Unplottable

33 - Hermione

Given the circumstances, a trip to the Department for the Discovery of Lost Lines just for the sake of a research project seemed ridiculously risky. After all, it was a department of the Ministry of Magic, what's more, a decidedly pureblood-supportive one. Therefore, when she told Ambrose Bears about her History of Magic project and he suggested to take her to the DDLL, she was surprised, at first even a bit reluctant. Giving the subject some more thought, however, she decided that Ambrose, who had even managed to keep his job as a much-needed Unspeakable, probably knew what he was doing. Moreover, she knew she might not get a second chance to finish her project and get her NEWT credit, so she finally took him up on the offer.

After getting a permit to miss Potions class one afternoon to take her trip, Hermione let Ambrose lead her into Hogsmeade's post office, where the Unspeakable obtained a ticket for the public high security Floo entrance. The fireplace, neat, huge and embellished with an owl, the symbol of wizard post, took them straight to a fireplace on the second floor of the Ministry of Magic building.

Hermione had never been in the much-famed Ministry before. She almost found it a bit of a let-down - with its grey linoleum floors and slightly cracked paint, the building had the slightly dreary atmosphere of Muggle office buildings, she thought. Reading her face correctly, Ambrose told her:

"They are re-decorating now - that's one thing the new government seems to be doing correctly. Of course, they are starting with the official entrance hall with its main door and main Floo fireplace. They just haven't gotten around to this corner yet, but it will probably be made pretty, too."

Hermione couldn't help wonder whether Ambrose had chosen the upstairs, remote fireplace so she wouldn't be seen in the entrance hall. However, it also seemed convenient: After they had walked down the hallway and rounded one corner, Ambrose told her they had reached their destination, pointing to a shiny brass sign saying 'DDLL' on it.

"You just go ahead," he told her. "I'll go downstairs to pop in at work for an hour or two. When I'm done, I'll return here to check on you, and if you need more time, I can always go back downstairs."

"I didn't know you worked here," Hermione replied, surprised. "You always seem to hang around the castle."

Ambrose grinned. "I don't really need to actually be here a lot to work. If you are an Unspeakable, your own location is secondary. However, as I'm here, I might as well check how the others are coping and see a few things with my own eyes - my outer eyes, I should say. - Well, good luck with your research - I'll come and pick you up later." And with these words, he Disapparated with a small pop.

Hermione shook her head in confusion. Whenever Ambrose hinted at the matters related to his work, it made her curious, but she knew she wasn't supposed to know any more about it. She noticed her heart was beating strongly, because now she had to enter the notorious department on her own. She had been hoping Ambrose would come with her, but now he had gone. Well, it couldn't be helped. Hermione took a deep breath and knocked. When no reply came, she tried the door handle and found the door unlocked, so she entered.

The room was long, narrow and windowless; every single square foot of its walls was covered by bookshelves containing a multitude of uniform leather-bound books. At the desk near the door, an old witch with a neat, grey bun of hair and horn-rimmed spectacles was dusting an old tome reverently. She looked up and peered at Hermione through her glasses in a way that told tales of her near-sightedness. "Come in, dear," she said. "What can the department do for you?"

"I'm working for a school project in History of Magic, trying to find out the history of the four ghosts of Hogwarts," Hermione told the witch. She realised she was shaking: Would the witch call any kind of guards and take her prisoner because she was coming from Hogwarts? Of course, she wasn't doing anything illegal, and neither was it illegal to be a student at the school, which still had not been officially evicted. However, with a new government in place, and tales of people being arrested for trifles or disappearing altogether, you could never be so sure that abstaining from illegal activities meant you were on the side of the law.

However, the grey-haired witch batted no eye at her information, but took a leather-bound list from the drawer of her desk.

"Using the department files for research costs three galleons a day. Using the file globe is twenty-three sickles per use. A complete recovery of your lineage costs between forty and seventy galleons, depending on how far we have to go back into your non-wizard ancestry. You are a half-blood, I take it?"

Hermione suppressed her anger. Hadn't the witch understood her? Neglecting the question, she replied: "I don't want my lineage recovered. I'm just here for my school project."

The witch gave her a condescending smile. "I know, I know, dear. I was telling you just in case."

Hermione glanced over the multitude of books. This was no time to argue. "Excuse me, what is the file globe, and how is it used?" she asked.

The witch beckoned her closer and opened a chest standing beside her desk. Resting on a green velvet lining was a globe of solid glass, roughly the size of a water melon. Fighting the suspicion that its purpose was related to Divination, Hermione asked: "What do you do with it?"

"It tells you where you can find all the information that is not cross-referenced in our files," the witch replied. "For most wizard families, we keep files and family trees, so it is usually easy to find out who is related to whom. This is especially necessary if you are not only looking for paternal lines, which are usually connected by the same name, but also for maternal lines, where the name of the mother is lost for the next generation. Information of this kind is cross-referenced in all our files. Unfortunately, some wizard families also have Muggle relations, acquired by marriage or squib births. On these, we keep no information in the files, but if you use the file globe, it will tell you where to go on looking. In the basement, we keep copies of all British Muggle files on matters of birth and relation. As long as you are limiting your search for people born and married in this country, there should be no dead ends for your search in this department."

Hermione ignored the slight to having Muggle relations. This sounded to be too good to be true. Like everyone who works a lot in a library, she knew how it was: You followed up some piece of information in a book, but the book only took you so far. If you were lucky, it held a reference to other books. If you were unlucky, it didn't, which could mean that you had no idea which book to turn to. It wasn't reading the books that was challenging about library research - it was knowing into which books to look. In genealogy, where the logical link between two people was not always easy to find, this was especially the case. A tool that helped you find connections of this kind out was invaluable, Hermione knew.

Of course, if each use of the tool cost her twenty-three sickles, she would have to use it sparingly: In spite of all ambitions, she was reluctant to spend all her remaining pocket money for the school year in the Ministry of Magic, furthering its politics with her small funds. Therefore, she asked:

"How do I look for a person in the files?"

"All original entries are ordered per date of birth, and then alphabetically. These you can find in the green tomes. Then we keep reference books for all great wizard families, which also contain family trees with dates of birth. These are the red tomes, which are ordered alphabetically. But before you start looking, I must ask you to pay the research fee."

Suppressing a sigh, Hermione took out her purse and handed the witch three golden galleons. She hated to pay so much money, because she believed that libraries should be free for everyone to use, but she knew arguing would be pointless. Dropping the money in a small, wooden treasure chest, the witch asked: "Now, who are you looking for?"

Making a random decision about which ghost to start with, Hermione replied: "Dorothea Julia Wallich. I don't know the birth date, but I believe it must have been middle to late seventeenth century."

"Wallich," the witch said, respect in her voice. "Now, this was a respectable wizard family. Unfortunately, the paternal has died out in the nineteenth century, I believe."

With these words, she went to the shelves and Summoned one of many identical-looking tomes.

"Wallich," she repeated with satisfaction. "There you are, dear."

Slightly awed, Hermione opened the age-stained leather-bound book. She found that it was a family chronicle detailing events like births, marriages and deaths sorted by year. The last page of the book unfolded. Straightening out a large sheet of hemp paper made to last, Hermione found a family tree dating back into the twelfth century. There was a multitude of Wallichs, but also many other names connected to the great family by intermarriage. She felt like running her finger over the paper to trace the many names she knew, but thought better of it, fearing she might harm the old document she was holding. She easily found the Grey Lady, Dorothea Julia Wallich, who had been born in 1671 and had died in 1719, the year she had stopped teaching at Hogwarts. The Wallichs appeared to be of German descent; Hermione knew that Dorothea had worked and published works of Alchemy in Germany before coming to Hogwarts to teach. Her mother, however, had been a Flamel, Helen Caroline Flamel, married to Eberhard Wallich in 1666. Hermione smiled when she thought of Nicholas and Perenelle. Even the library books had told her Dorothea was a descendant of theirs.

Following the line down into the present, Hermione noticed two remarkable things: For one, Dorothea had had a son, Marc; he bore her name, Wallich, while a father was not specified. She must had had an illegitimate child, Hermione realised. Vaguely, Hermione wondered whether the son might have anything to do with Dorothea's reasons for leaving Germany and coming to teach at Hogwarts. However, when she checked the family chronicle, she did not find any more information on the subject, so she did not dwell on it.

The other remarkable thing Hermione found at the end of the line. Marc had had a son and two daughters; like all female descendants, the latter were not followed up by the family tree, as they had married into different wizard families with their own family trees. Of his three grandsons, one had died in infancy, while the other one had never married. Similarly, in the following generations, the family tree did not branch out much; by 1900, the line ended in an Eleanor Wallis, whose name was marked with a square mark. Hermione smiled to herself when she saw that Eleanor Wallis' mother, who had been married to Hartwig Wallis, was one Violet Weasley. Surely, all wizard families had intermarried repeatedly, but to have it black on white that Ron was related to the Grey Lady, if only by marriage, somehow pleased her.

Holding this family tree in her hand, Hermione wished for nothing more than a Muggle photocopying machine. All quick-copy quills in the world could not work as promptly as one machine. However, she had to use the tools at hand. Holding the quill up so the witch behind the desk could see it, she asked: "Am I permitted to use this for copying?"

The witch frowned, but maybe she could not think of a reason to forbid the use of the quill.

"As long as you don't get ink stains on the book," she replied.

Hermione set up parchment and quill and was about to start the time-consuming copying process when she suddenly thought better of it. Instead, she carried the family tree to the witch and pointed at the square mark behind Eleanor Wallich's name. "Excuse me, what does this sign mean?" she asked politely.

"It means that Eleanor Wallich married a Muggle, had no wizard children, and therefore the line died out," the witch replied crisply.

Even though she suspected a sinister attitude behind the witch's words, Hermione asked on: "Is there any way to find out more about this?"

"This would be a typical case for the file globe," the witch replied. "You can check if you want. However, I am warning you that each generation you check will cost twenty-three sickles."

Hermione smiled wryly. "I know. I'll see whether I need it."

She checked the family chronicle again to see whether it held any useful information on Dorothea Julia Wallich, but she found nothing she did not know already. Besides the family tree, the book seemed of little interest, so she set her quill to copying at last and thought about how to proceed.

There was no history to be found here in this place, just genealogy. In her research about the four ghosts of Hogwarts, this seemed to be of little interest. However, Perenelle had sent her here, and surely she had not only wanted Hermione to see that Dorothea Julia Wallich was of Flamel descendance; Hermione had known that before coming here. Therefore, there was a secret to be found at this place, a relevant secret, and Hermione was adamant she would uncover it. Maybe, of course, the secret did not have to do with the Grey Lady, but with one of the other ghosts. While the quill was scratching away to copy the family tree, Hermione therefore asked for the chronicles of the Slytherin family. Although she hated to admit it, the Bloody Baron, Marvolo Slytherin, was the ghost who fascinated her the most, because the sinister stories she had read about him somehow were more interesting even than the famous Alchemist.

The Slytherin chronicle was different from the first, even though it looked the same on the outside. Somehow, the paper was of a better quality, of a rich cream colour and rimmed in pale gold. The family tree was not folded into the back of the book, but came extra in a gilt wooden tube. Even in an archive like that, Hermione mused, riches could buy more comfort.

Once taken from its tube and unrolled, the family tree, an unblemished piece of the best parchment money could buy, showed that the line of Slytherins was long, but narrow. Following the tree up into the ninth century to the ancestors even of legendary Salazar Slytherin himself, Hermione saw son follow upon son, but besides the heirs, the Slytherins had not produced a great number of children. Vaguely, she remembered the Slytherin curse, which said the family should bring forward no more sons. Spoken in the early nineteenth century, it surely could not have worked backwards, could it?

Soon Hermione found Nero Slytherin, the sinister grandfather of the Bloody Baron, murderer of Muggle-born children and aim of the Slytherin curse spoken by the folk magician Gill Eston. As she remembered, in spite of his four marriages, each of them terminated by the premature death of his wife, he had had only two daughters, Eileen and Emily. While Emily, the older one, bore the already familiar square mark and had obviously married a Muggle, the younger one, Eileen, had been blackened out on the family tree: Lightening her wand for a brief second and holding it under the parchment, Hermione could make out some letters which seemed to spell her name beneath the blot of ink.

Eileen and Emily... Somehow, they intrigued Hermione. Seeing that the quick-copy quill was finally done with copying the Wallich family tree, she set it to its new task immediately. Now there were two more names she wanted to have researched by the file globe, she realised; together with Eleanor Wallich, that would cost her seventy-two sickles, more than four galleons. It was quite a sum, Hermione thought, resigning to the fact that she would leave a lot of money at this place. However, this was not just another school project for her; her conviction that there was something to be found out was steadily growing.

Even though she found the Fat Friar the least exciting of the ghosts, she decided to check his family tree next, so she would have someone more interesting to whom she could look forward for last. If he was truly identical with Fred Friars, a contemporary of the Bloody Baron, the Fat Friar was a disappointingly young ghost, but without the sinister aura of the cruel Slytherin. The only intriguing thing about him was that as a headmaster of Hogwarts, he had been erased from all chronicles. Hermione wondered what the chronicle of his family would say about him.

The Friars family appeared to be descended from a certain Abbot of Westminster; if she read the chronicle right, this position had passed from father to son for many generations. Hermione found this in itself remarkable and wondered whether the family of Hannah Abbot had a similar history.

The great-grandmother of Fred Friars, whom Hermione believed to be the Fat Friar, was Helen Friars, Duchess of Hufflepuff, another coincidence Hermione found noteworthy. Apparently, unlike his clerical forefathers, Fred had never married. His sister, Martha Friars, however, had married a certain Archibald Caden seven years her junior, bearing him a daughter called Alison Caden in 1904. No further information was given. Once more, a family tree ended in nothing - or rather, in no known heirs bearing the family name. Somehow, it struck Hermione as odd that all the three family trees came to some kind of stop just around the turn of the last century, but she didn't know what to make of it.

She would ask the witch behind the counter, she decided. Approaching her, she said:

"Excuse me, could you perhaps tell me whether it is coincidence that all three families seem to simply disappear around the turn of the century?"

The witch regarded her over the top of her spectacles. "Well, it might be coincidence, though it is likely to be influenced by the last Great Disease, of which you have surely heard."

Hermione had never heard of it; shamed by the witch's assumption, she shook her head.

"I am sorry, but I don't know what you're talking about," she said.

"Every century or two, diseases come up which kill only pure-blooded witches and wizards," the witch started to lecture. "It is not entirely known what causes them, but they seem to be connected to pure wizard genes. There was a very severe case around the end of the nineteenth century, and it was noticed that half-bloods did not fall ill. Back then, many witches and wizards believed they had to marry Muggles to keep the magic race alive. Unfortunately, many intermarriages of wizards and Muggles came to nothing - all they brought forth were Muggle children. Today, some believe that these Muggle children went on to become the parents of Muggle-born witches and wizards, but this was never proven. Therefore, I believe the whole practice a misfortune only fit to dilute wizard blood and foul up many of our greatest family trees. You see what these families came to - the Wallichs, and even the noble Slytherins: They married Muggles, and the family name fell into ruin."

Hermione thanked her and pondered this. The witch's unkind words regarding Muggle relatives angered her once more, but in spite of this, she was fascinated. She knew enough about Muggle science to believe her story could be possible, not due to a strange, magical curse, but to something as ordinary as genetics: If there was such thing as a magical gene, it was prone to certain illnesses. If you were parented by a witch and a wizard, you might get the illness, while Muggles and people with Muggle parents were immune. It made sense - it might be a possible reason for so many marriages between magical and none-magical people, if such trivialities as love weren't reason enough.

Having set her spare quill to copy the family tree of the Friars, she finally asked for the chronicle of the de Mimsy-Porpingtons. The witch gave her a crumbling, surely ancient book. Most of his pages were empty, Hermione found. Nearly Headless Nick's first known ancestor dated back to the thirteenth century; more than two hundred years later, the last of the de Mimsy-Porpingtons, aged forty-six, had been beheaded without leaving an heir. For more than five hundred years, the book appeared to have been waiting for her without any more additions. At least now Hermione knew Nearly Headless Nick's birth date, the twelfth of March 1446. She wrote it down into her notebook, not even feeling a need to copy the comparatively short family tree: There was nothing in it that seemed interesting, not even the family names of the de Mimsy-Porpingtons' wives, and the family's connection to other families.

She had to turn to other sources, she decided; genealogy alone would not do the job. For example, she would have liked to know for what crime Nearly Headless Nick had been executed. However, the family chronicles told her nothing on the subject.

Whom could she ask? The one person she had always meant to ask for books was Florean Fortescue, but between panacea and League, between Malfoy being made Minister and the threat to everything she knew, she had never got around to it. Maybe she could ask Ambrose to Floo to Diagon Alley in the evening? If once she got not only an afternoon off school, but also a trustworthy partner for travelling, maybe it was the perfect opportunity.

However, as Ambrose hadn't come to pick her up yet, she decided she would use the time she had to get a bit more information. She would, she decided, spend the money after all and use the department's file globe, maybe even get more information from the basement on Eleanor Wallich as well as Eileen and Emily Slytherin.

Seeing that her quick-copying quill was done, Hermione took the Slytherin family tree to the witch behind the counter. "I'm interested about finding out more about the last two daughters of the Slytherin family, Eileen and Emily," she said. "Can I use the file globe?"

The witch sighed. "The Slytherins - the extinction of that great, great family is surely, surely a sad story. It is quite natural for you to be interested in this tragedy."

Then she suddenly frowned at Hermione. "But how do you know of - why do you think there were two daughters?" she corrected herself.

"I read of Eileen and Emily in a family chronicle, but it was never detailed what became of either of them," Hermione replied. "I can see that Eileen's name was blackened out in the family tree, but I can't imagine why."

"She must have died in infancy," the witch replied, not looking at Hermione.

"If that was true, they would not have blackened her name - they would have just added her death date underneath her birth date," Hermione objected. When the witch did not reply, she suddenly guessed the truth.

"Eileen was a squib," she said, fitting the pieces of the puzzle into place while she spoke. "Her name was blackened out because it was embarrassing for the noble old wizard family to bring forth a squib. Worse, all Marvolo Slytherin brought forwards were girls, and one of them was a squib, while the other one married a Muggle. What a shame for the family, wasn't it? That's why he married another young witch in old age to have a son at last - his daughters had been a big disappointment for him, and he wanted an heir. But it didn't work, right? He tried to make her have a son in spite of the curse, and something went terribly wrong." Now she was entirely guessing, but the pale face of the witch told her she wasn't far off.

"As I said, it was a terrible tragedy," the witch replied. "You are probably right - back then, families bearing squib children often disposed of them by giving them up for Muggles to adopt, while they told the world the children had died young."

"This was 1911, or probably a few years later, when they discovered the girl couldn't do magic," Hermione said, her sudden anger as cold as ice. "This wasn't the Middle Ages - this was this century! How could they do that - give away their own child just because it couldn't perform to their satisfaction? Didn't the Slytherins love their children?"

"You must understand," the witch said, "this was a different time, even though it doesn't seem so long ago now. For an old family like the Slytherins, a squib child was a great embarrassment."

Hermione didn't want to understand - she only wanted to know. "How can I find out about Eileen? Can I use the file globe for this?"

"You can try," the witch said dryly. "The file globe has a magical connection to all things written down in files or family trees, everything secured in archives. If there is a written record of the squib child's fate, the globe will tell you where to find it. However, if the whole affair has been kept entirely secret, not even the globe can help you."

She would take the risk; but first, she would ask it for Emily Slytherin and Eleanor Wallis, as in these two cases success was far more likely and would show her how the globe worked.

"How do I use the file globe?" she asked.

"You touch your hand to its surface and say the name of the person you are looking for. If there is information to be found, writing of light will appear within the globe," the witch said, pulling her treasure chest towards her. Obviously, she wanted Hermione to pay before trying.

After paying her two galleons and receiving eleven sickles change, Hermione was permitted to follow the instructions. Somehow, she mistrusted the whole procedure. The last time she had been expected to see things in crystal balls, she had found the devices utterly useless. However, as she had paid for the use of this globe, she would certainly try it. She rested her hand on the cool, smooth surface and said: "Eleanor Wallis."

After withdrawing her hand and waiting for a few moments, she could clearly see the fiery writing in the globe's glassy depth: Eleanor Syldon, née Wallis, Wandsworth, Surrey.

"These are the Muggle files you have to look into - they will be stored in the basement," the witch told her. Quickly, Hermione wrote down the information the globe had given her. Then she took another two galleons from her purse, received her eleven sickles change and repeated the procedure, saying: "Emily Slytherin."

She had to wait only about two seconds, before the orange, glowing letters appeared within the globe: Emily Riddle, née Slytherin, Colchester, Essex.

With trembling fingers, Hermione wrote down what the globe had told her. Riddle - Harry had told her that this was the name of Lord Voldemort, of Lord Voldemort's father. If she wasn't mistaken, Emily was the mother of Lord Voldemort, then, the witch who had married the Muggle Tom Riddle Sr. only to be cast off by him later and to die of a broken heart. Emily's father Marvolo, Lord Voldemort's grandfather, must have been so disappointed - and probably, Hermione thought wryly, he had left his deserted daughter without any support, be it moral or financial. Marvolo had also left her newborn child to be raised in an orphanage. He had probably never known that his grandson would grow up to be a great wizard, the Heir of Slytherin, who would wreak havoc in the castle of Hogwarts even as a teenager: Marvolo Slytherin had died the year that Tom Riddle Jr. had been born. If she didn't despise the Slytherin family so much, Hermione thought, the whole turn of events would have struck her as tragic.

Encouraged by her success, Hermione decided to spend most of her remaining money on Eileen. Counting the silver coins in her purse, she piled up six of them; adding her last galleon, she said: "I want to try and find out about Emily, too."

The witch made an inviting gesture with her hand, shrugging at the same time, as if she wanted to say, 'if you want to waste your money, go ahead.' Hermione placed her palm on the globe again and said: "Eileen Slytherin."

She withdrew her hand and waited. Nothing happened. No fiery letters appeared in the glassy depth.

"You might want to wait a little longer - sometimes, the globe takes a long time, and I can't really explain why," the witch commented.

While she waited, Hermione packed all her notes and quills; she returned all the books she had used. Still, the globe offered no information. Probably feeling sorry for her, the witch Summoned one of the green tomes Hermione had so far not used at all; bearing the title '1911', it detailed all witch and wizard births of this year. Hermione felt stupid for not thinking of this herself, but the volume told her nothing: She found Eileen Slytherin's name, but it had been blackened out just like in the family tree, without comment about what had happened to the girl.

While Hermione was still leafing through the pages of the book in disappointment, there was a knock on the door: Ambrose had returned. He greeted her with a smile and a friendly pat on the arm. "Ready to go?" he asked her.

Hesitating, Hermione cast another glance at the file globe. Still, there was no answer.

"Don't worry, dear," the witch said kindly. "If the globe answers your question after all, I will owl you. You are residing at Hogwarts?"

Gratefully, Hermione wrote down her address. "This would be very kind," she said.

"Two sickles for shipping and handling, please," the witch replied soberly.

Knowing she was once more overpaying the Department for Discovery of Lost Lines, Hermione nevertheless gave her the money. If there was any chance to get the knowledge she craved, she would take it. Then she said to Ambrose: "Now I'm ready to go." They said goodbye to the witch and left the department.

Closing the door behind them, Ambrose asked: "So, did you find what you were looking for?"

"I'm afraid I still need to go into the basement to look at some files - if that's okay with you," she replied a bit timidly. "And, er, I'd really love to ask Florean Fortescue if he has any books that might help me. It was interesting to look at the family trees and see who is related to whom, but there are still many things I would like to know."

Ambrose smiled kindly. "Then let's go downstairs first before they close their office. We can always stop by Florean at night for a beer or two, and then you can ask your questions."

Grateful for his kindness, Hermione let him lead her downstairs to the Ministry's Muggle archive. She noticed that he was following small back staircases with chipping paint. Probably there were grander parts of the Ministry of Magic, but Ambrose appeared to avoid them.

The Muggle archive was situated in a darkish, slightly musty room down in the basement. It, too, did not belong to the grand parts of the Ministry; in fact, it looked neglected. However, it appeared to be sufficiently useful for actually having staff, namely an old, thick-glassed wizard shuffling files from one table to the other. When he saw Hermione and Ambrose, his wrinkled face broke into a wide smile. Probably, Hermione thought, not many people came to see him and to ask him for assistance.

Hermione showed him her notes and explained which files she wanted. Quickly, the wizard Summoned two volumes holding Muggle certificates of births, marriages and deaths.

She had been right about Emily Riddle, Hermione realised: Marvolo Slytherin's older daughter had married a Muggle called Tom Riddle and had born a son called Tom Marvolo Riddle, dying in the same year as her father. This confirmed, Hermione turned to the second volume to look for Eleanor Syldon, née Wallis.

The last known descendant of the Grey Lady had indeed married a Muggle called Nigel Syldon; her only daughter, Daisy Syldon, born in 1932, had married a Harry Evans. Just out of curiosity, Hermione asked the helpful wizard whether she could follow the line into the next generation. This required a different volume of files, those that held the certificates of the Evans family. A Summoning later, she held in her hand what she had asked for and looked up what had become of Daisy Evans, née Syldon. When she found out, she was completely taken aback: Daisy and Nigel Syldon had had two daughters, Lily and Petunia. This, she realised, could not be coincidence.

Harry's mother had not been Muggle-born after all; or rather, she had not been entirely without witch and wizard ancestry. In fact, Lily Potter had been a direct descendant of Dorothea Julia Wallis, the Grey Lady of Hogwarts, as well as a descendant of Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel - and so was Harry.

Hermione remembered the pictures Harry had shown her - pictures of a father who looked like Harry, and a mother with vivid red hair. She thought of Lily's great-grandmother, Violet Weasley, and smiled to herself. Harry was related to the Weasley family, however distantly. He had to be something like a sixth or seventh degree cousin to Ron. She could already imagine her two friends' faces when she told them, Hermione thought, warmth rising up in her heart. It was like a little gift only she could give them.

The joy of it washed away the faint, dull pain of not being part of it: Everybody, even Harry, the orphan, had great and famous witch and wizard ancestors; only she, the mudblood, had no noteworthy family tree. Eagerly taking notes, Hermione wiped away such treacherous, dark thoughts. Her discovery amazed and delighted her. Somehow, she felt as if she had found what she had been looking for. Of course, that was a bit silly, she told herself. If there was something truly interesting to be found out about the ghost of the Ravenclaw, this something would not be a blood relation to one of her best friends. It would be something of interest to many, not just to her. However, ratio could not wash away the feeling that she had uncovered a treasure, just as jealousy had not been able to spoil it.

"Imagine, the Grey Lady was an ancestor of Harry's mum," she told Ambrose.

The dark-skinned wizard raised an eyebrow at her. "Really? Well, now that's something." Clearly, he was not truly impressed, only pretending to be to please her. Of course, the discovery meant far less to him than to her.

After returning the files to the old wizard with words of thanks, Hermione told Ambrose she was ready to go. There was no point looking for Eileen Slytherin here before she knew more about her.

Ambrose led her to an old, clean-swept fireplace in the basement. The Ministry appeared to have a number of entries, and Ambrose probably knew them all. Handing her his tin of Floo powder, he told her the direction: "Fortescue, Diagon Alley."

Hermione nodded and helped herself. Repeating his words, she travelled towards the ice-cream selling League member by speeding through the strange and dusty channels of the Floo network.

^{~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~}

Ambrose and Hermione arrived in Florean Fortescue's living room in a cloud of dust and ashes. Florean was in a heated discussion with a guest; Hermione was surprised to recognise Roary Lyons as the wizard relaxing in one of Florean's squashy armchairs.

"Wow, look, we've ran into a meeting of our superiors," Ambrose commented. "Hello, Mr. President, nice to see you. Any progress on our little American project?"

Roary cast Ambrose a look that wasn't exactly kind. "Ambrose, may I remind you that as a member of this organisation, you are sworn to secrecy?"

Ambrose swallowed his reply, a visibly physical process; it was the first time Hermione had ever seen him look embarrassed. "Sure, Roary. My apologies," he finally said.

The implication of the dialogue began to sink in. Hermione cast Ambrose a questioning look. Ambrose shrugged. Roary was the president of the League? Surely she had misinterpreted the remark.

"So what can I do for you?" Florean asked, obviously trying to ease the tension.

"We just stopped by to say hello," Ambrose said. "We were hoping to have a beer or two with you. Also, this young lady wanted to ask you about history books, especially something on the history of the four ghosts of Hogwarts. We've just been to the DDLL, and she is hoping to complete her studies beyond what is available in Hogwarts."

Florean thought for a moment. "Yes, I think I may have just the thing. Ambrose, get the beer, please - you know where it's kept." He tossed the Unspeakable a set of keys. Obviously, this was not the first time Ambrose stopped by here to have a beer - or two, for that matter.

Left alone, Roary and Hermione found themselves eyeing each other. Hermione did not quite know what to make of him, maybe because he was too complex. Roary was the easy-going American friend and band member of Professor Varlerta, the highly attractive singer admired by females, but only interested in men. He was her Potions teacher and therefore someone she had learned to call 'Professor' - someone whose class she had just missed today, someone who was obliged to forbid her drink beer with the adults tonight. Was he really a League member, what's more, the highest-ranking League member there was? At first, she found it hard to imagine. Then she wondered whether it might be true.

"You're not telling me anything, because I'm too junior to know about such things." Although phrased and intonated as a statement, Hermione was expecting a confirmation or denial as response.

"If my status was known, I'd run a very high risk of being assassinated," the American wizard replied. "We've had spies in the League before. Nobody believes you are one of them, mind you - but we have certain policies regarding the distribution of knowledge, and they apply to you, too. Please don't spread the news."

So it was true. Amazed, Hermione was quiet for a while. Then she said: "The other League members don't keep their status secret. Everybody knows that Penthesilea is a League member, for example."

This might be less than polite, but Hermione felt she had to know. If she didn't ask, she would think Roary a coward. She would respect him and the whole organisation less. Being a League member was risky; she knew she would get in trouble at school if she was ever caught sneaking off to the League camp for nightly meetings. She didn't want to think that the head of the organisation let others take risks in his stead.

"That was her decision, and I would have advised her to keep quiet about it, just as I advise you not to tell anybody about your own membership," Roary replied. "You know how many League members were assassinated even before magical Britain elected a Voldemort-friendly government."

Before she could reply, Ambrose returned with the beer. He set one slim bottle in front of each of the four chairs.

"You don't happen to have brought some Butterbeer?" Hermione asked, very conscious of the teacher's presence.

Ambrose tapped the bottle with his wand. "Tauscherá!" he said, and her beer turned into the popular low-alcohol wizard beverage.

Now Florean returned with three books which he placed on the table in front of Hermione. "These should help you," he said. "I've set the nagging spell to three months. If you still need the books after they've become a nuisance, tell me and I'll re-spell them for some time."

Seeing her questioning look, he explained: "I like my books to be returned to me. If you keep them too long, they start grumbling."

Books were too fascinating to Hermione to keep them on the table. She picked one up and looked at the table of contents. The chapters apparently detailed several events in medieval and Renaissance wizard history. One chapter heading struck her immediately: The orphanage battle, 1492. Nearly Headless Nick's death year, she thought. Unable to resist, she opened the book at the beginning of the chapter while the males started drinking their beers.

Her eyes glided over lines and lines of writing, taking in the most important aspects in full speed. Later, she would re-read the whole thing and take notes, but for now, all she wanted was a quick impression. The chapter detailed the ancient practice of killing Muggle-born children - and killing their Muggle-born parents if necessary, too. A group of witches and wizards had decided to fight that practice; they had set up an orphanage where they kept Muggle-born children safe and taught them how to do magic and how to defend themselves against pureblood fanatics.

In the year 1492, the orphanage had been overrun by a group of fierce wizard warriors. While several witches and wizards had been able to get away with some of the children, others had held the invaders at the door, only to be killed or captured.

Dismayed by what she was reading, Hermione came to the paragraph which chilled her the most. According to the law of these days, it was forbidden to hide or raise Muggle-born children. The heroic witches and wizards who had risked their lives for the children were seen as criminals before the law. As such, their act of self-defence was seen as murder. One member of the defenders, who had killed several attackers at the battle, was sentenced to Death and publicly executed on October 31^st, 1492 - Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington.

Hermione found it hard to believe that such a pretentious, silly person like Nearly Headless Nick had died for such heroic reasons. Maybe he was a true Gryffindor after all! Deciding she would read the whole chapter before she went to sleep, Hermione closed the book. She didn't want Florean, Roary and Ambrose to think she was impolite, after all.

The rest of the evening turned out quite entertaining, although nothing of true importance to Hermione was discussed. Florean and Roary talked about rock music; convinced that at her age, she had a special interest in them, Florean played a number of newly released CDs to her. Hermione smiled politely, amused that such important wizards as Florean and Roary would care so much for something she found so secondary. Ambrose told some decidedly off-colour jokes about Lucius Malfoy; nobody seemed to believe that as a minor she wasn't fit to hear them. Suddenly she realised that they saw her almost as an adult; not even Roary, sorry, Professor Lyons, believed she was someone who needed special protection from the world. He would have let her drink real beer, too, she realised.

Only after eleven o'clock, quite past Hermione's usual bedtime, Ambrose asked her whether she wanted to go home. She said she did; she was enjoying herself, but she knew she had to rise quite early in the morning, and she still wanted to read the chapter about Nearly Headless Nick. While everybody was saying their goodbyes, she hid a yawn behind her hand. It had been a long, long day.

The post office of Hogsmeade with its large, public Floo entrance was closed, of course, so Ambrose told her to Floo into the fireplace of Fred and George. Of course, this meant another delay for them, because they could not possibly use their fireplace without even saying hello.

They found George, Fred and Angelina seated at the kitchen table, brooding over marketable devices that would drive future generations of teachers and parents insane. Hermione took care not to eye the three of them curiously. Ginny had told her that during Fred's illness, his girlfriend Angelina had become close to George, and that things were a bit confusing between all of them. However, it was none of her business, she told herself, and on first sight, the trio seemed quite agreeable and happy. They offered Ambrose and Hermione crackers and more beer, but Hermione declined, longing for her bed, and Ambrose followed suit. They walked the distance to their broomsticks, which were chained to the wall of the post office, and zoomed home.

Hermione let Ambrose open the front door of the castle, keeping from him the fact that she knew the magic word to open it, too: He wasn't exactly a teacher, but rather a fellow League member who had to suspect she knew how to leave the castle, but you never knew with chaperones. Be they teachers, parents or other friendly adults: One minute they trusted you with almost everything, one minute they seemed to believe you couldn't tie your shoelaces on your own.

Ambrose said goodbye to her with a half-hug and waved away her words of thanks for taking her to the Ministry. In good spirits, but very tired, Hermione climbed up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower and sneaked into her four-poster bed.

She knew it was time to sleep, and she reminded herself how tired she had been, how eager to get into her bed. Now that she was lying in it, however, she felt her mind twist and turn the event of the day over and over again. Before her tired, closed eyes, all she could see was family trees, neat inch branches on yellowish parchment or hemp paper. In spite of her exhaustion, she couldn't sleep. After trying for twenty minutes or something of that kind, she gave up. Sighing, she fetched her wand and Florean's book over Nearly Headless Nick from under her bed. She re-closed the curtain and lit up her wand to have light for reading. Skipping what she had already read about the orphanage battle in 1492, she read on to find out what had happened to the children Nearly Headless Nick had helped hiding.

His co-conspirators, it seemed, had successfully hidden and raised the children, who later became powerful adult witches and wizards, adults who could look after themselves and needed no more protection. Many old and honourable witch and wizard families had descended from these children - the Peasegoods and the Lovegoods, the Boots, the Finnigans - and the Potters. Hermione almost gasped when she came across the name Tom Potter, a Muggle potter's son, who had grown up to become a prominent fighter for Muggle-born rights, and the ancestor to a long line of Potters.

Harry again! Could that be true? Extinguishing the light of her wand, Hermione frowned into the darkness. After the Grey Lady, here was another ghost who somehow had to do with Harry's family history. It had to be a coincidence, she told herself.