The Witch and The Hunters

CHAPTER FOUR

Page count: 8

"Not what you were expecting, huh?" Hermione asked, a wry smirk tugging at her lips.

Sam cleared his throat. "So... what exactly is it that you do?" His voice was calm, but curiosity flickered in his eyes.

Hermione leaned back, folding her arms. "As Harry said earlier, I head the MLE department for crime in the Muggle World. The difference between Harry and me is that he deals with humans, and I deal with humans and magical creatures." She let the words hang, the weight of them settling in the room.

"Sounds dangerous," Sam said, leaning forward slightly.

"It is." She let out a short laugh. "But it's satisfying—locking up murderers and psychopaths. Fourteen years fighting monsters — most still in training robes." She snorted softly. "I deal with Werewolves, Vampires, Veela, Sirens, Succubi, Basilisks, Acromantulas, Mermaids—you name it. Usually, you Hunters do my job for me, which frees me up to focus on Death Eaters. I prioritise the cases with the highest body counts. I've now got over fifty Aurors under my command. Draco stays in England—he's got a family—so he doesn't travel often."

Sam's brow furrowed. "And your family? Siblings? Parents?"

Hermione's jaw tightened. She looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers. "No family. My grandparents died when I was little, and my parents had no siblings. I was an only child. After Dumbledore's death, I erased my parents' memories. I never existed to them—no daughter, no trace... I still remember the way my mother smiled at me, having no idea who I was..." She fell quiet, brow furrowed. Then she violently shook her head, curls bouncing. "Then I gave them new identities and nudged them to leave Europe."

"Why?" Sam asked softly.

"I had to. I was Harry Potter's Muggle-born best friend. He was Undesirable Number One; I was Number Two. Voldemort would've used my parents against me." Her voice cracked, but she steadied herself.

"So... what happened to them?"

"They never even reached the airport." Her voice dropped to a whisper, thumb rubbing her palm. "I made sure the ones responsible didn't walk away from the Final Battle."

Dean shifted in his chair, leaning forward, eyes locked on her. Bobby exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, his face tight with thought.

"I have no biological family," Hermione continued, voice steadier, "but I have the Weasleys, the Potters, the Malfoys. It's... not the same. Ron and I were supposed to get married, have a horde of red-headed kids running around." She rolled her eyes. "We dated after the war. Didn't work. Things shifted after that. He can't keep a girlfriend for more than a month—serial cheater. Yet they all think they can change him, get a ring, the key to his vault..."

She shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping. "George took years to heal after Fred died. Now he's married with two kids. Charlie's in Romania, working with dragons. Bill's married with three kids. Percy got married too—something I didn't see coming. He's expecting his first child. Ginny and Harry have three kids, and Draco married Luna, who's pregnant with their first. They all have their lives, and I have mine. I'm not tied down to one place, so I travel for work—across the globe. The remaining Death Eaters have almost been wiped out in Europe. Most fled here, to America. It's just me and Ricky now."

"Ricky?" Dean finally spoke, his voice cutting through the quiet.

Hermione's lips curled into a small grin. "He's around somewhere. Never far unless he's delivering a letter."

She whistled sharply. The room went still. Then, a hoot. Wings flapped, and an owl swooped through the open window, landing gracefully on her shoulder. It nuzzled her cheek, feathers a patchwork of brown and white, bright yellow eyes framed with pale rings.