Chapter Text
It started roughly like this.
Hermione and Timothy have been aware of each other for several years, as that one cousin from overseas. A name on the family tree. They became actual friends when Tim got to accompany his parents on a trip to the Louvre, to present and donate a few artifacts from a recent dig.
As Hermione's parents had a trip to Paris planned, the two families decided to spend a few days together, and the kids were paired off.
All this to say, two children that could be labeled precociously bright at this age can get into a lot of trouble if left to their own devices for too long.
Add accidental magic to the mix? And well, Hermione won't get into the incredibly unimportant and unnecessary details.
However it ended, Hermione is a bright girl already used to talking her way out of trouble, and not afraid to weaponize an adult's weakness to Tim's big blue eyes. She gets the two off scot-free, and Tim tells her he owes her one. He gives her a phone number, and tells her to "Call whenever, I'll try my best to help."
Hermione never ends up needing this number and rarely even thinks about it till years later. After she's turned 11. After she begins to attend Hogwarts and meets two boys that become her best friends. While they had continued to exchange the occasional letter over the years, and Hermione had attended his parent’s funeral, they never did have much communication over the phone. With the addition of magic speeding up their correspondence, it was inevitable that eventually it was lost.
She might have never bothered with it at all, until the Triwizard Tournament tossed all her careful plans for the future out the window.
Before the end of the term Hermione had been spending her time doing last minute research in an attempt to figure out exactly what ritual Harry had been forced to participate in.
She never does figure it out, most likely the books Hermione needs aren't in the Hogwarts Library, so she has to owl order a few with Padma's help, but what she does know is this.
Quirrel couldn't touch Harry three years ago because of a protection his mother put on him as an infant.
This protection is blood based, according to the Headmaster.
Harry's blood was taken from him to be used in the ritual.
Voldemort is able to physically touch Harry since they now share blood.
The wards surrounding the Dursley House are, also according to Headmaster Dumbledore, based on the blood protection provided by Harry’s mother.
Therefore, it stood to reason to Hermione that Harry would no longer be safe from Voldemort at Privet Drive. She explained this to Harry and Ron, and tried to explain it to Headmaster Dumbledore himself.
Surely, she thought. Surely the Headmaster would already know this, and he would calmly explain he already had a plan in place. For once, the adults would be ahead of Hermione, and it would be taken care of without her or her friend’s interference.
Ron told her later they shouldn’t have gotten their hopes up.
“Really! It’s infuriating! All my research in the library, and all the books I’ve ordered have said that the ritual should have disrupted tjs connection to whatever wards based on Harry’s blood currently exist. It’s ridiculous!”
“What can you expect? I’ve asked every year. Dumbledore always finds a reason to send me back.”
Hermione hated the resignation in Harry’s voice, and the unfortunate fact that he was right.
Her boys were slumped together on one of the couches in the common room, watching Hermione pace and rant while puzzling through the mess of notes she’d taken throughout her research.
It made sense they hadn’t quite gotten it yet, Hermione knew after a couple pages she’d gotten quite sloppy and had gone back and forth adding new addendums to everything. She could have filled an entire journal by this point.
“That was when it was just ‘Harry not getting along with his relatives’, this is an actual threat to your safety Harry!”
Ron nudged Harry, letting the parchment he was holding fall to his lap. “You’re not safe with the Dursley’s either though mate.”
“No,” Hermione admitted, “you’re not. But to the Headmaster at least. . .”
“They’re my family and they love me.”
The three shared a wry grin at his mocking tone.
“Yes. That. In any case, we need to find a new solution.”
“Well, your notes said the wards could be recast, right? Can’t we get Dumbledore or someone to do that at a different house?”
Ron frowned.
“I might be able to get Bill to do that? He’s good with wards from what I know.”
“Yes I thought of that, but the problem is that we can’t link it to Harry, because then Voldemort and possibly his followers could get access as well. And I love my parents, but I don’t know if they'd be willing to have strange people about the house casting spells.”
Harry sighed and also gave up on the sheets of parchment, resting his head on Ron’s shoulder as they both leaned back into the couch.
“And Mum already said Harry could come over for part of the holiday, but Dumbledore keeps insisting you spend at least a few weeks at the Dursley’s first. You coming over means nothing if Voldemort gets to you first.”
Hermione threw herself next to Harry, taking a moment to be grateful her dear friend was still with them. It’d been terrifying to watch Harry try to compete against older students, then disappear twice in one night. Once, to be forced into a ritual with the magical world’s equivalent of a supervillain, and then nearly killed again by said supervillain’s surprisingly competent lackey.
She was furious at the lack of precautions taken, and then again at the Ministry for seemingly turning their backs on the boy they'd been so eager to put on a pedestal. That anger hadn’t faded, but at least the issue of the wards seemed to give her an outlet. Especially since exams were done for the year.
This whole situation was a bloody mess. Hermione had no idea how she was going to sanitize this whole mess to her parents. Or to Tim. She did still try to write him a letter now and then. Didn’t Modern Magical History say that Voldemort targeted Muggleborn and Half-blood families during the First War? Hermione would have to find a way to keep them out of it.
Tim especially, she was quite sure he was mixed up with some local American heroes somehow, though she couldn't safely get specifics without seeing him in person.
She paused, staring at the piece of paper Harry had been reading over for a moment before grabbing it again.
“Hermione?”
“Hold on, I might have something.”
She could feel more than see her boys exchanging an amused look before settling in to wait.
Hermione read over the section on binding again, then flipped through the rest of the pages shoved at her by Ron till she found the section she’d called “wishy-washy”. Most of it was made up of her own guesses based on Harry or the Headmaster’s own testimony. A simple list of possible specific ward-schemes the Headmaster could have applied, or Lily Potter could have created in preparation to protect her infant child.
Several minutes of plotting and rearranging later, and Hermione had a plan. It relied on a few variables, but at least one could easily work as a proper safe haven for the summer. Perhaps even a temporary relief from the inevitable flood of scandal the Daily Prophet was sure to unleash.
At least Rita Skeeter wouldn’t be a problem. Hermione had made sure of that last week.
“Right. We still have a couple weeks left in the school year. I need to send a couple of letters, but it should do quite nicely. Ron, hold off on sending an owl to Bill just yet. I don’t know what resources my cousin may have at his disposal.”
The two boys stared at her.
“Your cousin?” Harry said cautiously.
“Yes.” She paused, turning and taking Harry’s hand. “I promise you he’s not at all like you’ve described your cousin. Tim’s quite nice, and just as smart as I am. He and his family are muggle as far as I know, but he’ll help us, I’m sure of it. He also owes me a favor from our childhood, so I can always fall back on that.”
Harry’s face seemed to gain some enthusiasm, though Ron’s looked incredulous.
“Hermione, are you, the one who said the only thing worse than death is being expelled. About to break the most important rule of the Wizarding World?”
Hermione huffed, “Nonsense. Those rules exist for a reason. Honestly people can barely handle actual aliens and people with super powers. I don’t expect Lex Luthor to take kindly to an entire secret society living right under his nose.”
Harry grinned slightly, while Ron looked baffled.
“Right. Time to turn in I think, I’ll need to send my letters off before bed. Harry, may I use Hedwig?”
“Of course. She’ll be happy to help.”
“Hold on mate, explain, what does she mean aliens.”
Hermione smiled wide as she marched upstairs to her dormitory.
Oh yes. This would all do quite nicely.