Introduction

Disclaimer: I own nothing you do recognize.

A/N: When this story had first been uploaded, the first couple of chapters had been un-betaed, while all the rest had been betaed by Larilee, to whom I am still grateful. I am very lucky now, because another wonderful person has undertaken the difficult task of correcting, beta-ing, polishing and in general improving the story. This person is Ellie, and I am extremely thankful. For those (if any) who have read the story before, there will be a few additions, and maybe a few extra lemons, for those who had complained.

The Old Ways

Chapter 1:

On the last day of their sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Harry, Ron and Hermione were asked to visit Albus Dumbledore in his office. Once seated, and after he had offered them a couple of lemon drops, he informed them that they were to become members of the Order of the Phoenix within the next few days and that they would spend their summer at number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

Ron and Harry were beside themselves with excitement, but Hermione, always the practical one, started to ask a dozen questions all at once: “Professor, doesn’t Harry have to be at the Dursleys in order to be safe? What should I tell my parents? Won’t it…?”

Before Hermione could finish her series of questions, Dumbledore interrupted her kindly and informed her that everything had been taken care of.

The first few days in the house at number twelve, Grimmauld Place went by rather quickly. Harry and Ron were sharing a room while Hermione had a room to herself down the corridor. She would be sharing the room later in the summer with Ginny, as soon as she and the rest of the Weasleys returned from Romania where they were visiting Charlie. The boys spent their time practicing Quidditch in the atrium of the house while Hermione had found her paradise in the library attached to the study on the ground floor. In the evenings they would have dinner with the other members of the Order, who were also stationed there. Tonks and Lupin were their favourite companions.

There had been two meetings of the Order in the first week. During the first one, all three of them were initiated in the Order.

The second meeting was not scheduled, but when Snape returned from a Dark Revel with information, the Order gathered in the study to hear the latest news. Snape was as distanced as always, but he also seemed exhausted. Hermione watched at him as he sat uneasily in an over-stuffed armchair, waiting for the meeting to begin, and thought he might appreciate something to replenish his strength.

“Professor, you look tired. I’ve brought you a something,” she said as she offered him a steaming mug of tea and plate of biscuits.

“My welfare is none of your concern, Miss Granger. You can take these back to the kitchen and stay there yourself.” Snape was no less sarcastic than usual, but there was unusual anger and venom in his voice. Concerned, Hermione left the room still carrying the tea and biscuits.

A week later the Weasleys returned from Romania, and they also came to stay at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. There were now more than twenty people staying in the house, and the Floo was often used by visitors. The Burrow was safe, but the new wards around it made it unapproachable to anyone who was not specifically invited by Mr. Weasley. Hence, Grimmauld Place remained the Order Headquarters as it allowed the members to come and go as they pleased.

Snape would appear once every couple of days, bringing news and information, but would leave again after only a few hours. One of the evenings he was there, Harry and Ron, on their way back from practising Quidditch in the Atrium, collided with Snape as they ran into the kitchen, sending all three of them crashing to the floor. Hermione, who happened to be in the kitchen making tea, saw the fury in the eyes of her professor as he slowly rose to his feet.

“You idiots, if you are incapable of walking and acting as befits your age, stay in your room. This is not a playground. ” He looked at them, disgust written all over his face.

Hermione thought she should intervene before her friends said something that would make the situation even worse.

“Professor, they did not mean to bump into you. It was an accident,” Hermione offered and stood between the professor and her friends.

“Miss Granger, just because your friends are so incompetent as to be unable to answer for themselves, does not mean you should use this opportunity to show off the manners you think you have.” He sneered at her.

Hermione was astounded by his words. She was prepared for the sarcasm, but his insult against her upbringing was too much, and she left the room almost at a run in an attempt to hide her tears. A few minutes later Harry and Ron found her sobbing in the library.

“Don’t let the greasy git get to you.” Ron tried to calm her.

“Yeah, he’s just being his old, nasty self,” Harry added with venom.

“But, I have always treated him with respect, and now he says that I have no manners. How could he when he treats everyone so horribly?” Hermione complained.

“Actually, he is right.” Startled, the three of them looked around to see who had spoken. They were startled to see that the words had come from the portrait of Phineas Nigellus, former Headmaster of Hogwarts.

“Hermione’s got excellent manners. She’s polite to everyone.”

“You’re only saying that because he’s a Slytherin.” Both boys supported her.

Hermione didn’t say anything for a while, but soon her curiosity won over.

“What do you mean he’s right?”

“That his statement that you have no manners is correct,” the portrait replied coolly.

“That’s enough! Hermione, we’re not staying here listening to this painting insult you. Come, let’s get outside,” Ron said, walking towards the door.

“No, it’s okay; I have some reading to do anyway. You both go, and I’ll come and find you in a little while.”

“If you’re sure… Just don’t listen to this Slytherin painting.” With that, the boys left the room.

As soon as they left, Hermione turned to the portrait of the Headmaster and asked what exactly was wrong with her manners.

Phineas Nigellus squirmed for a while in his portrait, and after a few moments of thought, he answered:

“I will use a Muggle example from my time as Intercultural Advisor for Magical-Muggle relations. What would you think as a European of someone coming to your house for a black-tie dinner, removing his shoes before entering, and coming in barefoot? Similarly, what would an Asian think if you went to his house for the same dinner and did not take your shoes off before entering the house? As both questions were rhetorical, please do not attempt to answer and allow me to continue: Your behaviour, and the behaviour of your friends, is insulting and disrespectful in the light of the Old Ways.”

Before Hermione could think of any reply, Phineas Nigellus disappeared from his portrait, most probably returning to his favourite portrait in the Headmaster's Office in Hogwarts.

Hermione had never heard anything of the Old Ways, or come across any reference to them in any of the books she had read. She looked thoughtful for a moment and decided to do what she did best: Research.

tbc

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Thank you, Ellie