3,778Chapter 2: Consciousness
"I've got this completely under control." - Sif
"Is that why everything is on fire?" -Thor
Chapter 2: Consciousness
.Pat.
"There, there, young Mistress," a voice soothed. "Kreacher is here. Kreacher take care of miss."
Hermione groaned, her hand going to her head. "Eugh."
"Hey, twin," Sirius' voice broke her out of her haze. "Thought we lost you there. Mother was ready to ship you off to St. Mungos. Though, personally, I think she's the one that needs to go there, not you."
"Sirius," Hermione groaned.
"Uh oh," Sirius groaned. "It's never good when you use my first name.
"Hush, Canis," Hermione heard herself say.
"There we go, that's better," Sirius laughed. "Get off her, Kreacher. She's awake now."
Kreacher made a growling sound. "Of course, Master," the house-elf grunted and disappeared with a pop.
"You shouldn't," Hermione started to say as she sat up in bed. The bed covers seemed heavier than usual. "Shouldn't be so mean to him."
What? Kreacher?" Sirius scoffed. "There hasn't been a day we've got along, you know that. He probably tried to smother me as a baby."
Hermine groaned and rubbed her head.
"Ready to go to Diagon Alley, my young chick?" a low rumbling voice said, a salt and peppered beard peaked around the door.
"Daddy," Hermione bowled over Sirius as she ran into the man's arms. She leapt into his embrace as he twirled her around. "There now, my young lady. We shall keep this unwomanly behaviour between us."
Hermione grinned at him, feeling a sense of warmth from him that she couldn't help but want, accept, and devour like a half-starved person.
"You feeling better, my little phoenix?" the elder Black crooned to her. "Stress of going to Hogwarts and being on your own take its toll upon you, my daughter?"
Hermione found herself nodding.
"It will be fine, sweetling," the man soothed her. "You are a Black. Young heiress to the Noble House of Black, daughter of Orion Black, phoenix of the celestial pathways. You will fear nothing. The flames of your wings shall set the world aflame in your glory."
Hermione beamed at him, swept up in the pep talk like the eleven year old she had apparently become. "You make me sound like a Gryffindor, Pappa," Hermione said automatically, making her feel like she was one element in a very complex dual personality.
Orion Black scoffed at his daughter. "Gryffindor's House could only wish to gain one such as you, my daughter. May they dream never to see it come to pass. Come. Get dressed. We need to get your supplies before your brother paces a hole in our entry hall. You can wear your green velvet dress, since it's a special day."
Hermione found herself bouncing on her heels. "Yes, pappa," she said, moving towards the wardrobe.
"Kreacher," Orion's voice rumbled. "See that my daughter has assistance with her dress."
There was a soft pop. "Yes, Master. Kreacher honoured to serve."
"Come, Sirius," Orion pushed his son along. "Leave your twin to dress in peace. You are not five anymore and privy to each other's dressing habits."
Sirius make a huffing noise as his father pushed him down the hallway.
"Put your arms up, young Mistress," Kreacher said, holding out an emerald green velvet dress for her to wear. "Kreacher will make sure you look like a Black."
Hermione wiggled into the dress and felt Kreacher helping zip up the back for her. She felt him tying an ornate silver sash around her waist. She looked at the long mirror for the first time and gasped.
Her normal brown tresses of hair were a dark ebony black. It was like looking in a time machine. She recognised her old, or rather younger, face. Her cheekbones were slightly higher, a gift, perhaps, from her mother Walburga, and her skin more pale. She bared her teeth, expecting to see the annoying buck teeth that tormented her childhood, but her pearly white teeth were perfectly normal. She looked very much like Hermione Granger at the age, with subtle changes that indicated her genetic inheritance from Orion and Walburga.
"There you go, Mistress," Kreacher said, patting her down to take out the wrinkles.
"Thank you, Kreacher," Hermione said, wrapping her arms around the surprised house-elf.
Kreacher's eyes went wide, but his skinny arms wrapped around her, his hands patting her reassuringly. "There, there, Mistress. You'll be strong at Hogwarts," he said with a pat. "Bring honour to the House of Black."
Hermione smiled nervously at the house-elf, looking at him with a new respect. There had obviously been a time when the house-elf was more than the bitter, Muggle-hating monstrosity that he had become in her future. Well, what she had once believed to be her future. Now, she wasn't sure.
She didn't feel the gaping anguish of losing her previous life. Perhaps it had something to do with how she was "wished" or more likely cursed out of her old life. Now, apparently, she was Hermione Ankaa Black, daughter of Orion and Walburga Black, and sister to Sirius and Regulus Black. What that meant for her future, she did not now. She wasn't even sure if the future remembered her. Would Harry miss her? Would Minerva? Hermione felt her first true pang of regret. Would Minerva be teaching Transfiguration at Hogwarts? Would she accept her as this new person who had yet to prove herself worthy of any friendship?
Hermione straightened her shoulders and walked out her bedroom door, closing the door behind her.
Diagon Alley awaited.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
"Look, Damien," a pimple-faced boy sneered as he shoved Hermione down into the puddle. "It's one of those old history freaks."
The other boys next to him laughed. "Can't even dress right. They belong in the theatre." The boys took turns stomping in the puddle to cover her in dirt, and kicked her ankles to watch her flinch in pain.
"Or the circus," the other snickered. They made to kick her, and Hermione felt a crack starting to form around her normal control over her magic. She felt it rise up within her. Hot. Angry and full of the kind of wrath that needed no words.
Suddenly, a blur of motion slammed the older boy into the brick wall of the nearby shop. "Don't you have somewhere… more loathsome to be? Wallowing in a pig's sty perhaps?" an acidic voice drawled. The tall figure that had come to her rescue flung the boy into the others, toppling them like dominoes. He held his hand out, fingers splayed as if slime was dripping off them and their skin was coated in a fine layer of feces. "If you know what is good for you. You will leave. Right. Now." The boys were older, but not as intimidating as her rescuer.
The group of Muggle tormentors fled the London walkway.
A hand extended to her, pale and immaculate.
Hermione grasped the hand and pulled herself up, brushing her emerald dress with her hands in a worried manner. "Thank you…" she looked up to see his face.
"Lucius," the long-haired blond said softly. His voice was like velvet. "Lucius Malfoy."
The Slytherin boy bowed formally and pressed his lips to the top of her hand. "You must be Lady Hermione Black. Your father and mine speak highly of you. I'm surprised you are here without escort, Lady Black."
Hermione blushed, looking away. "I slipped away when my brother caused a scene down the street over there," Hermione confessed. "I wanted to see Eeylops Owl Emporium. The Hogwarts letter said I could have an owl, a cat, or a toad." She wrinkled her nose at the mention of toad.
Lucius tilted his head back and laughed. It was the first time Hermione had seen Lucius laugh. He looked sane. His laughter was warm. He extended his arm to her. "Come then, Lady Black," he said softly. "Allow me to escort you to Eeylop's away from this… disgusting place. Do you have your list?" He smiled as the enchantments on her dress caused the mud and water to roll off the velvet, making her dress look as pristine as it had been in the morning when she had first put it on.
Hermione nodded and stared at the extended arm. He had saved her from a gang of prejudice Muggles. All her life she had been on the end of the Wizarding elite coming down on her for being a Muggle. This was the first time she had been on the opposite side. In her childhood memories, she had always looked the Muggle part because she had grown up that way. Now, out on her "first" day in her "proper" dress to be seen in public, she had been shoved into the ground and kicked for being different. Being called a Mudblood seemed strangely passive in comparison. Taking in a breath and stifling the inner voice that screamed "that's Malfoy! MALFOY!" she placed her hand upon his offered arm and bowed into a curtsy. "Thank you, Lord Malfoy. I accept your offer."
"Lucius," he replied as he guided her to the Leaky Cauldron. "Call me Lucius. I will be prefect for Slytherin House starting this year, so if you have any problems, you will be sure to let me know, yes?" He spoke as if she were already Slytherin.
Hermione nodded, dumbly. She had a feeling he would be a lot less friendly to her if she was sorted into Gryffindor. It was a wonderful offer, however fleeting.
Lucius walked at her side as though she were an equal, escorting her through the brick separator wall and down the busy streets of Diagon Alley. People in the Alley scurried out of their way, almost in direct contradiction to how the boys outside the Alley had treated Hermione.
Eeylops was, oddly, the same. There was almost no difference at all, save the owls sitting on perches. Various owls hooted at her from their perches. Some of them bounced up and down on the perches. Some just swivelled their heads to stare at her.
"They're beautiful," Hermione said.
Hermione had never had an owl of her own. She had found Crookshanks, but had lost him during the attack on the Burrow. She had never found him. She had always adored Hedwig, and Harry's owl had always been kind to her, but she was devoted to Harry. A part of her found a kinship in the birds now that had found her inner phoenix. She wondered if there was a bird amongst these noble raptors that would call her friend.
Hermione looked around her. "May we go in?" she asked Lucius.
Lucius looked at her with a smirk. "Of course." He opened the door for her with a bow of the head.
Hermione rushed into the store, looking over the various owls. Lucius stood nearby, standing tall and silent near the door, his eyes never leaving her. At times, Hermione forgot who it was that was watching over her. His presence guarded her, and it was a bizarre feeling to be watched over by Malfoy in a way that was not a guard and prisoner sort of way. There was a power about him, despite his only being in his fifth year. He knew his magic, and he was willing to use it to her defence rather than against her. The sensation was… discombobulating.
Hermione found a rather drab looking owl lurking in the corner of the store. His bright orange eyes glowed softly in the dimness. She looked closer. "Hello, you," she greeted softly. "You have gorgeous eyes."
The owl shifted his weight on the perch he was on and talon walked closer to her, giving off a soft and dignified hoot.
She extended her fingers and stroked his feathers on his chest like she used to with Hedwig, and the owl fluttered his eyes lazily. She examined him, and realised that there was more colour to him that she original saw. As he stood in the light, he had a mottled brown wings and shoulders, banded cinnamon chest feathers, and dark black feathers mixed in. He lifted up his foot and stepped up onto her wrist and then shimmied his way up to her shoulder.
"Ah, be careful with that there owl, miss," a voice called from the counter. "He's a cranky one, that one."
The owl hooted softly and preened her hair with his beak. Didn't seem very cranky to her. "I like you," Hermione said to the owl. "Would you like to be my owl?"
The owl beaked her ear.
"I don't have any money with me, but I'll come back for you as soon as I can, okay?" Hermione said to the owl.
The owl hooted at her, clinging to her shoulder in protest.
"Oh, but I can't," Hermione protested. "My… parents have my money."
The lady at the counter brought up a large owl cage. "Here you go dear," the lady said.
"Oh, but… I don't have my…" Hermione started.
"All taken care of dear," the witch said with a smile. "I'll send the other supplies up to Hogwarts with the next shipment. Should be there before you even get there."
"But," Hermione protested, and the owl on her shoulder nipped her ear. "Ow!"
A soft chuckle came from the tall blond wizard that stood by the door.
Hermione glared at Lucius. "What?"
"I think he just told you what he thought about leaving him behind," the Slytherin said smoothly.
Hermione slumped. When she looked up at him, she half expected to see a mocking expression his face… the same mocking expression that his son would use to torment her after each jibe. But Lucius wasn't mocking her, he had a smile upon his face. It wasn't a broad or obvious grin, but it was a small curve of his lips on each side. It was… strangely disarming. She questioned herself, wondering where her righteous fury was regarding the Malfoy family and all who were a part of it, but found it floundering. This Lucius had done nothing but protect and be polite to her. This Lucius was just a student, like her. He was a child, albeit an older one than she was, but a child none the less.
"I think I'll call you Sagacity," Hermione told the owl. "Does that work with you?" The owl hooted a soft reply and nibbled on her hairline.
Hermione lifted up the owl cage and opened the door, and the newly dubbed Sagacity hopped into the cage perch so she could close the door.
"Well, that is one thing off your list, my Lady," Lucius purred. "Shall we work on the rest?"
"Hermione," Hermione said softly.
Lucius tilted his head to the side in question.
"You may call me Hermione," she repeated.
The corner of Lucius's lips curved upward and he bowed his head, bringing her hand to his mouth as he gently pressed his lips to the back of her hand. "As you wish, Hermione."
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Hermione ran into her father upon exiting who exchanged greetings with Lucius with an amused look upon his face.
"Here you go, my young phoenix," Orion crooned at her as he handed her a pouch of coins. "I see you have already befriended your first ally."
Hermione blushed and Lucius tilted his head. "My Lord Black," Lucius said with a bow.
"Young Lord Malfoy," Orion greeted. "I trust that my daughter has not made a pest of herself at your expense."
"It is not a problem, Lord Black," Lucius said. "It was a pleasure helping her find her supplies."
"Well, I need to find my errant son to insure he is getting his supplies," Orion said. "If it will not be too much inconvenience to you?"
Lucius shook his head.
"Very well," Orion chuckled. "My best to you, young Lord Malfoy." Her father patted Hermione on the shoulder and turned, disappearing into the crowd.
The pair of them flitted from store to store, with Lucius picking up his books for his classes, and Hermione picking up all the things she remembered getting the first time around with the Grangers. The last place the pair of them went into was Ollivanders Wand Shop.
Garrick Ollivander looked up from his desk, "Ahhh, Miss Black," Ollivander said with a smile. "Eleven years already? Seems like just yesterday your father was here picking out his first wand." He stood up with a measuring tape and fussed over her for a few seconds. "Hmmm," he said to himself. "Hmmm."
Hermione found herself looking towards Lucius, and he stared at her and shrugged.
Ollivander pulled various boxes from seemingly random places. "Here you go, try this one first."
Hermione opened the long box and pulled out a light coloured wand that looked so much like her old vine wand. She gave it a flick, and the top shelf nearby exploded. Hermione quickly put it back into the box, replaced the lid, and looked very guilty.
Ollivander looked at the remains of his shelf and raised an eyebrow. "Try this one, dear," he said, handing her another box.
Five shelves, two vases, a flower pot, a desk, and the cash register later, Ollivander handed her a dusty box that looked like had been sitting in wait for longer than she'd been alive in both lives combined.
She opened the box cautiously as Garrick pulled out his wand and repaired his cash register and shelving. Inside the box lay a dark red and dark brown burl wand. The varnish made it shimmer as though it were alive. She picked it up and felt a warmth grow in her palm. She flicked it, thinking of happiest moment of flight having obtained her true wings under Minerva McGonagall's watchful eye. The freedom of that moment had taken all of her pain away.
Vapours spewed from the tip of her wand. The vapours swirled around her and formed into the familiar form of her beloved otter. The otter splashed in the vapour and swam around her playfully, and the darted off into the shelves and disappeared.
"Well, Miss Black," Ollivander said with a smile. "I see the wand has chosen its witch. This is our truest constant and cannot be denied. Twelve and one fourth inches long, rosewood burl of an ancient tree struck by lightning. Dragon heartstring."
Hermione smiled, feeling as though she was reunited with an old and cherished friend. She tucked the wand into her sleeve automatically, smiling as the cool wood kissed her skin with the familiar closeness. She placed the coins down for her wand onto the counter. "Thank you, Master Ollivander," she said softly.
"You are welcome, child," the wizard said with a smile. "Good luck at Hogwarts. I'm sure you are bound to accomplish great things."
Lucius was staring at her as she turned to leave. He opened the door for her, bowing his head in a soft incline.
"You're staring at me, Lucius," Hermione said quietly.
"You have no idea what you just did, do you my Lady?" Lucius asked in a soft tone.
"A wand choosing a person?" Hermione replied. "It happens every time."
"Not like that, it doesn't, Hermione," Lucius said softly. "That was a full-bodied Patronus. N.E.W.T. level students fail at them."
Hermione looked at Lucius with a concerned look. "Does this make me a freak?" she asked, turning her head to the side.
Lucius used his fingers to turn her chin up to meet his gaze. His grey eyes flashed with fire. "Nay, Lady Hermione. It makes you amazing."
Hermione smiled as Lucius let his hand drop. He hoisted her cauldron and items in his arms as he continued to escort her through Diagon Alley.
"Hermione!" Sirius yelled as he ran towards her. "Where have you been?"
Hermione turned around. Lucius was laden in her cauldron, gloves, phials, telescope, brass scales, and her pointed hat. Hermione was carrying the rest as she conversed with the once elder but now younger Malfoy. Hermione figured the less she tried to think about it the better off she'd be.
"Malfoy," Sirius hissed, pulling Hermione by the arm to be behind him.
"Ow, Sirius," Hermione protested in pain, practically getting her arm wrenched off by her over-protective brother.
"You stay away from my sister, Malfoy," Sirius growled at him. "Hermione, stay behind me."
"Si… Sirius!" Hermione protested. "He was helping me carry my things."
"Malfoy helps no one but himself, just like the rest of his bloody family," Sirius answered her, shoving himself in between them like a bookend.
Malfoy's posture stiffened. "I assure you, Black. There was nothing I was doing that your father did not approve." His voice was cold and venomous, and Hermione was reminded of the older Lucius Malfoy, epitome of the Slytherin House mindset, only now, she was fully aware that another face existed for Lucius Malfoy.
Sirius glared at Malfoy. "Where is your cauldron and school supplies, sis?"
"In my cauldron," Hermione said, trying to get around him.
Sirius looked at the cauldron in Lucius' arms and narrowed his eyes. "I'll take that, Malfoy."
Malfoy's eyes narrowed, but he curled his lip up in disdain. "If you were truly worried about your sister, Black, you would have found her three hours ago, when the Muggles cast her into the mud." He thrust the cauldron into Sirius' arms, his fingers splayed as though what he had been carrying was toxic.
Lucius' head jerked to the side to look at Hermione. He bowed his head stiffly. "Good Afternoon, Lady Hermione," his said stiffly and turned on his heels and melted into the wandering crowds.
Sirius thrust the full cauldron of items into Hermione's hands and dragged her along behind him, causing Sagacity to hoot in protest as his cage slammed into her side as she tried to carry everything by herself without even a shrinking charm.
For the first time in her life, Hermione found herself preferring the company of Lucius Malfoy to Sirius Black.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Harry groaned as he peeled himself off the floor of the Black family tree room. He rubbed his head as sharp pain reminded him that the previous night's altercation had bruised him in multiple places. He pushed off the wall and rubbed his head.
He frowned as he brought his fingers up to his face and saw blood on them. Wonderful.
Hazily he recalled Hermione having been flung into the wall from the physical "discussion" between himself and Ron. Was it his blood or hers?
"Hermione?" Harry called down the hall. Harry rubbed his aching temples.
"Hermione!" he repeated. Frustrating, he called, "Kreacher!"
The soft pop of the house-elf's apparition near him caused to his head to spin slightly.
"Yes, Master?" Kreacher answered.
"Could you tell Hermione that I'm awake and want to speak with her, please?" Harry said.
Kreacher began to twitch. His hand shot out and grabbed the nearby photo album and started to beat himself with it. "Can't. Can't. Can't."
Harry lunched for the album. "Whoa! Whoa! Kreacher. Stop beating yourself. Tell me why you can't."
Kreacher looked like he was going to dive for another thing to beat himself with. "Mistress must call Kreacher. Mistress' main rule."
Harry grabbed the next album out of Kreacher's hands before he could beat himself against it. Harry countered the order so Kreacher would stop. "I take it back. I take it back. Kreacher. Stop. Please."
Kreacher froze after the please, very slowly relaxing his self-abuse.
Harry let out his breath slow. "Please, tell me why you can't fetch Hermione for me?"
"Mistress ordered Kreacher not to bother unless she calls," Kreacher answered.
Harry rubbed his temples. "Kreacher, you answer to me, yes?"
"Yes," Kreacher answered.
"Then what's the problem?"
Kreacher frowned. "Kreacher above all, serves the great and noble house of Black."
"How does that involve Hermione, Kreacher?" Harry said. "Hermione is a Granger."
Kreacher looked at Harry like he was completely mental. "Only one Hermione, Master." He shambled over to the abused wall. He reached up, pointing to where a blood smear was painted across part of the family tree. "Hermione Ankaa Black of the great and noble House of Black. Her word is law."
Harry scrambled over to the damaged wall and saw the blood smear over one of the name plates under a stylised witch with long raven tresses. Her line was connected to Sirius and Regulus Black as well as Orion and Walburga. He took out his wand and cast a cleaning charm upon the blood so he could read the name plate.
There was a small tear in the fabric of the family tree where her portrait sat as well as traces of blood that had permanently stained the fibres that made up the tapestry.
Hermione Ankaa Black 1959 -
Harry traced the writing with his fingers. How was this possible. Sirius had never told him he had a sister. He remembered staring at the wall for hours, studying the scorch mark that was once his godfather's place on the family tree. Sirius. Regulus. Those he knew, but Sirius and Regulus had never had a sister.
Harry dropped to the floor, grabbing the nearby photo album and flipped through it frantically. Hermione and he had gone through all of them together so many times. Family portraits and candid shots that chronicled the decline of the House of Black and ended with the death of his Godfather.
He pulled out the old picture Sirius had always spoke of fondly. It was from before Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor. It had been before the decline of his mother's sanity, and Orion Black's illness. It was a picture of a family gathered to send their children off to Hogwarts for the first time. Hogwarts Express sat behind them, ready to whisk their children away.
Harry peered at the picture and touched it with his fingers.
Orion and Walburga stood behind, looking stoic. Regulus was grinning wildly as Sirius' hand had reached over to ruffle his brother's hair and put up rabbit ears, but tucked in between them was a black-haired, bushy haired young witch that looked uncannily like Hermione Granger.
Harry looked up at the wall once more and realised something as he traced the line between Sirius and Hermione Ankaa Black. They were twins, and Sirius' portrait wasn't burned off the tree.
"I wish Hermione Granger never existed!"
Green energy of a curse had come from Ron's wand when he had sent some sort of curse at Hermione. Harry remembered it now. She had hit her head against the Black family tree and bled upon it, and then Ron had sent a curse at her, wishing that Hermione Granger had never existed.
Merlin.
Harry saw a line connecting Hermione to another portrait, but the portrait had been clawed out of the tapestry wall as if by claws. Padfoot's contribution to the family tree.
What was going on? Something Ron did had obliterated her from his timeline and injected her into the Black family. Somehow, he still remembered her. He remembered his best friend, Hermione Granger. How was that possible?
Suddenly, he remembered how Hermione had flown into the wall after he had slammed into her after Ron's well timed punch. He had been bleeding. She had been bleeding. Perhaps their combined blood had protected her memory in his mind? This was the kind of speculation he needed Hermione for. Harry cursed to himself and then cursed at Ron and then cursed in general.
"Kreacher," Harry said at last, staring into the picture of a smiling Hermione in between the brothers Black.
"Yes, Master?" Kreacher said.
"Is she well?" Harry asked softly.
Kreacher fidgeted. "Y…es."
"Kreacher, how is it that you serve me, if there is a Black alive?" Harry asked.
"Mistress asked Kreacher to watch over Harry Potter when not serving Mistress directly," Kreacher replied.
"She just asked," Harry said. "And you said yes?"
Kreacher shifted his weight and looked at Harry oddly. "She said please."
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
A/N: I figured the unintentional blood exchange between Harry and Hermione is what allowed Harry to retain his memories of his Hermione (and perhaps, that is why Hermione remembered herself back in 1971). They are imprinted on each other in time and magic thanks to whatever random badness took Ron's wish and warped it into reality.
This is far as I had typed out to get my bunny started. I'm going back to finish Looks Can Be Deceiving before I do regular updates on this story. Thanks to everyone who thinks it's work waiting for Looks to be finished. You all are the best.
I also figure that the only witch that could get Kreacher to choose to look over Harry Potter by his own volition would be Hermione and her use of the most magical word in the world—please.