Hermione Granger knew she wasn't a beauty. She wasn't even cute. She was a plain-looking bookworm, always with a concerned expression on her face and books under her arm. Throughout all seven years at Hogwarts, the only one to court her was Cormac McLaggen, and that was in sixth year, when all the other girls were already running from him like the plague. Moreover, McLaggen seemed suspiciously quick to move on when she turned him down—it could be said he didn't suffer at all. No, she didn't need him one bit, but it still stung... Sure, Viktor Krum liked her too, but he came from some backwater place—who knows, maybe the girls there were even worse-looking than she was.
Nevertheless, she knew something else. That beauty wasn't the most important thing in a girl's life; a girl should be disciplined and excel in her studies. That's what her parents had told her, and they knew what was best for her. And Hermione didn't just study well—she excelled. She wasn't just disciplined; she was extremely disciplined. After all, beauty meant nothing, but knowledge and discipline were everything.
Yet sometimes, she had doubts. For instance, when Ron would give her his homework to check while he ran off to snog Lavender. Hermione had liked Ron ever since first year, from the moment they met on the Hogwarts Express. He was from the wizarding world and knew everything about it, while for her, this world was an unexplored universe. Ron always had ready answers: Dumbledore was cool, Malfoy was a pale ferret, Potter was fine as long as he was on their side, Slytherins were sneaky, Hufflepuffs were dumb, Ravenclaws were tedious know-it-alls, and Gryffindor was the best. Hermione loved ready answers—they put everything in its place, and she loved order. She agreed with Ron because Dumbledore, the headmaster, was in Gryffindor himself—and who could be smarter than the headmaster, someone even more important than parents?
Besides, Ron embodied everything she had always wanted but had forbidden herself. He didn't want to study textbooks—and he didn't. He didn't want to follow the rules—and he didn't. He rarely washed, never brushed his teeth, talked with his mouth full, and scattered his belongings wherever and however he pleased. Hermione lectured Ron for his own good but couldn't help but admire him—how brave did you have to be to break every rule that the adults imposed on you like that? And he beat everyone in chess, too. Sure, the losers said that his chess pieces were old and experienced and practically played for him, but they only said that out of jealousy. After all, just because the chess pieces were magical didn't mean they could be that smart, right?
And where was Lavender now, and where was she, Hermione? Ron had dumped Lavender for her, so her parents were right when they said beauty wasn't the most important thing. They knew what was best for her, and now she was marrying Ron. Her parents were in Australia with their memories erased—they hadn't wanted to leave, but she knew what was best for them. Hermione desperately wanted them to attend her wedding and see how happy she was, but for that to happen, she needed to restore their memories and bring them back to Britain.
As soon as things settled down a bit after Voldemort's defeat, and Molly Weasley started talking about the wedding, Hermione began preparing to go to Australia to fetch her parents.
When James Potter informed Dumbledore that all the expected money had ended up in someone else's hands, Dumbledore told him not to spread the news just yet. Well, not told—more like made a request that was mandatory to fulfill. Dumbledore had gotten used to the idea of marrying Harry and Ginny to further unite the families of his main allies, but it was clear to him that without the Potter money, that unity wouldn't hold. It wasn't worth stirring up tension between them without at least trying to retrieve something. Who knows, it might work.
Dumbledore understood where the "Defeater of Voldemort Fund" had gone. To the defeater of Voldemort, who else? They should've put a magical safeguard in place rather than relying on paperwork. And it was all that fool Bagman's fault—they clearly told him under whose name the account should have been opened—but no, he thought it would sound more impressive this way. There's no worse fool than one with initiative.
Dumbledore toyed with the idea of convincing the former Harry to give the money to the current one. Why not? The boy was modest and conscientious—press on his conscience, and he might just hand over everything. Only it didn't quite fit with how he and Sirius had been thrown into the mud back then… though perhaps that was the house-elf's initiative, interpreting his master's wish to be left alone. It might be worth meeting with the boy, apologizing, admitting a mistake, and asking for forgiveness. Harry had always responded well when a wise, gray-haired elder confessed to his childish foolishness and tearfully asked a young boy for forgiveness. It had always worked before, maybe it would work this time too.
After all, the boy was so lonely and helpless now, he had no idea what to do with his vast wealth. Dumbledore needed to calm him down, offer him friendship and help, and remind him that friends were more important than any money.
But he couldn't go to the boy right away. First, someone had to gauge the boy's mood, someone had to bear the brunt of his initial outburst of resentment. Listen to his grievances, try to persuade the child, and if the intermediary made any blunders, well, that's what he, Albus Dumbledore, was for—to correct the mistakes and foolishness of his subordinates. It would be much better if the boy came to him, Albus, with grievances about someone else than if he went to someone else with grievances about him.
The boy was no longer eleven, Hagrid couldn't be sent to him anymore. Sirius would have handled this best. Still as simple and straightforward as a child, Sirius had easily found common ground with his supposed godson and had a huge influence on him. The boy loved him; if he was going to forgive anyone, it would be him.
Nevertheless, Dumbledore rejected Sirius as a candidate. If the boy forgave Sirius, he would once again have enormous influence over him, possibly even more than Dumbledore himself. And that didn't suit Dumbledore at all, because Sirius had always been unreliable, especially recently. Although Dumbledore had managed to control the rebellious Black so far, he could never predict what Black might do next. That's why Sirius had been sent to Azkaban, then brought back and kept close, but the years of imprisonment hadn't made him any more reasonable. And those words Black had passed on to him through James—that he'd rather drink away all his wealth than give another galleon to that blabbering old fool… no, Sirius wouldn't do.
Having failed to decide whom to send to the former Harry Potter, the wise elder turned his thoughts to the Black inheritance. If it hadn't gone to the current Harry, it must have gone, along with Bellatrix's personal vault, to Narcissa Malfoy, the genealogical heir of the Blacks. And Severus Snape often visited the Malfoys, and Narcissa was interested in being friends with him now that her husband and son were sitting in Azkaban, awaiting trial.
Dumbledore summoned a Patronus—not a phoenix, magical creatures weren't Patronuses, though he didn't discourage the uneducated from believing that rumor. It was merely a rooster of the phoenix breed, though from a distance, and in its translucent form, it looked quite fantastical. The rooster cheerfully flapped its wings and sped off to Spinner's End with a message from the spiritual leader of the Light:
"Severus, my boy, come to me immediately; we need to talk."
"Boy" Severus always struggled to decide whom he hated more: Voldemort or Dumbledore. At first, he thought it was Voldemort because he had killed Lily, while Dumbledore had merely failed to save her. Now Voldemort was dead, but Snape still hated him—for not killing Lily, who had destroyed his illusion of the perfect woman. As for Dumbledore, Snape now hated him for making him believe Lily was dead all these years, though the old man had ultimately saved her. Perhaps now his choice leaned more toward Dumbledore.
If there was one thing Snape knew how to do, it was hate. Well, and brew potions.
At the moment, he was brewing an order for the apothecary and indulging in the thought that now, for sure, he owed no one anything. The Dark Mark had disappeared, and the vow to protect the false Harry, whom he had thought was the real one, was void now that Voldemort was dead. Finally, he was free...
The translucent, glowing bird, vaguely resembling a phoenix, seeped through the wall of his house and, in Dumbledore's voice, announced that the latter wanted to see him immediately. Snape didn't know much about chicken breeds, so he suspected the sentimental old man had worked some magic again. While he was distracted by the Patronus, he missed the timing for stirring, and the potion was ruined—a simple, inexpensive potion, but still, it was annoying. Clearing the cauldron with a spell, Snape quickly gathered his things and Apparated to Dumbledore. Only after doing so did he remember that he was supposedly free now, but turning back halfway wasn't an option, so he entered the office of the Hogwarts headmaster.
Dumbledore greeted him with a shining smile.
"I'm so glad, my boy, that you responded to my request so quickly! Severus, we need your help."
"Who is 'we'?" Snape asked irritably.
"You know, Severus, how I care about the common good..." Snape knew, and he noted this with a sarcastic snort. Dumbledore preferred to take that sound as approval and nodded contentedly. "Just as the other members of our order do. We all place the spiritual above the material..."
"Especially the Weasleys—what else do they have left..."
"...but it would be unfortunate if some rather significant material values fell into the greedy hands of the enemies of the common good." Dumbledore finally completed his sentence, completely oblivious to Snape's sarcastic comment. "Think about how much harm they could cause in the wrong hands."
"Get to the point, Albus. What values, which hands, and what do I have to do with it?"
"Severus, I'm talking about the Black inheritance. After the supposed death of Sirius, it was passed on to the false Harry Potter."
"Everything with you is false, sir," Snape snorted.
"But the inheritance is real. After the boy's identity was revealed, there was confusion, and the Black inheritance did not pass to the real Harry Potter. It must have gone to the genealogical heiress, Narcissa Malfoy, along with the inheritance of her older sister. Narcissa has a good attitude towards you and may listen to your words, so explain to her that if she does not return the inheritance of Sirius to Harry Potter, she will have problems with the inheritance of Bellatrix Lestrange. And she will do the right thing if she gifts Bellatrix's inheritance to the Department of Mysteries."
"Am I supposed to go to her and just say that outright?"
"Well, not outright, Severus. First, let her know that her husband and son's freedom may depend on it."
"Albus, I can't promise her that. You have no influence in the Ministry right now."
"But Narcissa doesn't know that, my boy. Don't promise her anything; just say that you will do everything you can—and you won't be lying."
"Is that how you once promised to save Lily?"
"But Lily is alive!"
Snape had no rebuttal to that. Lily was alive.
"Fine, Albus. I will visit Narcissa and do everything I can," he said, smirking defiantly at Dumbledore.
"That's wonderful, my boy. I knew I could count on you. And also..." Dumbledore looked down shyly, and Snape suspected he was about to ask for some particularly distasteful favor. "The thing is, our former Harry is without support and he is so lonely... The boy needs help; he needs companionship, otherwise he will completely lose heart. Could you meet him and have a heart-to-heart talk?"
Snape, speechless, glared at Dumbledore in outrage. Dumbledore, smiling innocently, looked back at him with honest eyes, awaiting a response.
"You must be out of your mind," Snape blurted out when he regained his voice. "You know perfectly well how the boy feels about me, and yet you want me to do this?"
"I just don't know who else to turn to, Severus, and you've never let me down," Dumbledore mumbled sorrowfully.
"Why me? Why exactly me?!" Snape exploded. "Fine, let the werewolf hide somewhere, let Ronald not be suitable for this—what about that mutt and that upstart Granger?! What's wrong with them?"
The heartfelt sadness in the old man's gaze shifted to a calculating glint.
"I hadn't thought of Hermione, but she could handle it," he murmured. "Severus, I was right about you. I'll talk to the girl, and you help her get in touch with that… with Arcturus Travers."
"Albus, she has something to do in Australia. At the last meeting at the Burrow, she mentioned she had already ordered a portal there for today."
"Oh yes, her parents. The girl doesn't have any mastery of Legilimency; she could have problems restoring their memories. Severus, go after Hermione to Australia and help her there. She won't manage without you, and I know you have a kind heart."
Snape was categorically against this, so he didn't understand how or why he ultimately agreed. It slipped his mind how it happened that, while saying goodbye to Dumbledore, he nodded and promised to contact Hermione right away, arrange everything, and order a portal to Australia to catch up with her there.
How could this have happened? How?