Witch Hunt

4

12 Grimmauld Place was as dark and dismal as she remembered. Mrs Black still screeching at the door whenever anyone walked in. Kreacher muttering obscenities as he took in Hermione's bags.

Harry had been quick to move in after the war with Ginny, though they visited the Burrow often.

Despite their attempts to make the place their home, it was tainted by the long line of Blacks and their Purist ways.

The bedrooms had long since been redecorated, Sirius' posters impossible to remove from the walls. Ginny had taken to putting up wallpaper in the Muggle way to try to get anything to cover them up. They had been preparing a room for Teddy to stay in, hoping to take him in once they were married and ready to start their own family. The posters of scantily clad women on the walls were not the idea Ginny had in mind for the toddler's bedroom.

The room Hermione had been offered to stay in had been painted a baby blue, an attempt to bring life to the dark house. The large canopy bed draped with white, the duvet a soft, pillowy cream. It was a vast improvement to what it had resembled before.

Hermione was certain the ginger witch had fought Harry tooth and nail to make the changes. If Harry had it his way, 12 Grimmauld Place would have remained exactly the same. He had wanted to honour his godfather and his family.

The only thing that had swayed his decision was the reminder that Sirius had hated his family and his mother's house.

Hermione sat on the edge of the bed, looking around the room. Ginny had done well. Despite her anger, she would have to make a note to tell her.

A sound at the door caught her attention, she went to stand in the stairs to listen as Harry answered.

There was a woman at the entrance. She was tall with dark, curly hair and a curious expression. Despite having never before seeing her, there was something familiar about her face. Perhaps it was the crooked smile that played at the corner of her lips, or the mischief that danced in her dark eyes.

One look at her and Hermione knew the woman was positively wicked.

To her surprise, Harry let her in, stepping aside. Mrs Black's portrait was screeching again. This time, it was something about 'that good for nothing Potter' and 'that Mudblood wife of his'.

The mystery woman bowed her head toward the portrait and grinned diabolically. "Good evening, Madam," she said dramatically. "Oh, how good to see you after so many years. How do you do?"

Flattered by the attention, Mrs Black stopped screaming and stuck her nose in the air. "About time someone respected me in my own house. Even if it is only you, young lady."

The woman stood straight, running a leather-gloved hand along the front of her coat. "You flatter me, Aunt Walburga, truly. I am not so young as I once was. The years are catching up to me rather quickly now that I haven't your son to keep me laughing."

Her fingers curled around the edge of the wool garment, her eyes momentarily fluttering shut. She was holding back her emotions, trying to settle herself.

Opening her eyes again, she turned away from the painting, looking at Harry. "So, how have you been? How is your wife?"

He smiled easily and led her further inside. "She's good. We're alright. It's um- well, no we aren't all that good. My friend got a really bad deal with the whole marriage law business and things are tense."

The woman nodded, slowly pulling off her gloves. "You mentioned as much in your letter. Is she here now? I'd love to meet her."

At her words, Hermione tentatively made her way down the steps. She stood before the stranger and her friend, offering her a small wave. "Hello," she said. "I am said friend, Hermione Granger." She stuck out her hand to shake the newcomer's.