Chapter 1 - Frogspawn And Teacups

Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize belongs to me. Just borrowed. Will be returned. Snape is welcome to stay, though.

A big Thank You goes to my beta-reader, Maggie, and my beta-reader and brit-picker Melusin, who both are always encouraging, helpful, and thorough.

Chapter 1 – Frogspawn And Teacups

"So, you are interested in magic, too?" Sabrina said with a bright smile. She was a rather pretty girl with long, brown hair that was tinted red with henna. Her fashionable jeans and top were decorated with a multitude of necklaces and with tiny pearls of semi-precious stones, crystals and silver amulets. The silver bracelets on her wrists were jingling with every movement, and her perfume had slight patchouli overtones; it wasn't unpleasant, but persistent. She looked like a Muggle version of Sibyl Trelawney.

Ron looked at her round-eyed while Harry worked hard to suppress his giggles. Hermione gave them both a stern look and nodded solemnly.

"What are you into? Sunlight healing, crystals, angels? Or the Tarot?" Sabrina beamed, but didn't wait for a reply. "I, myself, prefer crystals and the pendulum. I also do aura reading." She looked at Hermione. "You, for instance, have a wonderful aura. It's very strong, very harmonic. I would say that you have a calming, healing influence on your friends. Wherever you are there's peace and harmony, isn't that right?"

Ron made a funny noise and started to cough. Harry patted his back and nodded. "Oh, yes, very calming. Absolutely..."

Hermione looked daggers at him, but couldn't keep it up and started to laugh. "Perhaps," she said, grinning. "I certainly always make an effort to keep these two out of trouble."

"There you have it. Sabrina is very talented." The fifth person at the table spoke up. He had been quietly admiring the talkative girl; it was clear that he was very infatuated with her.

Sabrina smiled at him fondly. "Her aura is almost as strong as yours, Dudley. And those of your cousin and his friend are interesting, too. A clear sign that you all should be friends. That will bring your energies into a fine balance. Good for the karma."

Harry barely suppressed a snort. He took another swig from his beer and winked at Dudley. "Sure, all peace and harmony between us, eh, big D?"

Dudley smiled sheepishly. "Sabrina taught me that it's good for my karma to make peace with you, Harry. I am strong. It is my duty to protect the weak."

"Is it now?" Harry sounded unconvinced.

Hermione thought that the change in Harry's bullying cousin had come too suddenly, too unexpectedly for him. But Harry seemed to like the beer, so maybe the evening wasn't so unbearable for him. He took another long gulp and emptied the bottle.

They were all rather plastered by now. The evening had started with an Indian takeaway eaten in a park and had progressed through several pubs where Sabrina, who was two years older than Dudley, had bought the drinks. Finally, they had landed in her flat where they had continued drinking. Hermione didn't think that Harry could have endured the evening without the amount of beer he was gulping down; he had looked as if he wanted to hex someone on more than one occasion.

Hermione herself was sipping a glass of cider; she had lost count of how many she had had that evening. The sacrifices one made for a friend... It had been her idea to form a sort of alliance with the new and changed Dudley, so she felt compelled to at least pretend to listen attentively to the nattering of Dudley's girlfriend.

"I have some Scotch stacked away. Nicked it from my father," Sabrina said. "And then we can do a few Tarot readings. Or would you prefer the crystal ball?"

She looked directly at Ron, who jerked upright, and after a brief pause and a wink at Hermione suggested, "How about some dream oracle?"

"Ooh, that's truly esoteric," Sabrina gushed. "Are you keeping a dream diary? Do you do lucid dreaming?"

"Just the dream diary, sometimes." He grinned at Harry who hid his face in his hands. "Didn't you mention whisky?"

"Oh, yes, yes..." And she went off to fetch it, her slim figure followed by Dudley's stare.

"She's talented, she is," Dudley slurred. "Bestest girl in the world. So sorry, Harry. Will protect you from now on. My duty, y' know."

"Right," Harry said, still sounding unconvinced, but a bit kinder than before. The beer seemed to have mellowed his mood, so maybe now he saw some hope for Dudley after all. He smiled at Sabrina when she poured him some whisky.

Hermione declined, whispering to Ron that someone had to keep them from splinching when they Disapparated.

"You can stay overnight," Sabrina said, "no need to disappear. I have some sleeping bags around somewhere."

"No, we can't," Hermione said firmly, frowning at the longing glance Ron gave the bottle. "We'll be leaving Privet Drive in a few days, and we still have a lot of organising to do, haven't we, boys?" She looked at them sternly.

"Yes, we'd better go now," Harry said, his relief barely concealed. Clearly, he wasn't even half as drunk as he appeared.

"Sure, if you say so," Ron said, swaying slightly as he stood up. He put an arm around Hermione's waist.

"Wait," Sabrina said, "I have something for you." She held out some crystals, one for each of them. "This is for you, Harry. It keeps your mind focused and your energy flowing." She gave him an opaque, dark blue stone with white and grey streaks in it.

"This is for you, Ronald." He smiled at her and took it. "For some reason, I feel that your heart will need it soon. It soothes the pain of loss and gives you inner strength."

Ron's smile faded, and he looked worried when he took the rose-coloured, semi-transparent stone. With as large a family as his, and in the middle of a war, the likelihood of one or more losses was great. But that was something Sabrina couldn't know.

"This one here will make your speech clear and convincing," she said to Hermione. "Your wisdom and intelligence is concealed under your façade of book-learning, and it takes a lot of convincing to make others see this. This will help you with it."

Hermione thanked her as she took the blue-green, translucent stone, her eyes wide in surprise. Sabrina's words had sounded like rather good analyses of all three of them. But that wasn't possible. Sabrina was a Muggle, and Hermione didn't put much trust in divination anyway. Maybe Sabrina was simply a very perceptive woman... Well, the stones wouldn't hurt, she thought, and with a friendly wave to Dudley, who had decided to stay behind, they left.

The next morning saw all three of them in dire need of a Pepperup Potion, and Hermione was glad that she had brought a stock of basic healing potions along. The day passed uneventfully; as with every day, they mentally went through all possible places where Lord Voldemort's Horcruxes might be hidden and thought about possible ways to destroy them. However, when he saw how those speculations made Harry even more depressed than usual, Ron suggested a game of wizard chess.

They were still at it when the golden light of the late afternoon sun shone through the window in Harry's room on Privet Drive. One ray of sunlight found its way through the open flaps of the small tent that was erected in the middle of the room, the furniture having been pushed against the wall. Although the tent appeared tiny from the outside, the inside was very different. The canvas walls contained a spacious area with richly coloured carpets, comfortable divans, chairs, a table, the small chess table where Ron and Harry sat, and two separate rooms where they slept: Ron and Harry in one, Hermione in the other.

Hermione, who had been reading the Daily Prophet and lounging on one of the divans, put the paper down and studied her two best friends unhurriedly.

There was Harry, whose untidy black hair stood on end in all directions; a condition that wasn't helped by the frequent pulling and swiping of his hands. He looked worried and slightly annoyed; the progression of the game didn't seem to be in his favour.

And there was Ron, whose red hair was shining in the sunlight. He sat with a smug expression on his face. The game seemed to be going well for him, which wasn't surprising since he was the best chess player Hogwarts had seen in years.

Hermione smiled fondly. Ron had become far more than a friend over the last weeks after school had ended so suddenly and violently with Albus Dumbledore's death. Ron and Hermione had finally worked out their differences and admitted that they had fancied each other for a long time.

Ron looked up from his game and smiled back at her. His smile had become far too charming, she thought; to her it was almost irresistible. She sighed happily. Their understanding had brought her a hitherto unknown stability that made her happy and confident. As long as she could rely on that feeling, she thought she would be capable of facing the uncertain and dangerous path that lay before them.

Being with Ron was like coming home. He was her tie to the wizarding world, the anchor that grounded her. She finally knew where she belonged after searching for so long, always needing to prove to herself – and the rest of the world – that she was a true witch, and that she deserved her place at Hogwarts. To prove that she wasn't a freak, as the likes of Draco Malfoy wanted to make her believe.

The thought of Draco Malfoy caused her to shiver. She remembered what Harry had told them, how Draco hadn't been able to cast the Killing Curse on Dumbledore after all, and was almost sorry that she hadn't thought more kindly of him while she still had the opportunity. But it was too late for that, now.

She leaned back and remembered the day after Albus Dumbledore's funeral, the last breakfast of the remaining students in the Great Hall before the Hogwarts Express brought them back home, back to the illusion of safety.

They were all there, all the students that hadn't been taken home by their parents after the funeral. Each at their own table were the Gryffindors, the Hufflepuffs, the Ravenclaws and the Slytherins. Among the Slytherins, one particular seat was empty. Crabbe and Goyle still looked lost without their friend; Pansy Parkinson was subdued, but glared defiantly at everyone who dared to look at her longer than the blink of an eye. And then the owls came.

Hermione had started to read the headlines of the Daily Prophet when she heard a scream. Looking up, she saw that Pansy had jumped up, hands pressed to her mouth, eyes wide and unbelieving. The paper dropped from her fingers. She looked around wildly, started to wail and ran out of the hall.

Hermione was skimming the front page of the paper when she spotted it: a small article in the lower right-hand corner.

"Death Eater Revenge or Punishment of the Unwilling?

Narcissa Malfoy née Black and her son Draco are survived by husband and father Lucius Malfoy, who is currently serving time in Azkaban for his involvement in last year's attack on the Ministry of Magic. Our reporters were unable to obtain a comment from Mr. Malfoy."

The Great Hall was shocked into silence. This was the second time that one of their own had been killed, and so soon after the murder of the Headmaster, and by the same person. Severus Snape, the ugly, loathed Potions teacher, had turned out to be a dangerous, murderous Death Eater. The shock couldn't have been greater.

It was a very subdued group that set out on the Hogwarts Express later that day, and an equally quiet, but determined, group that went to face the Dursleys, Harry's only surviving relatives, and forced them to accept them all in their home.

Hermione and Ron had insisted on accompanying Harry to the Dursleys' home. Harry had to stay with them one last time, to seal and complete the protection his mother had given him when she sacrificed her life for his own. This ancient and obscure protective charm would end on his seventeenth birthday, which was only a few weeks away.

Harry was the chosen one, the one who had been determined by prophecy and unknowingly marked by his enemy, the Dark Lord Voldemort himself. He had to kill Voldemort, but first he had to find and destroy the Horcruxes: vessels that housed fragments of Voldemort's soul, artefacts that would prevent his death, even should his body be destroyed.

After Albus Dumbledore, his fatherly friend and teacher died, Harry thought that he would have to go on alone. He didn't want to endanger his friends; he even broke up with his girlfriend. He felt that he needed to be unattached in order to be less vulnerable. Hermione and Ron had quickly cured him of that notion. They simply refused to leave him and followed him to the Dursley's home.

Vernon Dursley's threats and complaints soon ceased when he realized that Ron and Hermione were of age in the wizarding world and perfectly free to use every legal hex and curse on him they saw fit. It was good for them that he didn't know about the Muggle Protection Act.

Petunia Dursley, Harry's aunt, only watched in stony silence, her narrow lips pressed tightly together, eyes flashing angrily.

Of course, she refused to feed them. However, after a day or two, she grudgingly allowed Hermione to use her kitchen after Hermione proved that she could keep the kitchen, and everything she used in there, meticulously clean. Hermione and Ron took turns Apparating to Diagon Alley to bring back the food and drink the three of them needed during their stay.

The strange and unusually mellow behaviour of the Dursleys was, of course, a direct result of Dudley's rebelliousness.

Dudley, the only son of the Dursleys, had come back from school oddly changed and with strangely outrageous ideas. He had lost at least two of his many chins and gained muscle instead, and although he still was big, he was now well proportioned. His behaviour was even stranger. He actually contradicted his father when he was ranting about Harry, Harry's friends, magic, and wizards in general. Dudley even apologized to Harry for the bad feelings of the past and wanted to make up for it. But worst of all, in his mother's eyes, he refused to be pampered and fed little morsels of his favourite food. He had the nerve to call the puddings and sweets 'unwholesome'. In short: it was all the fault of Dudley's girlfriend.

The new state of affairs had Vernon Dursley oscillating from fits of anger with a brick red face, bulging eyes, and a lot of yelling, to fits of quiet rage where he pattered through the house and constantly muttered threats under his breath. His small, pig-like eyes darted around in search of a new victim for his threats and accusations, and he had taken up his old habit of ripping out the hairs in his moustache.

It was the girlfriend's fault. And when it wasn't Sabrina's fault, it was Harry's fault since he and his lot had introduced magic, weirdness, and abnormal behaviour into Dudley's well-ordered world, an act which must have caused Dudley to fall for such a girl. Dudley, who was supposed to succeed Vernon at his drill company, now wanted to open a wellness centre with his girlfriend and to teach Asian martial arts. If there hadn't been that strong physical resemblance, Vernon would have seriously doubted that Dudley was his son.

Harry and Ron watched the behaviour of their reluctant hosts in bewilderment, Hermione with amusement. While Harry had accepted Dudley's apologies, he had remained wary and suspicious. He thought that such a radical change in his bullying cousin would be too good to last.

Ron was of the opinion that Dudley should be given the benefit of the doubt, but that it wouldn't hurt to do a bit of real magic in front of him from time to time, just as a reminder.

Hermione just went and talked to Dudley, and soon found out that Dudley's girlfriend was heavily into something that Muggles called 'New Age'. Sabrina called herself a witch. She taught Dudley about crystals, herbs, pendulums, and Tarot cards, and she was convinced that big guys who bullied smaller, weaker ones, ended up with bad karma. That was the end of Dudley's boxing career, and the beginning of his martial arts training, as well as the beginning of his spiritual journey. From now on, he wanted to be the strong man who protected those who were weak, and he would start with his cousin Harry.

Hermione was very amused when she heard that story, but she suppressed her laughter and encouraged Dudley in his newfound virtues, praising Sabrina's cleverness and Dudley's good sense. That had brought them the invitation.

Dudley had told Sabrina that his cousin was staying at his place, together with his best friends, and that they were interested in magic. Sabrina was burning to meet them and suggested inviting the three friends over for a night out. The invitation was accepted and the date set, and so they had met shortly before Harry and his friends would leave the Dursleys forever.

Harry strongly objected to spending time with Dudley, but, as Hermione pointed out, a Dudley who was Harry's friend and potential ally could be the best revenge Harry could possibly have on the Dursleys. That seemed to convince him, and he reluctantly agreed to spend an evening with Dudley and his girlfriend.

Hermione chuckled quietly. That get-together yesterday had certainly been something. Ron's face when he had learned about Sabrina's 'magic' had been priceless.

Hermione looked at Harry and Ron again and wondered if they were hungry. They hadn't felt much like eating this morning, after all that alcohol, but by now, the Pepperup Potion had done its work, and she felt a slight grumble in her stomach.

"Hungry?" she asked, standing up.

"Hmmm..." came an absent-minded grunt from the chess table. From the soft screams and clanking noises of battle on the chessboard, she guessed that the game was nearing its conclusion.

"I'll get something for us," she said and left the room, carefully checking the hallway for a roaming Vernon Dursley, but the corridor was clear.

When she arrived downstairs, she heard angry voices from the kitchen and approached cautiously.

"I forbid you to stay out overnight," she heard Vernon Dursley yell. "I forbid you to go out with that girl. As long as you put your feet under my table..."

"As if I cared... Try to stop me." Dudley sounded petulant, but determined.

"But Duddykins..." Petunia's shrill voice penetrated the closed door easily.

"Oh, stop fussing, Mum, I'm not a child any more," Dudley yelled and violently pushed the door open. He stopped short when he saw her, "Hi, Hermione..." he said, grinning, and stomped up the stairs to his bedroom.

His father rushed out after him, red-faced and sweating.

"You!" he snarled when he saw Hermione, but when she lifted her wand, he backed off.

"It's all you and your freakish family's fault!" he yelled at his wife, then ran out through the back door and slammed it behind him.

Petunia Dursley stood in the middle of her spotless kitchen, a plate of pudding in one hand, the other hand pressed to her mouth. She had a slightly dazed expression on her face.

"Hi," Hermione said, slowly approaching the refrigerator. "I'll just get a bite for the three of us. I'll be gone in no time..."

"The day when I never have to see any of you again can't come too soon," Petunia snapped. "I wish I had never laid eyes on that spawn of my freak sister, or that filthy stuff she left behind."

Hermione's head shot up in surprise and she bumped it on the refrigerator door when she turned around quickly, all attentive.

"Stuff? What stuff?"

"Some of her old school things, what do I know? Might as well be old frogspawn. It's all in that old trunk of hers," Petunia said dismissively. "Should have thrown that stuff out long ago..."

"You mean you still have things that belonged to Harry's mother?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

"Yes, but only because that old freak made me keep her old things after I agreed to take the boy."

"And you want to get rid of it?"

"Better today than tomorrow."

"Then why don't you give it to Harry?"

"Harry." Petunia spat the name out as if it were something foul in her mouth. "What would he have done with it, do you think? He'd have done more of his filthy magic, and I've had enough of that for a lifetime. He's turned out rebellious and unpleasant, just like that awful boy Lily was hanging about with all the time."

"You mean Harry's father, James Potter?" Hermione asked, intrigued.

"No, not him. He only came later. He was better looking... A bit better, at least," Petunia said, her nose wrinkled in disgust. "But that other one, that school friend of hers... He was as ugly as sin, an awful, mean, unpleasant boy... Sevitus, Servus, something like that was his name, one of those freakish wizard names..."

Hermione was shocked. "Severus? Severus Snape?"

"Yes, that's it. Do you know him?"

"Err, yes... He is... Err, he was a teacher at Hogwarts..."

"Oh – well, that explains a lot. A creature like that in charge of children..."

Hermione would have loved to point out that Petunia Dursley wasn't at all concerned about who would be in charge of Harry while he was living with them, but then she remembered how vehemently the Dursleys had opposed Harry's going to Hogwarts. Maybe she did have some strange and twisted concern for her nephew after all...

"Shall I make us a nice cup of tea, and you can tell me the story?" Hermione asked amiably. "It'll be good to get it off your chest, and maybe I'll learn something that could be important for Harry to know. And you can forget all about it afterwards."

Petunia looked unconvinced. "What good would that do? Why should I care about what's important for the boy?"

Hermione studied her for a moment. "Tell me, Mrs. Dursley, why did you accept Harry into your home? Wasn't it because of family ties; because he is your sister's son?"

Petunia wrinkled her nose and spat. "Certainly not. It was him, that old freak, Dumbledore, who made me do it."

"What did he say? Did he plead with you? Or offer you something in return?"

"I don't know why I'm telling you all this," Petunia said nastily. "No, he didn't threaten me. He wrote me a letter... I'm not a filthy murderer, you know." She stared hatefully at Hermione. "He made it clear that only my acceptance of the boy stood between him and certain, violent death at... at that madman's hands. Dumbledore said that if we refused, we might as well murder the boy right away..."

Hermione gasped. "Dumbledore wrote that?"

Petunia Dursley laughed shrilly. "Oh, yes, he did. He called it 'being more merciful' than trying to keep the boy alive in an orphanage where he would have been sent if my stupid sister had had the decency to die a normal death and hadn't insisted on placing herself in the middle of a war with a madman."

"Oh!" Hermione's eyes flashed in anger. She knew that Harry would have preferred life in an orphanage to life with his abusive relatives. She had to swallow down a sharp retort, keeping her anger firmly in check. She did want to hear the story, after all.

"He also promised that we would be included in her protection, but we don't care about her magic, we don't want her filthy protection." Petunia narrowed her eyes. "We tried to get the magic out of the boy, make him normal, not someone to be ashamed of, but we didn't go far enough."

"What?" Hermione didn't want to believe what she had heard. "That's not... how would you... how could you possibly hope to get the magic out of him?"

"It's something I heard that awful boy say to my sister. What did you call him, Snape?"

Hermione nodded, all attention.

"Might as well start at the beginning and get it over with. Afterwards, I don't want to hear another word about it, ever again."

Hermione stared at her, nodded again, and poured another cup of tea for each of them.

"It was in the summer after their third year, I think. They were what? Fourteen or something like that. I am two years older, and I had just started to go out with Vernon..." She paused; her eyes were taking on a faraway look.

"Of course, she couldn't leave well enough alone. She would sneak behind us when we were alone and scare us. She even offered me one of her foul concoctions... 'This is a love potion, Petunia, it will make sure that your Veeernon lurves you forever, aaaahhh...'" Petunia's face was beet-red while she imitated her sister; her eyes burnt angrily. "My parents found her behaviour funny. Just like they found everything oh-so wonderful that their brilliant daughter, the witch, did. And then, one day, she wheedled them into inviting her school friend into our home, as if one of those freaks wasn't enough in the house... And they did, they invited that... Snape."

Hermione stared at her wide-eyed, her tea cold and forgotten on the kitchen table.

"His parents wrote to our parents and accepted the invitation. Apparently, his mother was very ill, and they wanted her examined in that freakish hospital of yours."

"St. Mungo's?"

"Yes, whatever. They asked if the boy could stay for a few days, and so he came." Petunia shuddered.

"They were together all the time, laughing, talking, snooping after me. They were together so much that I wanted to know what they were doing... My parents were such trusting fools... But I knew better, I knew what girls her age get up to. So I started to watch them and listen to their conversations when they weren't aware of it." Petunia shuddered again, her face taking on a totally disgusted expression.

"I heard how they discussed all kinds of things they did at school. And he told her snippets about their wizard world. About their wizard prison. About those foul creatures that guard the wizard prison..."

"Dementors," Hermione whispered.

"Yes, them. And he told her how they sucked every good feeling out of the prisoners until they were so wretched that they lost their magic..." Petunia looked triumphant; Hermione was very pale.

"When I heard that, I knew that my parents were just too weak to get rid of my sister's freakishness. A firm hand, strong discipline, hard work, and there wouldn't have been frogspawn dripping from her pockets, or rat's tails on our teacups each time she came home from that school..." Petunia almost smiled, eyes flashing. "And that was exactly what we tried with the boy. But we weren't hard enough." She frowned.

"Anyway, my brilliant sister couldn't hear enough of those tales. She asked again and again about all these abnormal things in their world. They had their heads stuck together all the time... and then she kissed him."

"She kissed him?" Hermione felt as if her eyes were about to pop out of their sockets; she couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Yes. And it was she who started it, not him. It was so like her. She had always admired him. I have no idea what she saw in him. That greasy hair... Those awkward, jerky movements... And that nose... But my sister had talked of little else other than 'her best friend' ever since her first year."

"So did they go out together?" Hermione croaked, too shocked to speak clearly.

"I don't think so. I only saw them kissing once, and it must have been their first time, too. When they were done, they looked at each other, wiped their mouths on their sleeves and burst out laughing. 'Eeew,' my saintly sister said. 'That was strange.'

'I felt nothing, no heartbeat quickening, no breath catching in my throat, nothing,' the boy said.

'Me neither,' my foolish sister giggled. 'So maybe we don't fancy each other after all. What a shame...'

I couldn't believe it; they were experimenting. I was so disgusted that I huffed, and they realized that they weren't alone. My sister's room was next to mine, and they spent most of their time together in her room. Our rooms were connected through a door, and I could see and hear a lot through the keyhole... When they found out that I had been watching them, that boy whipped out his wand and hexed me."

Petunia ground her teeth, her eyes glowing angrily. "I had green polka dots all over my face and body, and those two almost exploded laughing. I was so angry. I ran to my parents straight away and told them everything. I had a date with Vernon that night, but of course I couldn't go looking like that."

Petunia breathed deeply; apparently she needed to calm herself. "Wouldn't you expect my parents to get angry and scold? Hah. Of course not. They lectured me, saying that listening at keyholes was wrong..." She stared out of the window and swallowed a few times before continuing.

"I was very glad when the boy left the next day. He was picked up by his father, who seemed to be in a very bad mood. He grumbled when he thanked my parents and then started to yell at the boy as soon as they left our house. I think that man had the right idea on how to deal with young freaks like that. 'Nothing helps,' the man yelled. 'All your foolish wand waving is completely useless.' With that he dragged the boy away, and I shall be very glad to neither talk nor think about him any more. And that was that."

Petunia rose and put the tea things into the sink. She never allowed Hermione to use cleaning charms in her presence.

Hermione sat stunned, still unable to speak coherently.

"Hold on," she finally said. "How could he have hexed you? The Department for the Control of Underage Magic would have sent an owl and threatened your parents with a penalty, surely? And someone would have come and reversed that polka dot hex?"

"Oh, no, not in our house," Petunia spat. "My parents were so proud my sister was a witch that they would have done anything for her. They went to that Minister of Magic and convinced her that small amounts of magic should go unpunished in our house. They argued that my saintly sister would be at a disadvantage if she couldn't practice some of her spells at home, like wizard children can. No one cares what they do as long as they are with their family. So that woman... Millicent something... gave special permission for underage magic in our home, and that's how he could hex me, the freak."

"I see," Hermione whispered. "That must have been Millicent Bagnold, the Minister before Cornelius Fudge," she murmured and then rose resolutely.

"Thank you for the tea and for telling me this, Mrs. Dursley."

She gathered the food for herself and the boys and went back to Harry's room. The boys still hadn't finished their game and hardly noticed that she was back.