Sat, 29 Apr 2006 09:45:20 GMT

Title: What Could Have Been
BooK: Harry Potter
Rating: R (may go up)
Genre: General/Romance
Summary: A re-write of my former story Hidden Heritage.

A matronly figure with graying hair pulled back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck stared down at the small child with dismay. Her thin rogue tinted lips pulled into a deep frown causing the prominent lines in her face to crease further at the movement. Long weathered fingers steepled upon the desk as she tilted her head to one side slightly.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she spoke with a low pitched alto that scratched slightly. “I can not condone such actions any further.”

Large amber eyes stared down at her folded hands as her riotous curls formed a curtain around her tiny frame. “I didn’t mean it.”

“She did too!” protested another child. This one was also a brunette, but her hair was a lighter shade of brown with bold streaks of green and orange that stained random parts of her skin and uniform. Her face was scrunched up in annoyance as her small nose wrinkled at the other girl beside her. “She’s always hated me. Hermione is a bad girl Headmistress Delongpri!”

“I am not,” protested the child with a wild mane of thick curls. Her amber eyes watered slightly as she gazed at the strict woman before her. “I don’t know how it happened Headmistress.”

“Miss Granger,” began the elderly woman with a shake of her head, “although exceedingly bright, one can not help but notice that you seem to attract trouble wherever you may go. I’m sorry young lady, but I will have to contact your parents. Miss Seville, please excuse yourself from my office and return to class.”

Scarlet Seville, or Miss Seville as the Headmistress had called her, threw a rather victorious smirk towards the now frowning girl to her side. It was unnerving to see a child of ten with such a vindictive expression, but Scarlet Seville could be a conniving little brat when she wished. “You’re really in for it Granger.”

“Miss Seville, that is quite enough. You are dismissed,” cut in the strict tone of the Headmistress.

Scarlet frowned moodily as she stomped – with all the fury a ten year old could carry – out of the Headmistress’ office.

“That child, you would think that she would have manners,” muttered the Headmistress.

Hermione was not surprised. Scarlet Amelia Seville was the daughter of Lord and Lady Seville. She was – as she constantly reminded her classmates and practically anyone she came across – 57th in line for the throne and used to getting her way. However, if she had actually gotten her way, Hermione was sure that she would be hanging by her toes somewhere inside the dining hall.

Scarlet had never liked her. As to the real reason why was lost to her, but she supposed it had something to do with her intelligence. Although not popular, she was extremely bright and was constantly praised by teachers and adults. This lead to less attention being directed towards the young Lady Seville and because of this, the girl had developed a great disliking for one Hermione Athena Granger.

Being a very popular girl at their private school, Scarlet easily led a number of people into dislike towards her as well. This basically resulted in an endless amount of name calling and recesses spent in the library with only books to keep her company.

She didn’t mind too terribly for she had always been an avid reader, but even books couldn’t stop the loneliness from seeping in. In all her ten years of life, the curly haired brunette had never had one single friend. It was something she had come to accept, but that didn’t take away the fact that she too longed for some type of companionship.

“Miss Granger, will you be explaining what happened any time soon or do you wish to continue staring off into space?”

“I’m sorry Headmistress,” apologized the small brunette as she smoothed out the fabric of her navy pleated skirt. “I lost myself in thought.”

Sharp blue eyes peered down at the young child before her from behind a pair of thin wire framed spectacles. “Please explain to me what happened.”

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “Well, we were painting in Miss Kim’s class and basically recreating works from any artist of our choosing. I chose Chagall because I always admired the colors he used in his works combined-“

“Miss Granger,” interrupted the Headmistress with a small smile gracing her thin lips, “please spare me the details. I just wish to know what happened.”

A soft pink graced her cheeks as Hermione stuttered her apology. “Sorry Headmistress.”

“Apology accepted Miss Granger. Just please try to tell me only the essential details.”

“Of course Headmistress. As I was saying, we were given an art assignment. At one point during the class period, I noticed Scarlet coming towards me small cup of paint. I knew that she was going to dump it on me and I couldn’t possibly allow such a thing to happen. My mother would have been furious if I had come home with paint in my hair.”

The elderly woman nodded her head slowly. “So you decided to pour paint on Miss Seville before she had the chance to pour the paint on you? Is that what happened?”

“No Headmistress,” replied the young girl with a furious shake of her head. “What happened next was quite odd. As she came closer to me, I noticed that my own paint seemed to take on a life of its own. Without warning, streams of green and orange practically jumped from the cups I was holding and splashed all over Scarlet!”

The Headmistress set her thing lips into a tight frown as her eyes narrowed slightly at the young girl before her. “Are you telling me that your paint jumped – on its’ own accord – from the cups you were holding and found their way all over Miss Seville?”

Hermione bit her lip. She knew it sounded utterly ridiculous, but it was the truth. “Yes Headmistress.”

“Hermione Granger, I expected better from you. You’re bright and very mature for you age. I would have thought that you were above lying-“

“But I’m not lying Headmistress Delongpri! It’s the truth. The paint jumped-“

“That is enough Miss Granger!” cut in the Headmistress with a brisk tone that held no room for argument. “This is the third time that an inanimate object has jumped, flew or hovered on its’ own accord and this is not counting the numerous times things have mysteriously shattered in your presence. Why is it Miss Granger than whenever something odd happens in this school you are always present?”

Hermione shook her head at the elderly woman’s words. She honestly didn’t know why these things happened to her, but it was not as if she meant for it to happen. “I don’t know Headmistress.”

“I believe it would be best if you went home for the rest of the day. I shall call your parents to pick you up.”

“Yes Headmistress.”

-------------------------------

Pulling at the ends of her frizzy curls in frustration, she collapsed upon the floral comforter of her bed. “Suspended!” she exclaimed with sheer irritation. She, Hermione Athena Granger, was suspended! The idea in itself was absolutely insane.

There were many things that Hermione put up with in her ten years of life. Bullying and name calling is one thing, but depriving her of her education was something else entirely. She had a hunger for knowledge that practically begged to fulfilled on a regular basis.

The library was her haven with the school on a whole as her Eden. She was to be bared from paradise for one whole week. It was a cruel type of punishment to the harshest degree.

Burying her head into the frilly cover of her pillow, she screamed into the cottony fabric.

Harvard Granger quietly surveyed his only child. His Honeybee had always been extremely mature for her age, something that could be somewhat taxing at times. He recalled one moment when his daughter was six and he told her the story of Chicken Little. That resulted with he being on the receiving end of a ten minute speech on how it was “absolutely impossible for the sky to come falling down on a chicken – a talking chicken at that.”

From then on, he decided to read her passages from Byron and Shakespeare. She took to them immediately and could always be found with a tome in her arms.

He knew that his Hermione adored knowledge. She had an insatiable curiosity that could never be satisfied. However, due to this, she tended to be a bit overbearing when it came to sharing that knowledge. She wasn’t a snob as many of her peers believed her to be. She was just so excited about learning something new that she couldn’t wait to share with others.

This same excitement lead to her being somewhat ostracized by her schoolmates. He couldn’t recall her being invited to a party or having friends call their home. No, his little girl was quite the loner.

Was it so wrong that a part of himself was happy with the prospect? Make not mistake, he abhorred the saddened look upon his daughters face when she would gaze at groups of children her age running about with their friends. However, she was his only child, his little girl, his Honeybee. Call it selfish, but he was content that the only other person he had to share her with was his wife.

His wife! Jesus Christ! She was going to have a fit when he learned what happened at Hermione’s school. He just hoped she wouldn’t do something rash. His Anna was a hellcat when angered. The last time Hermione had gotten into trouble, she had reduced the secretary to a sputtering loss with words alone.

Yes, he was peeved as well that this Scarlet girl got off easily while his daughter was punished, but he kept himself in line and decided that it would be best for Hermione to stay home for the week.

Peculiar things occurred around his daughter. He wasn’t sure why, or how exactly, but they happened. He couldn’t even begin to count how many times he would find her sitting at the table happily munching on a sugary coated sweet when he had placed it himself on the highest shelf in the kitchen. Breakables had been shattered when the girl was in a right mood. He was lucky that that particular incident only occurred twice in his lifetime and that his daughter was very patient.

It was odd. He was a scientific individual and looked at the world from such a standpoint. However, no such formula or theory could ever explain what was happening to his daughter.

He spoke about it often with his wife, but she always seemed rather touchy about the subject. He supposed that she was attempting to ignore it and pretend that such things never happened, but at times he could see something akin to pride cross her features every now and then.

Harvard shook his head. How he ended up with two strange women in his life never ceased to amaze him, but he would have it no other way. Anna was his love. She was an amazing woman with a snarky temperament balanced out by a wicked sense of humor. And his Honeybee was his pride and joy. She was his baby girl and would always be such.

“Papa, you have a faraway look on your face.”

Coming out of his thoughts, Harvard gazed down at his only child and smiled softly at her. “Just thinking Honeybee.”

“About what?”

She was such a quizzical little thing. “Many things Honeybee. Many things.”

“Papa, what time will Mama be-“

Her question was cut short when the ringing of the doorbell broke through their conversation. Jumping to her feet, Hermione rushed past her father and down the stairs towards the side window. She had been hoping it would have been the Headmistress coming to apologize to her personally for making the horrid mistake of suspending her, but the person standing outside her doorstep was most definitely NOT Headmistress Delongpri.

Biting her lower lip to keep from laughing, her large amber eyes took in the odd appearance of the young man standing upon her porch. He was dressed in a ridiculously printed Hawaiian shirt with striped trousers held up by rainbow suspenders. He carried a neon pink messenger bag that was hanging off his left shoulder like a purse and worn out trainers.

However, the most amusing part of his clothing was his hat. Perched upon his head, was a large poets hat with a gaudy looking Peacock feather jutting proudly from the brim. It was a terrible color of purple and clashed terribly with the red of his hair.

Shaking her head, she looked over her shoulder to see her father coming down the stairs. “Oh Papa, you must see this man. He’s dressed in such a ridiculous sort of outfit. Do you suppose that he’s alright in the head?”

Harvard was somewhat puzzled by his daughters’ declaration, but shrugged of such a comment. Children today had odd taste in clothes – crimped hair and gaudy jewelry – so he came to the conclusion that he was more traditionally dressed than what most wore in this day and age.

Opening the door, he found that not to be the case and that his daughter was 100% correct – again. Blinking a few moments, he gazed down at the young man carefully. He was lanky and he supposed to only around twenty years of age. His hat kept slipping over his eyes, causing him to constantly tilt it upwards and right its position. If he wasn’t so curious about his odd sense of style, Harvard would have most likely been laughing along with his daughter.

“Excuse me sir,” began the young man in a high pitch voice that cracked every now and then. “Is this the Granger residence?”

“Yes,” answered Harvard slowly. “May I know who is inquiring?”

“My name is Everett Gobbstopper,” he replied in a cordial tone.

Harvard nodded his head at the exotic sounding name. “And you are here why?”

The young man seemed somewhat weary as his brown eyes shifted about the suburban neighborhood. “I think that question will be better explained if I come in sir.”

“Oh Papa, let him in. I want to know why he’s dressed in such a manner!”

Afore said young man looked quizzically down at his clothing and frowned. “Is this not how muggles dress on a regular basis?”

“Muggles?”

The young man nodded his head. “Yes sir. Muggle. I’ll explain in further detail once inside the safety of your home. One can never tell who may be listening.”

Harvard looked over the man carefully. He did not want this crazy looking person inside his home and he most definitely didn’t want him near his daughter – no matter how well mannered he was. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think that-“

“Have you ever wondered why things shatter unexpectedly or how particular items seem to disappear? Haven’t you been curious as to why you daughter is capable of getting things – such as sweets – from the top shelf when she obviously can’t reach them?”

Turning towards the wide eyed young girl standing beside her now stunned father, Everet continued on with a knowing smile. “And aren’t you the least bit curious Hermione Granger, why exactly that paint seemed to jump onto Miss Seville’s person?”

Harvard hauled the young man by his tacky printed collar and shoved him against a wall. Lifting him off the ground, he glared up at the now petrified male. “How,” he began in a voice with a hard edge, “do you know these things.”

Everet whimpered softly, his brown eyes wide as he stared at the formidable man now slowly cutting off the circulation in his shoulders. He remembered reading in his briefing of the family that the father had been a boxer in his youth, but had not actually participated in a match since marriage. Apparently, just because he was no longer preparing for any fights didn’t mean he kept up with the training. In conclusion, Everet was scared beyond belief.

He really should have thought his words through before blurting it all out like that. Muggles tended to be quite unpredictable when given news like that. He had the door slammed on his face many times before and threats about calling muggle law enforcement if he didn’t leave the premises at once. He had even been hit once with a rice scooper by a very angry Asian woman. However, being lifted off the floor and put into immense pain by a former boxer was something new.

“Papa!” exclaimed Hermione in a high pitched tone. “Put him down Papa! You could hurt him further!”

“That is the general idea Hermione,” he replied with a grunt as he applied more pressure to the areas he was holding.

Whining at the pain, Everet spoke in a desperate manner. “My name is Everett Gobbstopper. I’m an official with the Ministry and I’m here to offer your daughter a place at a prestigious school in Scotland for children like herself!”

He said this all in a rush that Harvard dropped him in surprise. “Children like her? What exactly are you insinuating?”

Gasping for breath, Everet pulled off his ridiculous looking hat that had somewhat tilted to an irritating manner during the entire scuffle. Throwing the gaudy article upon the floor he straightened the collar of his Hawaiian printed shirt and attempted to look dignified despite the fact that he wanted nothing more than just to apparate away. “Your daughter has the gift of magic. She is a witch.”

“There are no such things as witches,” Hermione stated firmly.

Seemingly to come out of his stunned silence at his daughters firm declaration, Harvard looked the man over with a quirked brow. Perhaps he had applied more pressure to the young man than he had originally thought. A sudden feeling of guilt washed over him as he looked somewhat apologetically at the strangely dressed individual. “Are you feeling well?”

Sighing in what only could be described as utter frustration; Everett swiftly pulled a long wooden stick from the pocket of his trousers and gave it a sharp swish and flick. “Wingardium Leviosa.”

With those two words, Hermione watched in utter fascination as the vase sitting to her left lifted itself from the ground and hovered about the air for a moment of two before slowly being eased back down to its original position. Amber eyes shined with delight, she clapped her hands enthusiastically. “Will I be able to do that too!?”

“I assure you young lady, should your parents allow you to attend Hogwarts, you’ll be able to do that and so much more.”

“Bloody hell,” sighed Harvard as he ran a hand through his brown tresses. “Come in then before someone may see you turning something into a toad.”

Everet huffed indignantly. “I’ll have you know that fairytales like that give witches and wizards a bad name. We do not go about turning things into toads or any other sort of amphibious creature…
… birds on the other hand. That is something entirely different,” he finished with a toothy grin.

Hermione laughed lightly as Harvard merely shook his head at the utter bizarreness of it all. “I need a drink.”

------------------------------

“Asombrar,” she breathed deeply as leaned tiredly against the door. Rotating her ankles she – in the most unladylike manner – kicked off her shoes and watched with some satisfaction as they flew somewhat halfhazardly through the air only to connect with the opposite wall and fall to the ground in a loud clatter.

Rubbing her temples, Annaleise Granger shook her head of ebony curls at the lingering pain in her skull. Three children – all whom were deathly afraid of the dentist – with one of them proving to be a real brat as she kicked, screamed and pulled at a large portion of her hair in a vain attempt to escape. One recently divorced wife who took it upon herself to complain about the male species in general and an elderly gentleman who hit on her quite blatantly and attempted to sway her his way by offering her a ride on his electric powered wheelchair.

Overall, she was exhausted, sore and had a splitting headache the size of Madrid. She wanted nothing more than a long soak in the bathtub with the oils she had received in the mail from Italy the other day.

“WHO THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT!?”

--------------------------

Harvard glared down at the hopping piece of candy as it jumped about his living room. His daughter looked at the chocolate frog in wonder as her hands fiddled with a strange looking card in her hands. From his vantage point, he could tell that it was a picture of a strapping young man with a head full of russet hair held neatly back into a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck. His strong jaw was set into a wide smile as he winked flirtatiously at his little girl.

Scowling at the moving image and his daughters’ scarlet colored cheeks, he took the small picture from her hands and tossed it towards the grinning young wizard from the Ministry.

“WHO THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT!?”

Everett seemed somewhat taken back by the question, but simply gazed at the Wizarding Card and smiled brightly. “That, Mr. Granger, is one of the four founders of Hogwarts. His name is Godric Gryffindor.”

“That’s all bloody well and good, but why is he flirting with my ten year old daughter?”

Hermione’s rogue tinted cheeks took on a deeper shade of red at her fathers’ reaction. He was far too overprotective of her for his own good. “Papa,” she hissed softly.

“That’s impossible, he’s dead.”

“Then you explain to me why he’s winking cheekily at my little girl?”

“Oh,” said Everett with understanding. “You don’t seem to understand sir. You see, a wizarding image takes on the personality of the person during the time it was done. Godric was known as terribly charming and somewhat mischievous. I assure you that the actions of this image mean nothing really.”

Harvard frowned as he narrowed his eyes at the now grinning image of Godric Gryffindor. “I don’t like that bloke.”

“What is going on in here?”

“Mama! You’re home.”

Amber eyes glanced around the room attempting to find the source of the annoying croaking sounds that seemed to be emanating from her couch. Casting a quick glance at the oddly dressed gentleman with a gaudy purple hat sitting in his lap, she pinpointed the source of the noise and jumped back in alarm.

“Who…?”

“Ah please don’t be alarmed madam,” began Everett seeing the woman’s gaping jaw and shaking form. Pulling his wand from his jacket, he cast a simple stunning charm over the hopping piece of chocolate and handed it to the curious young girl to his side. He watched with amusement as she carefully bit into the chocolate before happily munching away on the delicious treat. He couldn’t blame her. Chocolate frogs were his favorite too.

“Please ma’am. I mean you no harm. My name is Everett Gobbstopper and I’m here to integrate – should you choose to allow your daughter to take her rightful place in society – your fine family into the world of magic.”

A deafening silence followed Everett’s words, making the young man shift uncomfortably upon his spot. He wished the woman – who he assumed to be the elusive Mrs. Granger – would say something.

Seeing that his wife seemed incapable of speech at the moment, Harvard broke the awkward silence. "I would appreciate it if you could come back at another time. I believe this is a matter that my family and I would like to discuss in private.”

“Very well sir,” Everett replied graciously. “However, should you not wish anything to do with our world, I will have to erase your memories of this meeting and young Miss Granger’s magic shall continue to grow untamed.”

“We’ll take that into consideration.”

“Thank you for your time. Good evening to you all.”

With those words, the small family of three heard a faint ‘popping’ sound as he disappeared from existence.

Harvard – seemingly unfazed by the sudden disappearing act; for why should he be surprised after being accosted by floating objects and animated candy – turned to the still unmoving form of his wife who seemed to be in a stunned state of silence. “Anna, we need to talk.”

-----------------------------------

Annaleise shifted slightly upon the mattress, her slender fingers digging into the dark navy of their comforter. Looking at her husband, she exhaled deeply. “How did you know?”

A wry smile crossed his face as he removed his shirt and bundled it in his hands. Throwing the fabric halfhazardly in the general direction of the laundry bin, he gave a dry laugh. “I wasn’t sure entirely, but you just confirmed it.”

Staring at her husband at some time, she licked her lips and nibbled softly at the lower bud in nervousness. It was a habit she had developed as a child and something that she had passed on to their daughter. “You’re not angry?”

Bracing his arms against the dresser, Harvard stole a glance at his wife in the reflection of the mirror before him. “Why didn’t you tell me Anna?”
“There was nothing to tell. I’m no longer apart of that world so I thought no need to tell you anything,” she replied softly as she gazed downwards at the deep navy fabric of their comforter.

“Nothing to tell?” he said incredulously. “But you knew didn’t you. You knew there was a good possibility that she would turn out like that.”

“Like what Harvard!? A freak. Is that what you’re going to say because if so, I will rise from my place and slap you so hard I assure you that you’ll be feeling it well into the next day.”

He whirled on his heels, spinning to face his now angered wife. “Bloody hell woman, don’t place words into my mouth!”

Standing to her full height, she glared dangerously down her nose at her husband and spoke in a low tone. “Don’t you start using that tone with me Harvard Slavic Granger!”

A long silence passed between the two as they stared at one another in utter confusion. Annaleise felt her shoulders slump tiredly as she gazed down at her husband with a remorseful look. “She’s still our daughter Harvard.”

His eyes widened at her words. Did she think that he was going to leave her and their little girl? Peering closely into her amber eyes, his fingers gently caught her chin and forced her to look at him in his eyes. What he saw there brought a pain to his heart. She looked terrified. Gently gripping her shoulders, he drew the taller woman into his arms and held her closely.

“How could you think that?” he questioned softly into thick curls of her hair. “I love you Anna. You gave me the most amazing gift in the form of a beautiful and intelligent little girl that I love more than life itself. How could you even think, for one minute, that I would think that of our Mya?”

Annaleise spared her husband a startled glance, her amber eyes wide and unsure. Although he had mastered her native tongue some years ago, he rarely spoke it. It wasn’t because he didn’t particularly care for it, but it was mostly due to a personal preference of his. He favored English, while she her first language of Spanish. They often spoke to one another using the two different dialects.

It was strange to many people, considering one was speaking one language, while the other replied in another, but they were both comfortable with the two different dialects that at times they didn’t even notice that the other was speaking in a different language.

However, Harvard was speaking in Spanish. He was speaking in Spanish to reassure her. He knew that it helped to calm her and she appreciated that. She really didn’t know what she did to deserve him, but she’d be damned if she lost him now because of her past.

“Harvard, it’s a very long story.”

“I have time love.”

All other words in Spanish are written in italicized words. I chose to include only a few words (like expressions) in Spanish because not everyone understands the language (my comprehension is rather weak) so instead of writing out everything in a foreign language, I decided to just italicize it all. It will be easier on the reader and I.

Why is a raven like a writing desk?

Hidden Heritage.... yea, back to the original name..... ^^'

Beta time

DAMN LJ