Harry Potter and the Blood of Merlin.

Chapter two - Attics and ancestors

Hermione sat at her desk in her room ticking off items on the inventory list she had prepared the previous evening. She wouldn't be returning to her parents' home again until the following summer and she needed to make sure she had everything before she left for the Burrow. A neatly stacked pile of books stood beside her and she chewed the end of the pen as she fought to remember which one was missing.

'Standard book of spells Grade 6...' she mumbled to herself.

Her bedroom door creaked slightly and she turned to see Crookshanks slink into her room. The ginger cat jumping to the windowsill to sit in the morning sunlight. She smiled and continued with her list.

'A Hogwarts, A History of course!' she exclaimed, 'How could I forget' she had curled on her bed last night re reading what had to be her favorite book. The first book she had read about the wizarding world to which she had been so surprised to be invited to. She could remember the day when that knock at her front door had changed everything. They had been sitting down to lunch, her mother had made salad and was just plating up food. When they had heard the knock her father had tutted but being a polite man stood to answer the door. When he hadn't returned a few minutes later Hermione and her mother had followed him into the hall.

'You must be mistaken madam' Hermione had heard her father tell the unwelcome knocker.

'Why yes that is my daughter' he said and stood aside to allow the visitor to see into the hall and his daughter who was slightly stood behind her mother.

'Who is this Andrew' her mother had asked and without a reply the stranger answered her.

'I, Mrs. Granger am Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmistress of Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry' Said the tall woman in a Scottish accent then turning to face Hermione the stranger addressed her with stern but kind eyes 'you Miss Granger are a witch.'

A thump from the attic brought her back and she looked at the ceiling to see her lamp shade swinging slightly. Going to the hall she stuck her head out to see her mother holding a set of step ladders by the opening to the attic.

'Your fathers looking for his old school things, we have our reunion tomorrow night' her mother answered Hermione's unanswered questions.

Another thump and a groan accompanied and she heard her fathers pained voice.

'Go help him Hermione, take this torch.' Her mother mumbled impatiently

Her mother handed her a small silver torch. It felt heavy and wrong in her hand. She longed for the time she could use her wand legally but until she came of age it was banned. She climbed the wooden ladder and peered in to the darkness to see that her father had dropped his torch and was stumbling around in the dark knocking over piles and seemed to have banged his head on one of the beams.

'Shine the light over here Princesse' he asked her picking out the French for princess in the way he always butchered the delicate French language. She picked out where he had dropped his own torch among the clutter.

She had never ventured into the attic, she had never had the need before today and she marveled at the strange assortment of artifacts hidden up here. Old tailor dummies, piles of books, candle sticks boxes overflowing with photographs and letters. As her father continued to rummage for whatever school things he needed she explored deeper into the attic.

'Be careful Hermione' her father warned, 'the boards are old. She looked down to see that indeed they looked worn and fragile. In the circle of light that illuminated from her torch a glimmer of silver caught her eye. She recognized it immediately, how could she not? but that was impossible. How could this magical thing end up in her attic after all they were all under Ministry regulation? She remembered all the paperwork that needed to be done for her to have one.

She picked up the time turner with delicate fingers and examined the metalwork. This one was different to the one she had had in her early Hogwarts days whereas that one had been made of fine gold part this one gleamed in bright silver as if it had just been polished. She had thought they had been destroyed in their recent visit the Ministry so how had one ended up in her attic.

A second beam of light came from over her shoulder. 'Oh my I haven't seen that for years' her father gasped with a tone of loving memories.

She span on the spot so quickly she must have shocked him as his eyes widened.

'What's wrong princesse' he asked her.

'How do you know what this is?' she enquired 'how is that even possible? I mean I'm a muggle born'

'That a magical person from non-magical parents isn't it?' he looked at her with quizzical eyes. She had her father's eyes, brown flecked with gold. She had his nose too where as she got her hair from her mother's side.

She nodded at him and he took he time turner from her gently. 'This Hermione belonged to your Grandmother who got it from her grandmother. It has been in your mother's family for generations and I suppose it belongs to you now. I remember how Grandma Lucile used to have it on display when I would go around and court your mother' he smiled and handed it back to her without a second thought.
'Your mother said it was a trinket that had been passed down, a pretty egg timer or something such' and he buried his head into a box again.

How could something like this have made its way into her attic she mused, thoughts racing. When she had learnt more about muggles she had quizzed her parents for any magical relatives and the nearest she got was a distant relatives on her dads side, some Welsh was her woman who apparently had a gift for healing, her mothers side had moved over from France after the war but she hadn't known of anything really either.

Hermione gentle turned the turner over in her hands, it looked similar to the ministry regulation one she had had yet this was silver and had fine engravings of flowers across it.

'Got it' her father called loudly.

She almost dropped the Turner, her fingertips just grasping onto it as she jumped, her father appeared, his face slightly dusty holding up his old school tie. She smiled at him and pocketed the Turner, she needed answers.