her bag and let herself in. The room was a cosy blend of modern comforts and classic Parisian charm. She placed the ornate box with the book and tools on the small desk by the window, intending to examine them more closely after a shower. However, as she turned towards the bed, a small, brown owl perched on the windowsill caught her attention.

 

The owl, with its big, expressive eyes, looked slightly impatient. It hooted softly, fluttering its wings as it noticed Hermione's gaze. A thick, rolled-up parchment was attached to its leg, sealed with the unmistakable insignia of Gringotts Wizarding Bank.

 

Curious and apprehensive, Hermione approached the owl, gently untying the letter. She offered the owl a few biscuits from a tin she kept in her room for such occasions. The owl nibbled appreciatively before flying off into the evening sky.

 

Hermione unrolled the parchment, her eyes scanning the elegant yet precise handwriting:

 

Gringotts Wizarding Bank

Addressed to Heiress Hermione Dagworth-Granger,

In response to the death of Hector Dagworth-Granger, our records show he had no direct wizarding heirs.

Having completed a Goblin Ritual used to trace heirs from recently deceased Heads of Houses, magic has traced your lineage as the closest magical relative of the House. At this juncture, you are listed as the Heiress to the house; however, at thirteen, you are eligible to become the Head of House, Lady Hermione Dagworth-Granger.

There is more to discuss; however, such information is best discussed in person at the London Gringotts branch. We request that you attend as soon as possible.

Yours sincerely,

Tifnang

Account Manager

Gringotts Wizarding Bank, London Branch

 

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. The revelation that she was now Heir to the Dagworth-Granger family, an old and respected wizarding lineage, was beyond anything she could have imagined. The letter from Gringotts left her with more questions than answers, not just about her newfound status but also about the mysterious circumstances surrounding Hector Dagworth-Granger's death.

 

She had strategically planted the seeds to create a confrontation between herself and Hector, intending to leverage family drama. The plan had been to use this potential conflict to her benefit, perhaps by gaining access to valuable resources or knowledge. Yet now, Hector had died before any confrontation could materialize. Was it through natural means, or had foul play been involved? The timing and nature of his death seemed suspicious, especially considering her own machinations.

 

A shiver ran down her spine at the thought that someone might have finished the job for her. Who could have known about her intentions? Only a few people within her circle at Hogwarts knew her subtle disdain for Hector, but none knew the full extent of her plans. However, Snape had been privy to her disingenuous expressions of disgust. She had made sure to let slip enough to him, hoping to draw him into her scheme, though she hadn't anticipated the repercussions going this far.

 

Had Snape, or someone else, acted upon the information she had strategically leaked, believing they were aiding her? Or had there been another player entirely, someone with their own motives who saw an opportunity in the tension she had created? The idea that her actions, even indirectly, could have led to Hector's death troubled her deeply. A chain of unforeseen events left her feeling responsible despite not having taken direct action.

 

Hermione felt a complex mixture of guilt, shock, and determination as these thoughts raced through her mind. She had manipulated events with a clear objective, but the reality of a possible unintended consequence—death—was sobering. The weight of this potential responsibility pressed down on her, but she couldn't afford to dwell on it too long. There were too many unanswered questions and too much at stake.

 

She knew she had to get to the bottom of this, not just for her peace of mind but to understand the full extent of what had transpired. The upcoming meeting at Gringotts in London would be the first step. There, she hoped to uncover more about the circumstances of Hector's death and the responsibilities that now fell upon her as the Heiress of the Dagworth-Granger family.

 

Determined to unravel the truth, Hermione resolved to proceed with caution. She would continue to mask her genuine emotions and intentions, as she always had while seeking out the information she needed. With a steadying breath, she set the letter down and began preparing to return to London. The next phase of her life had arrived unexpectedly, and she needed to be ready for whatever challenges and revelations it would bring.