Dumbledore walked around his desk and took seat. "I wanted to talk to you about what's been happening."
"Clearly," said Harry, taking seat on the chair opposite. "Otherwise I would not be here." "I must ask you, Harry, whether there is anything you'd like to tell me," said Dumbledore gently. "Anything at all."
Harry thought of Malfoy shouting, "You'll be next, Mudbloods!" Then he thought of the disembodied voice he had heard twice. He thought, too, about what everyone was saying about him, and his annoyance that he was somehow connected with Salazaar Slytherin…
"Yes," said Harry. "I find myself becoming most upset about the continued ongoing bullying that seems to be running rampant through this school while the teaching staff does nothing about it. Calling people vile names like 'Mudblood' should be punished as bullying, Albus.
"Further - after it was made clear to you on numerous occasions I was never to be in the same room with you alone - your Deputy, Professor McGonagall, brought me up here and then abandoned me. These two points, of course, I will be raising with my godfather and magical guardians."
"Errr - yes," said Dumbledore. "I shall look into these… allegations. Thank you for your time, Harry."
Finally, it was the 21st December and the Express was leaving for Kings Cross that day. Harry had spent the days following the 'incidents', as he'd come to call them, having the students giving him wide berths; and looking at him in fear; wherever he went.
It was only his friends, Luna Lovegood, and - funnily enough - the Weasley twins who refused to be scared of him.
When sitting at the Ravenclaw table for breakfast on the Saturday the next day, Luna came up and asked to sit next to him. Surprised, he invited her to sit.
"You're not afraid of me, Luna?" he asked.
"No," she replied, in her light and airy voice. "Why would I be?"
"Because the rest of the student body seems to have it in their heads that I'm the Heir of Slytherin," he said.
"Oh, I have no doubt you're an heir, Harry," she replied, filling her plate and making a face with the food as she went. "But, when you stop to think about it, most wizards and witches who have blood that goes back a few hundred years or more, are likely to also be heirs. Me included."
"That's what we said," replied Harry, surprised. "I'm glad you, at least, realise that." "I do believe, however," she said, still playing with her food. "That you're the true Heir of Gryffindor."
"Huh?" he asked. Daphne smacked his arm. He barely acknowledged it.
"I'm the Heir of Gryffindor?" he asked the girl, in a little shock.
"Oh, yes," she said, preparing to attack her breakfast 'face'. "You'll see."
Harry, not knowing what to make of the odd girl's statement, decided to ignore it and let her eat.
Instead, he turned to Hermione and asked, "Have you managed to contact your parents, yet, and tell them about how we want to take you to Gringotts to have a special kind of test done?" "Yes," she replied. "But, like me, they want to know what this test is. Are you going to tell me now?"
"No," he replied. "I don't want to 'jinx' it. Plus, there's only a slim chance it will work out like we think it may, and we don't want to get your hopes up in advance."
"And, it's not dangerous, right?" she asked.
"No, it's not dangerous," said Daphne breaking in. "You just need to trust we know what we're talking about. And, don't forget, it's Harry's responsibility as your Protector to keep you safe. That includes in this."
"But you're keeping a secret about me, from me," pouted Hermione.
"No," said Daphne. "Only a faint suspicion." Looking more fully at Hermione, she begged, "Please let us do this for you. Think of it as an early Christmas present and you're not allowed to open it until we're at Gringotts."
With a sigh, Hermione said, "Alright."
On Tuesday morning, the day after they arrived back in London, the Grangers floo'ed to Greengrass Estate.
They were joining the Greengrasses and Sirius for the trip to Gringotts, and then helping with the kids while they went Christmas shopping.
Walking in to Gringotts together, Harry asked to speak to Bloodfang, with whom they had an appointment. They were shown into Bloodfang's office a short time later.
"Lord Potter," said Bloodfang, after the initial greetings were exchanged. "Everything has been arranged." Looking at Hermione, he asked, "I take it this is the young witch of whom we're testing today?"
"Yes, Bloodfang, my friend," replied Harry. "Shall we?"
The goblin nodded and pulled a small dish from within his desk that looked partially full of ink, and placed it on his desk close to the edge nearest Harry and company. Then he withdrew a sheet of parchment and a specially shaped quill. And, finally, a goblin ritual knife.
Hermione took one look at the knife and gasped, as did her parents.
Harry placed his hand on Hermione's shoulder and said, "Easy, Hermione. It's not as bad as it looks. I did this a year and a half ago, just before my eleventh birthday." Bloodfang looked up and grinned. He said, "Step forward, please, witch Granger; and I shall explain what you need to do."
Hermione took a deep breath and let it out slowly, calming down. Then stepped up to the edge of the desk.
Bloodfang nodded and said, "You need to take the ritual knife in your left hand and make a small cut in your right ring finger. Then let three drops of blood fall into the dish. I will then heal the cut on your finger."
Hermione nodded and, tentatively, picked up the knife in her left hand. Taking a steadying breath she nicked the pad on her right ring finger and held it over the dish. As soon as three drops of blood dripped into the ink she pulled her hand to the side, and Bloodfang reached out and took her hand. After he passed his other hand over hers, he pulled it away to show the cut was now completely healed. And took the knife from her left hand.
Putting the knife away he then took the quill and used the very tip of it to stir the ink.
Suddenly, the quill looked like it wanted to leap out of his hand. Holding it tightly, he moved it over to the parchment, placing it vertically in the middle of the sheet. When he let go of it, it stood up straight for a moment before it started to quickly write on its own.
It took a little while before it finished what it was writing and stayed still on the page.
Bloodfang reached out and took the quill away, dropping it into the draw on his desk where he placed the knife.
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