Chapter Text
Birthdays weren’t a huge thing at Hogwarts. A few presents opened in bed before breakfast, and a few ‘Happy Birthday’ greetings from close friends. That was about it, usually. In Hermione’s first year, she hadn’t told anyone it was her birthday, so the day passed without anyone even noticing. She wasn’t expecting much more from her second birthday at Hogwarts, to be honest. Neville had given her a small gift, and there was a package from her parents, but that was all.
Hermione had never had many friends. She didn’t seem to have the knack. She tried to talk to people – she’d tell them interesting things or correct them when they made a mistake – but this seemed to lead to rejection more often than friendship. Hermione didn’t understand what she was doing wrong. Neville was always nice though, and he was enormously grateful to her for helping him in potions. After his cauldron exploded in their first potions lesson, everyone else refused to be his lab partner. Hermione had gladly volunteered, and they’d been potions partners ever since. He was still hopeless, but Hermione usually stopped him from blowing anything up.
In a slightly glum mood, Hermione trudged down to breakfast. Neville was already there, sitting in their usual spot at the end of the table. They were on friendly terms with all the other Gryffindors, but weren’t in any of the tight groups. Hermione’s dorm mates were all of the ‘silly giggly’ variety that Hermione couldn’t relate to at all. Neville’s dorm mates – Ron, Seamus and Dean – were a tight group who were all Quidditch and football mad. They were friendly enough to Neville, but never included him in anything. Neville had closer friends in Hufflepuff than Gryffindor, in fact. For that reason, Hermione and Neville tended to sit at the end of the Gryffindor table out of the way.
“Happy Birthday, Hermione,” Neville whispered.
“Thank you, Neville, and thank you for my present. It was perfect.” He’d bought her an expensive quill and ink set. They chatted about the day ahead – it was a Saturday so Hermione planned to spend it in the library catching up on homework (or getting further ahead on homework, as Neville put it). Neville was planning to go down to the greenhouses to re-pot some plants he was cultivating.
By the end of breakfast, Hermione was feeling a little less depressed. Neville wasn’t the most exciting person to talk to, but he wasn’t mean or judgemental either. She found it easy to talk to him. The same couldn’t be said of anyone else in her year. Even the most perfunctory conversation with anyone else seemed to become very awkward very fast. She had long-ago learned that it was best avoided.
Hermione and Neville were just about to leave when the mail arrived. Dozens of owls swooped down to make their deliveries. Hermione wasn’t expecting anything, so she wasn’t really paying attention. A beautiful snowy white owl did catch her eye though. She wondered whose it was, and followed it with her eyes. It was carrying a really big and heavy-looking package in its claws, wrapped in brown paper.
To Hermione’s enormous surprise, the beautiful owl soared past the entire table and fluttered to a ponderous landing right in front of her. The heavy package thudded down onto the table.
“I think you must have the wrong person,” she said to the owl, who gave her an extremely offended look in response. Hermione leaned forward and read the label on the package.
Neville did too. “It says Hermione Granger on the label,” he noted, “I’m pretty sure that’s you.”
“Yes, thank you Neville, but I’m not expecting anything. Who on earth could have sent it?”
Neville shrugged, “Open it up and find out.”
Hermione stroked the owl’s head, “I’m sorry I doubted you. You’re very beautiful, aren’t you?” The bird preened as if to say, ‘Well obviously’, gobbled down the chunks of sausage that Hermione offered, then took off and flew from the Hall. Hermione regarded the package like it might bite her. She wasn’t a fan of the unknown. Unexpected presents were more likely to be pranks to belittle her than genuine gifts.
With a sigh, fully expecting it to blow up in her face, she began to carefully undo the wrapping. A very thick leather tome was revealed. It was beautifully bound. Hermione ran her fingertips across it reverently, feeling the distinctive texture of the binding, and then she read the title on the front:
“Hogwarts: A History – Notes, Background Interviews and Deleted Sections” by Bathilda Bagshot
Hermione gasped, “Oh my goodness.” She quickly lifted the cover. Inside was a hand-written inscription:
Dear Miss Granger,
This is the one and only copy of all the notes and interviews that went into writing the First Edition of my book, ‘Hogwarts: a History’. Nobody has ever seen these, and I feared that nobody ever would. I have been searching in vain for a safe pair of hands to preserve this valuable but sensitive historical record. A family friend persuaded me that you are that person. As you will see, a great deal of information was deleted from the version that eventually went into print. An entire chapter on the House Elves was removed, for example, and two chapters regarding the Cursed Vaults. They were deleted on the orders of the Board of Governors and the Ministry. Needless to say, you must not share this book with anyone.
Happy birthday, and if you are ever in Godric’s Hollow do stop by for tea.
Yours sincerely, Bathilda Bagshot.
Both Hermione’s hands were now covering her mouth, and her eyes had grown to the size of saucers. Very slowly and deliberately, she opened the book at a random page and read a few lines. With a startled, “Eep!” she slammed the book shut and quickly re-covered it with wrapping paper. Her hands went back to her mouth and she stared at the book in disbelief.
“What is it, Hermione?” asked Neville with concern.
“It’s... it’s...” She was trembling. Tears gathered in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She was completely lost for words. It took her several attempts before she was able to speak again. “It’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Neville handed her a slip of parchment, “This note fell out.”
Hermione glanced down at it:
Please look after Luna and Ginny for me – H.
“Do you know who ‘H’ is?” Neville enquired.
Hermione’s bewildered eyes rose to meet his and she shook her head. “I have absolutely no idea.”
Neville frowned, “Well that's weird. Maybe Luna and Ginny will know.”
Hermione was astounded, “You know who this Luna and Ginny are?”
Neville nodded, “I think so. Ron has a sister called Ginny who was sorted into Gryffindor a few weeks ago. There was also a blonde girl called Luna something sorted into Ravenclaw. I guess that’s them?”
- § -
It had been a year since Hermione received her most prized possession from the mysterious ‘H’. Neither Ginny nor Luna had any idea who it might be, and with nothing else to go on they’d eventually had to admit defeat – the mystery of ‘H’ had gone unsolved.
One positive thing to come out of it, apart from the wonderful book, was that Hermione and Neville had become good friends with Ginny and Luna. They found Luna more than a little odd, but as Neville noted, they were all oddballs... so in a sense Luna fit right in. Hermione and Luna disagreed about almost everything, but over time they both seemed to accept that the other was ‘hopelessly silly’ and they got along just fine.
For her third-year birthday Hermione received lots more cards and presents than the previous year. Even her dorm mates had wished her happy birthday. She sat next to Neville at breakfast with a big grin on her face. Ginny and Luna joined them. Luna didn’t seem to care which table she ate at, which encouraged a few other people to switch tables from time to time too.
They were deep in conversation when the snowy owl landed in front of Hermione. They all fell into a startled silence and exchanged meaningful looks. None of them had ever expected the see the snowy owl again, but they knew what it meant – the mysterious ‘H’ had sent another present. Next to the owl sat a large and weighty package. A riot of different emotions flashed across Hermione’s face.
Neville put a calming hand over hers. “There’s a note, Hermione. Maybe read the note?”
Hermione nodded uncertainly. She slowly unfastened the package and stroked the owl’s head, then fed it some streaky bacon. With a pleased hoot the owl swooped gracefully away. Neville grinned, “Stop prevaricating Hermione. Read the note.”
Hermione sighed and picked up the note. She read it and frowned, then read it aloud:
Tell the werewolf that Padfoot and the Son of Prongs
solemnly swear that they are up to no good.
Hermione looked at them all helplessly, “What does that mean? Does anyone know a werewolf?” They all shook their heads. “Well, I’m certainly not going to go looking for one!”
Neville pointed at the package, “Maybe that will give us more clues?”
Reluctantly, Hermione began to unwrap the package. It was clearly another book... no two books, which both looked absolutely ancient. There was one about Runes and one about Arithmancy, though the titles were very archaic. She’d chosen those two subjects as electives this year and they’d already become her favourites. She’d never heard of these two books though. They certainly weren’t on the syllabus.
The Arithmancy one was called Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Arithmantica by Bridget Wenlock. The title of the Runes one was actually written in Runes. There was no author, just a triangular symbol with a circle and a line inside it. Hermione flicked through them. They both looked really old, but the Arithmancy one was completely blank. “Oh, this one’s so old that the ink has faded away to nothing!”
In excited tones they discussed this latest set of clues to the identity of the mysterious ‘H’. Eventually it was agreed that they now had more questions, but still no answers.
- § -
Hermione took the books along to her next Runes lesson with Professor Babbling. She arrived early so she could ask about the book. Babbling was writing some runes on the blackboard when Hermione approached, “Erm, Professor... A friend of mine sent me a Runes book. I was just wondering if you’ve heard of it.” She held the book out.
Babbling smiled and took it from her, “No problem, Miss Granger. Let’s have a look...” As Hermione stood waiting, the colour drained entirely from Babbling’s face. She wobbled and grabbed Hermione’s shoulder for support. “It can’t be...” Babbling stumbled to her desk and placed the book upon it gently. She almost missed her chair as she collapsed into it, muttering to herself, “Impossible... Lost for centuries... Just a legend...”
Babbling started pulling her desk draws open and slamming them shut again. Finally, she found a pair of soft white cotton gloves and put them on. Gently, she lifted the book and carried it to the ornate v-shaped book holder that she used when she was reading from old manuscripts. She eased the book open and examined the first page... then staggered backwards as if struck.
“Ignotus Peverell!”
Babbling stared at the book as if frightened to approach it. Tentatively, she edged forward and turned another page. Hermione saw that it was packed with runes, diagrams and scribbling in the margin. Babbling screamed and leapt backwards.
More students had begun to arrive for the class. Babbling became suddenly animated, “Don’t move Miss Granger. Everyone else, out! Out, out, OUT! Class is cancelled. Tell the others. Out!” She herded everyone through the door and slammed it shut behind them. Removing her gloves, she pulled her wand and cast “Expecto Patronum”. A ghostly silver badger burst from the end of her wand and circled the room. “Ask Professor Dumbledore to join us immediately,” she instructed it, “if he is available.” The badger vanished through the wall.
“Professor, is everything okay?” Hermione asked fearfully.
“Yes, Miss Granger, everything’s fine. It’s just... I think this book may be very special. I think it was written by Ignotus Peverell, who supposedly died in 1292, if he existed at all. It was so long ago that stories of him have become the stuff of legend. If this book is his, it’s been lost for at least seven centuries... and is beyond priceless. Did your friend say where they got it?”
“No, professor – they just sent it for my birthday, along with another one on Arithmancy.” She fished the other book out of her bag, “But I’m afraid this one hasn’t survived so well – it’s completely blank.”
Babbling eyed the book but wouldn’t touch it. “Could you place it on the desk please Miss Granger.”
Hermione did as instructed. Babbling leaned forwards to read the cover, “Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Arithmantica by...” Babbling slowly backed away from the table, and promptly fainted into a heap on the floor.
Hermione was frantically calling her name and patting her hand a few minutes later when the Headmaster arrived.
His eyebrows rose at the scene, “What has happened to Professor Babbling, Miss Granger?”
Hermione was beside herself with panic, “I don’t know Headmaster! I showed her some books I got for my birthday and she passed out!”
The Headmaster called forth a ghostly silver phoenix and sent it to fetch Madam Pomfrey, then calmly strode over to examine the books. He didn’t touch them; he just leaned over and peered at them through his glasses. “Ah, I see. Yes, that would do it. Principia Arithmantica! Amazing. These are very rare items, Miss Granger. In fact, I dare say these are the only known copies in existence. They both date from approximately 1250, I would say. Would I be correct that the Arithmancy book is completely blank?”
“I’m afraid so, Headmaster,” Hermione replied apologetically.
“Oh, don’t worry Miss Granger. I’m sure the text is still there. Bridget Wenlock was notorious for writing everything in invisible ink. She was extremely protective of her work. To my knowledge, there are only a few scraps of her work still in existence. If this is indeed an entire book of her work... then it is probably the most important Arithmantic manuscript in existence. The Runes book is also valuable beyond measure. Taken together, these two books are probably the greatest literary discovery of the last five hundred years.” Hermione wavered on her feet. “Perhaps you should take a seat, Miss Granger.” Dumbledore steered her by the shoulders towards one of the student desks.
Madam Pomfrey bustled into the room and immediately went to tend to Professor Babbling. “What on earth happened, Headmaster?”
“Bathsheda had a bit of a shock.” Dumbledore turned back to Hermione. His eyes were twinkling as he whispered, “Shall we see if we can make it two for two?” He summoned another ghostly phoenix and told it, “Please ask Professor Vector to cancel her lesson and join us immediately.” Hermione sat in silence while Madam Pomfrey checked over Professor Babbling and Dumbledore hummed to himself. He seemed to be enjoying this immensely.
The door opened and Professor Vector entered, “Headmaster is everything okay? What’s going on?”
Dumbledore beamed, “Ah, Septima, thank you for joining us. Miss Granger here has been given an Arithmancy book for her birthday and we wondered if you might take a look at it?”
Vector looked puzzled and rather annoyed, “A book, Headmaster? You asked me to cancel a lesson because of a book?”
Dumbledore shrugged, “Indulge me,” and pointed at the book on the desk.
Vector frowned and walked over to the desk. Dumbledore followed and stood just behind her as she read the title. For a long moment she stared at the book, and then she crumpled bonelessly into Dumbledore’s waiting arms. “Poppy,” he said, sounding mightily amused, “when you have a moment, I have another patient for you.”
Madam Pomfrey glared at him, “Honestly, Headmaster!”
Dumbledore gave her an angelic smile and lowered Vector gently to the floor. “Well, Miss Granger, your presents have certainly caused a stir. Might I ask who was so generous?”
Hermione shifted uneasily in her seat, “Er, well... I’m not really sure Headmaster. They were brought by owl, with a note.”
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, “Is that so? Could I read the note, perhaps?”
For some reason, Hermione was reluctant to let him see it, but she could see no way to refuse. She pulled it out of her pocket and handed it over. Dumbledore read it and frowned, “Ah.” He handed the note back to her. “Do you have any way to contact Mr H?”
Hermione looked extremely sheepish, “No, Headmaster. I don’t know who it is. Do you?”
“I suspect so, yes.”
“Is it someone... dangerous?”
“To you," he replied in a reassuring tone, "I think not. To the rest of us,” he added under his breath, "very dangerous indeed.” Dumbledore seemed lost in thought for a minute. “I wonder if you might do me a great favour, Miss Granger? Would you perhaps lend these books to the school? I dare say that Professors Babbling and Vector would love to study them, and would greatly appreciate your help in doing so. We would have to house them in the Restricted Section of the library of course, since they’re so precious, but you would be given unrestricted access.”
Hermione’s draw dropped open. Unrestricted access to the Restricted Section in her third year!
“I’m sure we can rely on you not to misuse that privilege,” the Headmaster continued. “If you will permit me, I will take these books there now and speak to Madam Pince.” He reflected for a moment. “I might ask Professor Flitwick to join me too. May as well go for the full house, eh? Poppy, when you’ve seen to Bathsheda and Septima, could you pop over to the Library? I suspect I’ll have two more for you there.”
Madam Pomfrey gave him a very disapproving look, which Dumbledore ignored. “Do I have your permission, Miss Granger?”
It took Hermione a moment to catch up. “Oh, to borrow the books – yes, yes of course.”
Dumbledore gave her his best grandfatherly smile, “Thank you. Professors Babbling and Vector will no doubt speak to you tomorrow about your new... projects. Might I suggest that you drop a couple of electives to make room – Divination and Muggle Studies, perhaps? I think you would struggle to fit everything in,” he leaned forward and whispered, “even with the time-turner,” and winked. “Now, why don’t you head off for lunch? You look a bit peaky.”
Hermione stumbled unsteadily from the room and wandered sightlessly towards the Great Hall. It was a little early so there was hardly anyone there. She sat in her usual place and stared into space. She must have zoned out because the next thing she knew the Hall was packed and she was surrounded by her friends. Neville was shaking her shoulder, “Are you okay, Hermione?”
With difficulty, she focused on him, “You’re never going to believe what just happened.”