All I Wanted

All I Wanted

by Keelie

Chapter Two.

Java Du Jour was closed on Mondays. As much as she loved her job, Hermione had come to value these days off. Her morning routine included waking up at nine o'clock, taking a long, luxurious shower, blowing drying her long sun-streaked curls, and then heading into the kitchen for a cup of coffee-- or three (yes, she was a coffee addict-- but not quite in the Caffeine-holics Anonymous league).

Her morning routine did not normally included Albus Dumbledore sitting at her kitchen table.

"Professor?" Hermione demanded as she clutched her soft navy terrycloth robe more tightly around her. "What are you doing here?"

He merely smiled in response to her incredulous question. Like always, he wore his gray hair in a long ponytail, he sported flowy robes of forest green, and half-moon spectacles were perched on his long, slightly bent nose.

"Professor?" she repeated, then hit her forehead. "Oh! I'm so sorry! I tend to forget my manners early in the day. Would you like a cup of coffee?"

He smiled again and pointed to the Muggle, electric carafe dripping on her counter.

She grinned in spite of herself. Ah, well, why did it matter who knew about her caffeine-- erm-- addiction?

Hermione grabbed two plain white mugs from a glass-fronted kitchen cabinet and pouring a fair amount into both of them. If she remembered correctly. . . . she gave her old Professor's coffee milk and two sugars. . . . he smiled again as she took a gulp of hers as she preferred it, black and scalding hot. After a couple of sips, she set down the mug and slipped into a seat next to Dumbledore's.

Why is he still smiling like that? she wondered as she took another swill. She could never remember being uncomfortable around the man before, but something about the serene way he was smiling. . . .

"What do you wanted?" she blurted out before she could help herself. Oh, that was beautiful, Herm. "I mean--"

"Quite all right, Ms. Granger," he replied, gracefully bowing his head as he spoke for the first time since he'd gotten there.

"Erm. . . ." What do I say now? Fortunately, Dumbledore intervened.

"I have a favor to ask you, Ms. Granger."

"Oh, Professor, call me Hermione--"

"Only if you are to call me Albus."

"Albus," she tried the name, and smiled. "Okay. Go ahead."

His smile, which had mirrored hers, disappeared. "I'm afraid this isn't a run-to-the-store-for-a-gallon-of-milk, can-I-borrow-a-pinch-of-nutmeg, will-you-please-convince-Harry-to-do-one-more-promotional-shoot kind of favor."

"Oookay." She hadn't exactly been expecting a little thing, but he had been so damn tranquil and now he seemed like he was on the road to agitated-- definitely unusual.

"I suppose you heard of the attack in Farmer's Village?"

Hermione nodded, puzzled. Farmer's Village was a small close by Diagon Alley. It had started out as a Muggle-and-magic developement, but if she remembered correctly it was now all-magic.

Several days ago, a rather rich, unnamed family had been murdered in Farmer's village. They had been magical, which is why it was reported in the Daily Prophet, but the writer had speculated, after talking with several Aurors, that it was a Muggle thief who had been looking for money and valuables. After he noticed that the man-and-wife was home, he had shot them with a Muggle handgun.

Hermione wasn't quite sure why this was of importance, so she inquired, "Yes?"

"Well, they had a child-- a two-and-a-half-year old daughter."

"Oh the poor thing," gasped Hermione. "To be killed at such a young age, and--"

"She isn't dead," Dumbledore-- Albus-- replied vaguely, and some of his calm demeanor began to return.

"Albus?"

"Her name is Aurora," he continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Her parents' names were Elgin and Inga, but that does not matter right now. Nor does their last name."

"Where is she going to?"

Dumbledore sighed. "That's just it, Hermione. Inga was from a long line of pureblood wizards, most of which are dead, or, sadly, insane. It seems mental problems are a common trait in her family. Elgin was Muggleborn. Normally I would just send Aurora to live with Elgin's Muggle sister, Eve, and her husband Travis, who have always been very accepting of wizard culture. They live in the French Riviera.

"But there's something about Aurora."

"Is she mentally disabled?" asked Hermione. "Physically? Is she a squib? Oh, I know, she must--"

"Be destined to grow up to be a very powerful witch?" Dumbledore cut in mildly. "Oh do you suppose I could have another cup of coffee? Quite attatched to the stuff."

Hermione shakily refilled their mugs. "How do you know?"

Dumbledore contemplated the dark liquid in his mug. "There are ways, Hermione. To get to the point, Aurora is telepathic. And telekinetic. And if she had been born ten years earlier, she probably could have overthrown Voldemort."

"What?"

"Yes I know, it's rather a lot to take in."

Hermione took a deep breath. "I feel awful for this little girl, having to deal with her powers at such a young age. But how does this relate to me?"

His smile faltered a bit. "You see, Hermione, Aurora's powers are locked. Did you deal with that in any of your classes?"

"Binns mentioned it once, but never defined what it was, and I could never find it in the library."

"Few books do talk about it. It's an ancient ritual that hasn't taken place in over a hundred years-- except, of course, to Aurora. It's a very complicated process that involves six witches or wizards who are not related to the child but that their relatives would trust with their lives. It requires an immense amount of power. After it is preformed, the child-- it can only happen to children under the age of a year-- is locked until they are sixteen years old. Aurora will turn sixteen in thirteen years, in December."

"So. . . . she's not a witch?" Hermione was intensely bewildered.

"Oh no, she is, and she'll have considerable powers and should do quite well when she goes to Hogwarts. But an enormous amount of power will be at her fingertips once she is unlocked."

"How would one unlock her?"

"Well, it requires the six original witches or wizards, plus the child's parents. And again, an immense amount of power. Then they would get their powers-- in Aurora's case, telepathy and telekinesis."

"But Aurora's parents are dead," Hermione interrupted.

Dumbledore sighed. "I know. So we need to find new parents for Aurora."

Hermione gawped at him. "Find her new parents? What in God's name do you mean? They're not replaceable! And why was Aurora 'locked' anyway?"

"I didn't mean it in the coarse way I said it," Dumbledore hastened to add. "When locking first originated, it was in a time where death was frequent. So a tiny clause was added to the spell that locks a child. If a parent dies, upon their bodies the name of their suitable successor should flame."

"So your name 'flamed' on their dead bodies?"

"I wish it were that simple," Dumbledore lamented. "But the six witches and wizards who performed the spell will not be the successors. But on Elgin and Inga's dead bodies, tattooed in flame, are the names of their two successors. And you, my dear Hermione Grangers, are one of them."

The last thing Hermione saw was the hardwood kitchen floor rushing up to meet her head.