FicWad

“We’re getting off the subject.” Harry growled impatiently. “Now if you would excuse me, I’m going to go tell my sister the truth.” He started towards the door, which slammed shut and wouldn’t open when he reached it. “Let me out!” Harry snarled; his anger at the breaking point.

“Not until you promise not to tell Miss Granger-”

“Potter,” Harry corrected remorsefully “It’s Miss Potter now…it never should have been anything else. Besides,” he said; shaking his head and focusing on the here and now, not on what could- should have been “you think you can just keep me in here so I can’t tell her. Hold me hostage until I agree to your demands. If that’s what you think, then you’ve obviously never seen a muggle action movie because things like that never work out in the end. Where there’s a will, there’s a way and in case you’ve forgotten, nothing is stopping me from communicating by other means.” But in his heated state, Harry knew he would never be able to apply the right amount of concentration to reach her telepathically. If he didn’t concentrate enough, she would only hear a jumble of words none of which making any sense. If he concentrated too hard, he could kill her from the strain. Knowing this meant he wouldn’t even try and risk it, making his threat an empty one. The others, however, didn’t know this.

Dumbledore sighed. It was obvious that Harry couldn’t be bargained with. He turned to his Deputy Headmistress and said “Minerva, please bring Miss Gran- Potter here.”

McGonagall nodded and replied, “Right away, Albus.”

Harry was practicing a breathing technique he had read in a Defense book about dueling. “Professor,” Harry said “there’s a reason why I want Hermione to be told now. I’m not just making some blind, half baked decision here.”

“Oh?” sneered Snape, “and what, pray tell, is that reason?”

Harry glared at his least favorite teacher; then blushed and muttered something under his breath.

“I’m sorry Harry, but alas I’m an old man and my hearing is starting to fail me. You’ll have to speak louder, Harry.” Dumbledore said with a faint smile and one of his trademark twinkles in his eyes.
Harry’s blushed deepened as he said “Hermione…I think she uh…you know…has a…on me…ahh me.”

“And how do you know this?” Snape asked giving a crooked smile at the first year’s lapse in comfort with the subject.

“I’m a telepath. How do you think I know, Snively?” Harry retorted with a smirk.

“Never. Call. Me. That. Ever. Again.” Snape seethed, empathizing each word.

Harry, however, had other plans as Dumbledore could tell. Apparently he has inherited his father’s favorite pastime besides Quidditch. Riling up Severus Snape, the aged professor mused.

-- (Meanwhile) --

A scared looking Hermione walked alongside an, as always, stern looking Professor McGonagall. Oh… she thought I’m going to be expelled. I just know it! They know I’m a telepath. They know that I was talking to Harry just before he attacked Snape. I could feel his rage building, but I didn’t stop him or warn Snape. Why can I feel him? Is it because? No! I don’t fancy him. It’s something stronger. It’s something deeper.

They walked to a set of stone gargoyle’s, which sprang away when McGonagall said the password. As they climbed the stairs, they could hear muffled yelling. McGonagall shook heard and muttered something along the lines of “Like father, like son.”

-- (In Dumbledore’s Office) --

“YOUR FATHER WAS AN IMMATURE, DISOBEDIENT, TROUBLE MAKING PUNK!” Snape yelled, his fury getting the better of him.

“YOU, ON THE OTHER HAND, WERE AND STILL ARE A GREASY HAIRED, DARK ARTS OBSESSED, WORTHLESS, TRAITOROUS, COWARDLY GIT!” Harry retorted.

“DON’T CALL ME A COWARD!” Snape roared.

“O.k. If I can’t call you a COWARD, does that mean I can still call you a WORTHLESS, DARK ARTS OBSESSED, GREASY HAIRED, TRAITOROUS GIT!?!” Harry fired back.

“I AM NOT GREASY HAIRED!” Snape fumed

“EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU IS GREASY! I’M SURPRISED WHEN WE GET OUR POTIONS ESSAYS BACK, WE CAN EVEN READ THEM. YOUR NOSE IS SO CLOSE TO THE PAPER WHILE GRADING THEM, THAT WHEN WE GET IT BACK, THERE SHOULD BE SMUDGES ALL OVER IT!”

At this Dumbledore made several coughing noises. A smile tugged at his lips and he was doing his best not to laugh. He seemed to recall, from years long since past, a certain Mr. Black saying a very similar thing to a certain Potions Master after their Fifth Year Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.’s. Professor McGonagall moved so that she was standing besides Dumbledore.

Into his ear she whispered, with a mixture of humor and questioning “How long have they been at it?”

“Since you left,” He replied. “Look at them. It’s as if Harry is his father and it’s like Severus is fifteen years old again.”

McGonagall nodded and sighed. “If there were two people who had hated each other with a blazing passion, it was James Potter and Snively (er…I mean Severus) Snape.”

Snape was now shaking with anger; his right eye was twitching as he said, “Headmaster, contact Azkaban and see if Black died in the last few hours because Potter is sure as hell channeling his bloody spirit.” It appeared that Snape had also been thinking about that particular memory. He then started muttering about Potter’s and their ability to destroy “good” Slytherin’s.

Upon hearing these words, Harry put his right arm across his stomach and performed a deep, graceful bow. “All in a days work. I mean really! Think of what life would be like if Potter’s did not go to extreme lengths to annoy Snape’s. I shudder to think of such a world. Besides you’ve had eleven years off. I’m just trying to make up for lost time.” He replied with a smirk, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh and by the way. I take that whole Potter Ability thing as a complement.”

“You would.” sneered Snape.

“Gentlemen…” Dumbledore started but neither seemed to have heard him.

“Why don’t you go play with your potions set?” snarled Harry.

“Keep your mouth shut or I’ll lock you in a cupboard.” Snape fired back with an evil smirk.

Harry instantly froze. He paled to the point where it looked like he had seen a ghost. [Well not a ghost since he sees them all the time now but you get the point.]

In a shaky and deathly quiet voice, “That was below the belt, even for you, Snivellus. Then again, I should have expected it coming from a Death Eater.” He said with a sneer.

The other occupants in the room were confused. Why would saying that shake Harry up that badly? The others couldn’t understand how that could be insulting. Except for Hermione, she was shaking as well, but not with fear like Harry, no she was shaking with anger. You see Hermione’s [for lack of a better word] ‘bond’ with Harry not only allowed her to feel his emotions and hear his thoughts, but also allowed her brief bits of memory during extremely stressful or tense situations. And everything that involved Harry and a cupboard was anything but pleasant. In complete disregards to authority figures, and in a very un-Hermionish way, Hermione had her wand out and jabbed into the hollow point of Snape’s neck all the while emanating a sickly green, pulsating glow, shocking everyone in the process. [I know I’m going to get crap about how an eleven-year-old Hermione wouldn’t cast an Unforgivable, but the thing is she is not; I repeat NOT preparing to cast the Killing Curse. All I’m saying is that the tip of her wand is glowing green.]

”Miss Granger!” Professor McGonagall shrieked after finding her voice. “Put your wand down at this moment!”

Snape however cried out “You see Headmaster! Potter is setting an example that it is all right to attack teachers! They both should be expelled on the spot!”

Harry, having regained his composure, retorted, “Go ahead! Expel me! But be warned I won’t go down quietly. First, I’ll get you removed from this school on unauthorized mind probing. You see Snivellus; it appears that the practice of Legilimency is illegal during peace times unless given approval of the Ministry. Next, I’ll sue your arse for mind probing me without permission. And as for school…well I hear Durmstrung has a pretty wicked DADA course.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Dumbledore said calmly, but quickly. “Now, I believe there was a reason we had Miss Gran- ah Hermione come, so let’s get to it.”

Harry turned to face Hermione, who was stowing her hand away in her back pocket, registering her presence for the first time since she entered the office. What was he going to tell her? He obviously couldn’t just say ‘Hey Hermione guess what? I’m your brother! Dumbledore separated us at birth and I just found out today. Oh, and by the way there was also a prophecy that was made before we were born that said you and I will have to kill Voldemort because no one else can, and until then he’ll hunt us down, never letting us have a moments peace.’ Now could he?

Fortunately for him, Dumbledore decided to tell her. “Hermione, Harry has recently found out something that I should have told him, and those directly effected by it, upon his re-entering the magical world.”

“And what is that?” Hermione asked hesitantly.

With one final glance at Harry, who gave a nod urging him to continue, Dumbledore began. “Petunia Dursley isn’t Harry’s only remaining blood relative. He has a sibling, a twin sister.”

Hermione stared dumbstruck, Harry had a sister! A twin no less!

“She survived the Killing Curse that night as well due to an ancient form of blood magic. Although unlike Harry’s, her scar is hidden well above her hairline.”

A second survivor of the Killing Curse! She thought. A Girl-Who-Lived! That means the history books have a huge historical error. This had to be the biggest cover-up in history, but something puzzled her. They would obviously want to keep that a secret, for the girl’s safety so…

“Professor, why tell me this?” she questioned. “I’d think you would like this to remain a secret. Having me know only makes me a threat to the plan.”

“Because Hermione,” Harry said, speaking to her for the first time. ”You’re my sister. You are the Girl-Who-Lived.”

Hermione stared dumbstruck. It was a joke, she surmised, and it just had to be. Any second someone was going to yell out, ‘April fools!’ or ‘Ha-ha! You should have seen the look on your face! It was priceless.’ but no one did.

“No! There must be a mistake! I’m not the Girl-Who-Lived! I’m Hermione…just Hermione.” She said, starting to panic.

Harry chuckled and said “You know what? Denying the truth must run in the family because I said the same thing to Hagrid when he first told me who I was.”

“NO! NO! I’m Hermione Jane Granger, daughter of Robert and Jane Granger,” shaking her head in full denial mode. [I don’t know what their real names are so this is what I’m saying they are.]

Dumbledore gave her a sad smile before saying, “Be that as it may, you were born Hermione Jane Potter, daughter of Lily and James Potter, sister to Harry James Potter.”

“Let me talk to her in private for a bit, Headmaster.” Harry insisted.

“Okay, Harry.” He replied as he started constructing a small privacy dome.

“Thanks.” Harry mouthed once the dome was complete.

Harry turned his attention to Hermione, who was on the ground shaking her head; tears running down her face, and knelt at her side patting her on the back. Harry, having grown up in a very hostile environment, was surprised when Hermione threw her arms around him and cried on his shoulder muttering “Everything I’ve ever been told has been a lie. Those people…they raised me but never once told me I was adopted. That they weren’t my parents.”

“Hermione…from what you told me your par-…Robert and Jane, they have loved you like you were their own. They have raised you to be the smart, pretty girl you are and the beautiful, intelligent women you’ll undoubtedly become. They have praised your triumphs and coached you through your mistakes. They’ve encouraged you to make friends and comforted you when you were lonely. If that isn’t what being a parent is all about, then I’ll exile myself from the Wizarding world; and considering what I have to go back to in the Muggle world, I pray to the gods that I’m right.”

Hermione looked at Harry, her face tear stained. ”You’re right.” She said. “They are my parents in everyway that matters.”

Harry nodded, and then smiled “Cheer up.” He said. “You’ve told me you always wanted a sibling, now you do have one. A twin no less.”

A wide grin spread across Hermione’s face as she wiped the tears away. “You’re right!” she said, throwing her arms around Harry a hug “I have a little brother.”

Harry returned the embrace but raised his eyebrows ‘Little’ brother he questioned. “Not only am I two inches taller than you, but I do believe I was born before you.”

“What makes you say that?” Hermione questioned, standing up and putting her hands on her hips.

Harry stood up too. “Well, Dumbledore said that the Healer, who spilled the beans, never knew you were born, thus that must mean he was there when I was born but left before you were.”

They were interrupted from further argument when Dumbledore signaled that he would like to talk to them. The siblings stepped out of the privacy dome.

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he saw the smile on their faces. “I take it you have come to terms with whom you are.” When they nodded he continued “Good, good. Now since you two are magical twins you’ll have special powers…”

“Like telepathy?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, but all twins (magical or not) have a sort of telepathy in some way, shape, or form. No what I’m saying that you two will probably have other powers. You two are the first opposite sex magical twins born in over one thousand years. Those two were also two of the most powerful people the world had seen since Merlin. They were…”

“Godric Gryffindor,” Harry began.

“And Rowena Ravenclaw,” Hermione finished.

Dumbledore stared in shock.

“Come on,” Harry stated as if it were common knowledge “It says so in Hogwarts: A History, under the Founders section.”

“You’ve already read it?” inquired Professor McGonagall.

“Please,” Hermione waved it off “between me and Harry, we must have read it five times already.”

“Anyway,” Dumbledore continued, his eyes twinkling like mad. “I would like you two to spend the next week or so seeing what powers you might have. Then get back to us.”

Harry and Hermione nodded. Hermione turned to leave but stopped when she noticed that Harry hadn’t moved.

Go own, he said through their link, I’ve just got to ask the Headmaster something in private. Hermione nodded and continued out the door shutting it behind her. Once Harry made sure she wouldn’t hear anything through their link, he turned to the professor’s.

“Headmaster, I don’t think we should tell Hermione about the Prophecy yet.”

Dumbledore stared at Harry, his eyebrows raised. “Oh?” he said. “Why not?”

“She is young, innocent. She doesn’t need that kind of a burden. Not yet.”

“Oh? And you’re not young or innocent?” Dumbledore asked.

“I lost my ‘innocence’ a long time ago.” Harry said with a far away look, his brilliant emerald eyes seemed to dull slightly. Behind him Snape shifted uneasily and looked guilty. Dumbledore frowned, but didn’t press the matter.

In stead he asked, “When do you propose we tell her?”

“Sixteen.” Harry stated without hesitation, “or whenever Voldemort returns, but no later than sixteen.”

“I feel that you show wise judgment in the matter Harry. So be it. I will not tell her until she turns sixteen unless Tom returns.”

“Tom sir,” Harry questioned.

“Yes, Harry.” Dumbledore confirmed. “For you see, Lord Voldemort was born Tom Riddle. In fact Tom Marvolo Riddle is an anagram for ‘I am Lord Voldemort’. Funny thing is Tom is a muggleborn, a half-blood like your self, Hermione, and Professor Snape here.”

“A muggleborn bent on killing muggleborn’s? That some twisted logic.” Harry muttered. Then something hit him and he turned towards Snape “Wait a second! A half-blood is Head of a House that hates muggles and muggleborn’s.”

Snape just glared at Harry but said nothing.

“Go on now Harry. The day is still young. Go spend it with your friends.” said Dumbledore, eyes once again twinkling.

“I will. Have a good day Headmaster. Professor’s.” Harry said with a little bow, and with that turned and left the office, not realizing that it wouldn’t be the last time he was there. Nor would most of those times be for pleasant events.