"Or about what inevitably happens to muggleborn children who refuse a magical education?" Mr. Granger's voice was a bit more pointed now.
He flinched and glanced at McGonagall, who'd paled.
"Or about how much discrimination our daughter will face in the future? About how many built-in advantages older families have? Both legal and magical?"
"Or about how only eleven years ago, Magical Britain was in the middle of a civil war, in which people like us and our daughter were hunted down like dogs and slaughtered by a guerrilla organisation, many of the members of which then skipped prison because they were rich and powerful?"
"About how if we became inconvenient for certain people, we could disappear right from our own beds in the middle of the night and nothing we did alone could stop that?"
"Now that's not true." That at least he could defend.
"Oh, really? How many muggleborn families survived the last war with the dark lord?"
His stomach dropped and his shoulders slumped. He looked into Mr. Granger's flinty eyes. When his voice emerged it sounded older than he'd ever heard it. "Okay, I think you've made your point. Perhaps we aren't as open as we would like to be with muggleborn parents. But what would you have us do?" He stretched his hands, palms faced out. "The truth would simultaneously enrage and terrify them, and alienate them from their own children. Many would blame them. Families would be torn apart."
Mrs. Granger reached for the bottle and poured herself a glass. "Some would, yes. But that could be ameliorated by doing what our lord did for us. He protects us. He brought us into his family and granted us what rights and privileges it is within his power to grant."
"Mrs. Granger, with the greatest respect, the wards around your property cost a small fortune and to give them to every muggleborn family would be far beyond the resources of Hogwarts."
She smiled, sweetly. "Well then, I will go to bed tonight happy in the knowledge that we serve a man who has not only the words, but also the powers to keep me, my husband, and my daughter safe."
He snapped. "Doesn't it worry you that you know nothing about this man?"
Mr. Granger smiled and looked him straight in the eyes. "Speak for yourself, Chief Warlock."
His eyes widened in shock for a flash of a moment. Mr. Granger knew something and the man's eyes were fixed on him. They were right there. He reached out his magic between them, there was a flash of white light, and he felt a sad little yank just behind his navel.
...
Daniel Granger stared at the space where, just before, the most powerful wizard in the world had sat. He leaned back in his seat and sighed.
"What happened?" McGonagall jerked up and whipped out her wand.
He clutched the golden head-of-house Granger ring on his hand like a child might clutch a blanket. "The headmaster attempted to use some kind of offensive magic on me - legilimency, I suspect. The wards shielded me, then ejected him. He'll be several miles away in a local park."
McGonagall swung towards the door, wand still in hand.
"Please stop waving that thing around, Professor." Emma reached forward and patted the far side of the small table between them.
McGonagall whirled back around and fixed his wife with a wide eyed stare. He could hear the woman's breathing.
"Why don't you sit down and tell us about how Hermione is doing. And yourself. We haven't seen each other for a whole year after all."
The old witch stared for several more seconds. Eventually she sat down and took a deep breath. "If… If Albus did try to use legilimency, then I apologise on his behalf."
He made a noncommittal gesture. "Maybe we'll have a conversation about that some other time. In the meantime, what about Hermione? How is she fitting in?"
The professor seemed to take a moment to collect her thoughts. "I have not actually had a class with her, yet. But I do have transfiguration with her at one o'clock."
He glanced at the clock and shared a quick, magic-is-awesome glance with Emma.
"She is in Slytherin."
Emma grinned. "Well, of course she is. Ambitious and cunning, sounds like our Hermione."
"Well, yes, but, a muggleborn in Slytherin… it is not going to be easy for her. You wished for honesty, and that is the honest truth."
He smiled a smile of glass and flint. "I think you underestimate our little girl's capabilities. And anyway, she has allies."
"Oh. Yes. The Greengrass heiress."
He maintained a carefully blank face. "Indeed."
Emma poured the professor another dram. "Perhaps we could quickly talk about healer training? It's something Hermione brought up after she got her wand."
McGonagall's face relaxed. "Certainly. Well, the options are…"
....
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