19 September 1999

"Hermione? Are you okay?"

A vigorous head shake was the only response Molly Weasley's question received.

The brunette witch's eyes widened as what had started as a mild tingling sensation around her mouth was quickly morphing into a severe itch.

Molly quickly stood up. "Oh dear, let's get you to St. Mungo's."

By the time the Weasley matriarch reached Hermione, large red hives were spreading down the younger witch's neck.

"Everyone else, stay here and enjoy the party, Hermione and I will be back later."

Molly quickly lead Hermione inside of the Burrow, but before they even took a few steps, Harry's voice rang out.

"Molly, you stay here. Let me take Hermione."

"Nonsense, Harry, you stay."

Molly didn't wait around any longer, she spirited Hermione into her home. As they walked, Molly looked at her adoptive daughter out of the corner of her eye. "Are you having any problems breathing?"

Another negative response.

"Good." Molly breathed a sigh of relief. "If you start to, tell me immediately."

Hermione nodded her head in understanding.

Molly sent them both through the floo network and into the main lobby of St. Mungo's Hospital.

Less than thirty minutes later, the partygoers looked up surprised as Hermione and Molly joined them again.

Ginny asked one of the questions on everyone's mind, "You're back already?"

Hermione just looked as surprised as everyone else. "Yes. They hurried me through to one of the emergency rooms since I was having an allergic reaction and they were worried about me suddenly having problems breathing. The weird thing is that by the time the healer stepped in to see me," she looked at Molly, "what not even ten minutes after we got there?"

"It was barely five minutes after we got there."

"Yes, that's probably more accurate." She turned back to everyone else. "By the time the healer was there, most of my symptoms were gone. And with the exception of a couple canker sores, all of my symptoms were gone before we left the exam room to come back here."

"Do they know what caused your symptoms?"

Hermione shook her head at Ginny's question. "No, they don't."

"And that's what bothers me." Molly frowned. "What if it happens again and you're by yourself?"

"Mum, Hermione can Apparate—"

"And what if she's in a Muggle area?"

Hermione smiled at the older witch. "Molly, if it happens again, I'll deal with at that time. In the meantime, I have an appointment to see an allergy healer on Friday."

"And before then, you might want to eat your birthday tart before Ronniekins decides you've taken long enough to get back to it and eat it."

"Oi!" Ron pulled his hand back from where it had been about to snag the lemon tart Molly had made Hermione for her birthday. He glared at George.

Hermione laughed at her friend, but quickly took her seat, reaching for her spoon.

"Hermione, don't eat another bite of that."

She frowned. "Why would I do that, Luna? Molly made this for me?"

"Come with me and I'll explain." The blonde witch stood up from the table and made her way towards the Burrow. When Hermione made no move to follow her, she turned back around. "Do you want to know what is going on with you or are you okay with not knowing the cause of the strange incidences happening to you?"

"How?"

Luna sighed. "Hurry up then. And Ron, you can have the rest of Hermione's dessert, she won't be eating it."

As Hermione stood up and followed Luna into the Burrow, both witches heard the confusion of their friends behind them.

Once they were in the quite of the Burrow, Hermione turned to Luna. "I have to agree with everyone. What's going on? And how do you know I've had other strange occurrences like this?"

Sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, Luna gazed at her, a serious look on her normally dreamy face. "You're allergic to lemons."

Hermione's eyes widened. "I've never had a problem with lemons in any form before. Where in the world did you get that idea?"

"What about the night at Angelina's hen party a month ago?"

"How do you know what happened, you weren't there, were you?"

Luna shook her head. "No, I wasn't, but I heard about what happened with your normal drink of choice."

"I take it Ginny told you that my Limoncello martini didn't agree with me?"

"Well, that's one way to put it."

Hermione shrugged. "I thought it was rancid lemon juice in the drink, but at least I didn't have as severe a reaction as I did tonight."

"Yes, that's definitely a good thing."

"You really think I'm allergic to lemons though?"

Luna sighed. "I really do, Hermione. Hold on a moment." The blonde witch stood up and made her way over to the counter where the extra lemons Molly didn't use were sitting in a bowl. Taking out one of the lemons, she used her wand to peel of a small slice of the zest, and after placing the lemon back in the bowl, she turned around and returned to the table. Resuming her seat, she placed the zest, slice side down, onto Hermione's arm.

It was just a few seconds later, when Hermione hissed and jerked her arm, knocking the lemon peel off her arm. Looking down, both witches saw a large hive blossoming where the peel had once been.

"This reaction can happen to anyone."

Luna nodded. "Well, yes, but not in seconds. Plus, you now have the ability to heal at a rapid pace. Look at what happened earlier."

"That was rather odd."

Luna nodded towards Hermione's arm. "Look."

Hermione looked down and indeed, the hive that had just spread across her forearm was already starting to disappear.

"This doesn't make any sense to me. What's going on, Luna?"

"You're a faerie. Actually, you are part faerie rather than full blooded, I think."

"I'm a what? You must be mistaken! I can't be a..."

Luna raised an eyebrow, cutting Hermione off. "And why not?"

Hermione snorted. "I'm a Muggleborn, remember?"

"You might be Muggleborn by wizarding standards, but that means nothing in regards to the fae world."

"You know quite a bit about the fae, are you part fae?"

Luna shook my head. "No, I'm not."

"Then how do you know that I am part fae?"

"As I said earlier, from the problems you've had come up in the past few weeks. Also, there is something else that I noticed when we were in school--your affinity for magical creatures."

Hermione laughed. "I'm not sure that's how house-elves would look at it."

"At the beginning, no, but once you had the chance to really get to know the elves then you changed how you wanted to help them. You have also had a rather good connection with other magical beings. The centaurs at Hogwarts, even the merpeople there, and let's not forget the werewolves, specifically Remus, to name a few."

"Huh, I never really thought anything about any of that."

Luna reached across the table and grasped Hermione's hand. "I know we haven't always seen eye to eye on things, so if you'd like to talk with someone else, I understand. I want you to know that I recently met the world-renowned magizoologist, Rolf Scamander."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "You've met him?"

Luna nodded. "Yes, I met him earlier this year at a conference and we've kept in touch since then. He's completed quite a bit of study on the fae, so if you would like, I'd be happy to set up a meeting with him for you."

"That would be wonderful, thank you." Hermione barely heard the rest of Luna said as she immediately started thinking about all the questions she would like to ask of the third generation magizoologist.

"You're welcome." She stood up. "Now, let's go back outside."

Luna moving out of her line of sight brought Hermione back to the present. Still smiling at the thought of meeting Rolf Scamander, she followed her friend back out to the party thrown in her honour. 

7 October 1999

A few days after the conversation with Luna, Hermione decided that the least she could do was write Rolf Scamander and ask him a few questions. Although, the furthest thing from her mind was inquiring if she was in fact part fae. She had chided at herself for even contemplating the idea. She was muggleborn for Merlin’s sake. There was no way. When Rolf owled back in agreement to meet, her nerves flared once more.

Rolf was sitting quietly in a booth at the Leaky Cauldron waiting when she arrived. He had been reading The Quibbler upside down. Hermione couldn’t help but think Luna referred her to him for more than one reason.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Scamander,” she greeted as she approached the booth.

He looked up with a smile. “Miss Granger, what a pleasure. Please call me Rolf.”

Hermione took the seat across. “Then I insist you return the favour by calling me Hermione.”

After ordering teas and exchanging pleasantries, Rolf got down to business. “As lovely as it is to hold a conversation with you, Hermione, I do believe you’ve sought me out for more than just tea and banter. What can I assist you with?”

She took a long gulp of her tea, letting the liquid burn down to her belly before answering. “I had a peculiar incident happen a few weeks ago where I ate a lemon tart and had an allergic reaction. Mrs. Weasley took me to St. Mungo’s, but almost as quickly as we arrived, all the itching and swelling stopped, as if nothing happened.”

Hermione then told him about the incident that happened at Angelina’s hen party. She watched him carefully, gauging his reactions, but the only thing Rolf did was order more tea. By the time she finished recapping, he was staring at her with a thoughtful expression on his face.

“I do believe Luna was correct in sending you my way, but I’d like to try something before giving you an answer.” He reached into his robes and pulled out a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans. With quick fingers, he separated all the beans by flavor leaving only two in the box. He offered her the box, “Lemon drop?”

The urge to roll her eyes was immense. Those damn lemon drops never ceased to remind her of Dumbledore. She popped the candy into her mouth, chewing it slowly. The moment the candy burst, the itching sensation started on her tongue and down her throat. She swallowed it and proceeded to chug the remainder of her tea.

While her eyes burned and the itching faded, Rolf pulled out a pocket book of ancient runes and arithmancy. Without asking, he simply handed her a pen, which to her was a muggle one, and turned the book towards her. She quickly began reading and solving the problems that he had left open.

Rolf watched her in fascination. The more she wrote in the book, the giddier he felt. His grandfather would be entirely envious if the woman sitting across from him was in fact part fae. Fae were so rare that most magizoologists believed them to be extinct.

Hermione finished the last of the problems quickly and handed him back the book. As she slid it across the table, the sleeve to her robe rose, revealing the hateful word carved into her forearm. She pulled her arm back, but Rolf caught her by the wrist. She watched an odd smile form on his face leaving her uneasy.

Catching her trepidation, Rolf let go and apologized. “It seems silly that you still hide that scar considering everyone knows how you got it and who gave it to you.”

“Yes well when you have a racial slur cut into your arm, you try not to look at it,” she bit back.

“It’s healed much better than it should have, you know,” he motioned with his head. “Cursed blades like the one Bellatrix had used on you are feared for a reason. The wounds they create are meant to reopen constantly so that the victim never forgets why they were punished. Yours looks like a regular scar. Did you do anything in particular to it?”

The scoff she let out was very unladylike. “I used every means possible in the wizarding and muggle world to get it removed. Unfortunately, this was as good as it got.”

Rolf grinned as she ranted on about muggle doctor’s appointments and oils she used to rid the scar. Oh yes, Hermione Granger was in fact part fae.

“Tell me Hermione, when I handed you this book, how did you know what to do with it?”

The question stumped her. Sitting up straighter and adjusting herself on the seat, she came up with no answer. “I just assumed you wanted me to solve them. Though those were rather easy. What edition is that?”

He handed her the book back with the cover facing her. The blood drained slightly from her face as she read the title. It was a forbidden copy from the Department of Mysteries. She had heard Bill Weasley speak of it to Kinglsey once. Apparently, even the most experienced employees had been unable to solve the first equation, let alone all five.

Rolf took the book back and winked. “A friend let me borrow it. But don’t worry, he won’t know the problems have been solved. However, the most important thing we should discuss right now, Hermione, is your heritage. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it for myself, but you, Hermione Granger, are part fae.”

The stern look on her face should have made him concerned, but Rolf was practically bouncing in his seat.

“Allow me to explain before reaching into your holster and hexing me silly. I can guarantee it’ll be worth the wait. Would you mind coming with me to my grandfather’s house? There’s something I’d like to show you.”

They left the Leaky Cauldron, travelling down side streets and between people. When they finally arrived at one of the last houses in the area, Hermione had a nervous excitement to her. Rolf called out for his grandfather, but received no answer. He led Hermione to a study with more books than she could possibly ever fathom reading. She took a seat on the couch while he looked for a tome that hadn’t seen the light of day like in decades.

Setting it in front of her, open to the proper page, he began, “Fae are extremely powerful supernatural creatures. They are some of the first beings ever to roam the Earth. They’ve been around longer than wizards and witches. They have the abilities to create illusions, teleport, cause illusions, and produce electrokenesis. They’re majestic and seductive, beautiful, and smart. They are also extremely rare.”

“Why rare?” Hermione asked, keeping her eyes on the tome, reading all the information as quickly as possible yet still paying attention to Rolf.

“Well because they are so powerful, wizards and witches have tried to take and manifest their powers for their own personal gain. It is said that the fae all disappeared to one of their alternate dimensions to hide and protect themselves. They live so happily that none ever venture into our world. So rarely they do that the fact that you’re half fae is incredible. To think that one of them explored our world and then decided to procreate with a muggle or magical folk is unbelievable.” Rolf was so excited, he couldn’t articulate everything he wanted to say coherently.

“That’s all rather interesting and exciting, but how do you know I’m even fae? I could have easily just developed an allergy to lemons. It’s not quite so serious,” Hermione said trying to downplay  the drama.

Rolf pointed to a section in the tome where the criteria for Fae were listed. “You’re almost of age, you can solve complex problems, you’ve developed slight telepathy, you can Apparate better than even the most experienced witch or wizard, and you’re affliction for lemons is rather new. You can heal at an accelerated rate and you might soon be able to  create  illusions.”

Never one to accept things for what they were, Hermione challenged him for well over an hour on every aspect and criteria. Rolf wasn’t one to lose his temper, but the frustration on his face was visible.

“Hold out your hands and think of a warm orb,” he pleaded. “This is the only way I can get you to believe. Hold out your hands.”

With a defeated sigh, she complied.

“Now, channel your energy towards your fingers and palms. Think of how the sun feels on your skin. Take deep breaths. Focus on your centre and aura.”

She closed her eyes and followed his voice. The soothing commands went from feeling agitated to tranquil. A tickling sensation began to travel from her shoulders and feet towards her hands. It was like holding the hot tea she had be drinking earlier again.

“Open your eyes but relax,” Rolf said.

Hermione slowly opened her eyes, only to shut them rapidly. She tried again but with more preparation. Sure enough, a glowing orb was in her hands. She could hardly believe it was real. She looked up at Rolf and saw him grinning at her hands.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. When she spoke, her voice was faint, “I really am part fae.”

“You really are Hermione Granger. You really are,” Rolf repeated.

She pulled her hands apart losing the orb. Had she not already been seated, she was sure she would have fainted. Part fae. What does that even mean? What was she to do next? She hadn’t realized she’d voiced her concerns out loud.

A whooping laugh started her and Rolf. Standing in the doorway was Newt Scamander himself. He had a similar look on his face to the one of his grandson.

“A fae in my own home. I’ll be damned.” He hobbled over and took a seat next to Hermione and simply stared at her face with kind eyes.

Hermione smiled at him, feeling an ease she hadn’t felt in a long time. “Would you by any chance be a fae, Mr. Scamander?” she teased.

His laugh came out in coughs again as he shook his head. “No, my dear, but I know someone who can help with the answers you seek.”

Both Hermione and Rolf asked who.

With a shit eating grin, he proudly said, “Amos Diggory.”

11 October 1999

Hermione shifted her handbag on her shoulder as she stood at the desk of the administrative assistant in the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures department at the Ministry of Magic. Zairyannah Bennington, as per the nameplate on the counter, was flipping through her boss, Amos Diggory's calendar.

"Unfortunately, Miss Granger, Mister Diggory will be in Switzerland until-" she flipped another page in the dayminder, "Thursday."

Hermione released a pent up breath. "Will he be returning to the office Friday?"

"Likely," Ms. Bennington said. "I can pencil in a tentative meeting with him, if you like."

Hermione took a moment, looking over her own schedule. "I have some time free at about three that day, if he is available?"

"He seems to be." Ms. Bennington picked up a quill with a gilt edged tag and looked up at her. "And may I ask what the nature of the meeting is, just so Mr. Diggory may prepare ahead?"

Hermione reached into her handbag and pulled out a piece of sealed parchment. She examined it before handing it to the administrative assistant. "I have a referral from Rolf and Newt Scamander regarding some research I am doing."

"Very well," Ms. Bennington made a note in the calendar, the self-inking quill leaving a faint trail of precise printing.

Hermione glanced curiously at the notation, fascinated by the ink. "Pardon me, but is that the new erasable ink?"

"It's similar. This ink does become permanent if unaltered within a week."

Hermione made a note to look into the new ink type the next time she bought stationery supplies. Thanking Zairyannah Bennington for her time, she left the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

As she walked along the corridors to the lift, she sighed finally allowing the disappointment she felt to have some release. She had hoped that she could meet with Mr. Diggory sooner. However, it was impossible for her to take any sort of leave of absence from work--she hadn't even been with Flourish and Blotts for six full months yet! And she couldn't expect Mr. Diggory to forget his obligations as both the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and the chair of the International Organising Committee for the International Magizooilogical Society's Annual Symposium and Conference.

After leaving the Ministry, Hermione checked her watch. Half two. It was too early to drop in on any of her friends, and she had finished her shift at work over an hour ago. Hermione considered her options as she walked along Diagon Alley.

On one hand, she mused, it was terribly difficult to be patient, having so many burning questions about how this fae business affected her Being Status. And of course, since she had been unable to find anything written on the fae that was not a fairytale or folk legend, she hoped that Mr. Diggory would have at least a few recommendations for resources she could access to learn about this new facet of herself.

On the other hand, she still remembered how Diggory had treated Winky, the Crouch family's house-elf. She had no way to know if the man's rough treatment of the little elf was the result of the stress of the Death Eater attack and the shock of seeing the Dark Mark for the first time in thirteen years. For all she knew, he could share the disdain she'd noticed among so many wizards for creatures many considered servants.

Then again, she had seen first-hand how devastated Mr. Diggory was when Harry brought Cedric's body back from the graveyard during the Tri-Wizard Cup. The wizard had been inconsolable.

Her thoughts then turned to Cedric Diggory. He was never far from her thoughts during the war. He and so many others who lost their lives to fighting Voldemort and his Death Eaters, were her motivation during battle. The list of the fallen became her mantra during her nights on watch duty when she, Harry, and Ron were on the run. It reminded her, in a way, of saying the bedtime prayer her grandparents taught her when she was small.

She shivered, abandoning her gloomy train of thought. Looking around, she spied a small café, The Terrace Tearoom. A few minutes later, Hermione was seated at a small table and waiting for her tea to arrive.

Ignoring the airy murals of terraced gardens and the miniature garden beds among the seating arrangements, she reached in her handbag and pulled out a journal and self-inking quill. She opened the slim volume to the most recent page before flipping back a few pages. Her server came and went, leaving a pot of cinnamon vanilla black tea, while Hermione was flipping pages and checking dates.

Blast, she thought. The dreams began before my birthday.

Flipping to the last handwritten page, Hermione uncapped her quill and collected her thoughts.

"Hermione, hi!"

Startled, the brunette witch looked up to see Ginny and Luna walking toward her table. She quickly capped her quill and placed it and her journal back in her handbag. When she looked up from her task, the others had already reached her side and were pulling chairs out to sit down. She waited a moment for them to settle in before asking, "What are you two doing here?"

"Well, we just called round Flourish and Blotts to see if you were still working when we saw you walking into the Terrace Tearoom," Luna explained.

"No practice today, Gin?"

The redhead shook her head. "The first practice after a match is usually an hour of drills and a couple hours reviewing plays and fouls from the game. We finished up before lunch."

Hermione shifted her gaze. "And you, Luna? Helping with The Quibbler usually keeps you pretty busy."

"We just finished typesetting the new edition on Friday. They'll be going in the post later this week," Luna replied.

"How about you, Hermione?"

"I had the afternoon off, so I thought I would run a couple of errands."

"We haven't seen you much at The Burrow since your birthday. Mum's been going spare. She told me in no uncertain terms to make sure you know to drop in for a cuppa sometime soon." Ginny grinned impishly at her. "If you give it a few more days, I bet she might march into the shop during your shift to make sure you're well."

Hermione and Luna laughed with Ginny until a server brought Luna’s white hot chocolate and Ginny's caramel latte. Reminded of her own pot of tea, Hermione poured a cup and added a lump of sugar. As she stirred her drink, Hermione came to a decision.

"Actually, I haven't been around much because I've been doing some research."

Ginny lowered her cup to the tabletop and quirked an inquisitive brow. "Would this have anything to do with your lemon reaction?"

Hermione nodded then took a fortifying sip of tea. "You know I had an appointment with an allergy healer the following Friday, which confirmed that I am now allergic to lemons."

"Is that normal? Developing an allergy so suddenly to something that never affected you before, I mean."

Hermione looked up from her tea to see the redhead's concerned gaze. "The healer said that it's been known to happen due to changes in environment, or place of residence, or even just time. However that is not the case for me . . ."

"You know you can tell me, and if you need it to be kept secret, I will," Ginny said, sensing Hermione's hesitation. She reached across the table to clasp Hermione’s hand in hers. "And I'm sure Luna would say the same."

Hermione nodded. "Of course I do. I'm still coming to terms with it is all. You see, Luna mentioned on my birthday that I might be part fae." Hermione continued before Ginny could interrupt. "And knowing how sceptical I can be, she put me in contact with someone who specialises in Magizoology.

"So, a few days ago, I finally got to meet with Rolf Scamander." Hermione turned to Luna, "Thanks for that, by the way. He and his grandfather were both quite interesting. And the tests to determine if one is fae were kind of unusual, but according to them I passed them all pretty easily."

"You met Newt? How lovely," Luna murmured. "Now, Hermione, why don't you tell us what was weighing on your mind earlier, before we interrupted your thoughts?"

Hermione frowned and took a sip of her tea. "Well, I stopped by the Ministry today to arrange a meeting with Amos Diggory. He's out of the country and office until Friday. The Scamanders recommended I see him for some clarification about things . . ."

"That must be disappointing," Ginny said.

"Yes and no. I was disappointed at first, but now I am glad to have a chance to regroup a bit."

"What's happened?" Luna asked.

"I started paying attention to my dreams," Hermione said before sipping her tea. "Someone has been showing up rather more frequently than he should, and in situations that hardly make any sense."

"Who is he?" Ginny pushed her latte aside and leaned forward, curious.

"Cedric Diggory."

"Why him, do you think?" Ginny asked before raising her cup to her lips.

"He is Hermione’s mate," Luna stated, her tone matter of fact.

Ginny started sputtering and Hermione was staring, eyes wide as saucers.

"What's the matter?" Luna asked

"How can he be when he's been dead for four years?" Ginny and Hermione asked at the same time.

Luna simply said, "It seems logical. Upon coming of age, fae are drawn to their mate. What sorts of situations have you been dreaming of Cedric in?"

"The first time we met, outside the Hospital Wing after a Gryffindor-Hufflepuff quidditch match. Oh, and the time we caught the portkey to the Quidditch World Cup." Hermione paused to look Luna in the eye… "Those ones are memories obviously.

"The dreams veered off of memory lane sometime between the hen party and my birthday. Now they've become dreams where we spend an afternoon at my flat, or in Hogsmeade. Sometimes we are shopping, or reading together." Choosing to not tell her friends about some of her more intimate dreams starring Cedric, Hermione changed the subject slightly. "I still don't understand why you think someone who is dead would be my mate."

"I don't know, Hermione," Ginny interjected. "If you look at the old legends, death and time seem to mean something different to the fae than they do to us."

"Besides, Father and I have long thought the Diggory family to be connected to the fae," Luna added.

"Wait, what?!"

15 October 1999

Hermione jolted awake.

As she sat up, she looked around herself trying to get her bearings. Once she realised she was not actually hidden amongst tombstones, she relaxed back onto her bed. Hermione could vividly recall every moment of the short dream. She found herself walking through a quiet, foggy graveyard when the sound of something crashing to the ground broke the silence. She hid behind a tombstone and watched Harry and Cedric magically appear with the Triwizard Cup between them. Moments later she heard a phrase that would be ingrained in her subconscious for the rest of her life, 'Kill the spare.' A flash of green light followed and she was thrown back into her bedroom.

She rolled over and looked at the blue numbers that hovered just above her bedside table.

4:21

Hermione groaned. She still had an hour before her alarm was set to go off; she flipped her pillow over and as she lay her head back down, she hoped to go back to sleep. The subject of the dream surprised her since she had never been to the graveyard and Harry had only given a vague description of what happened the night Cedric died. Not that she blamed him for not talking about it.

She sighed, even though it was still quite early, Hermione knew that there was no way she would be able to sleep anymore so she sat up to prepare for her day.

Hours later, Hermione stepped off one of the Ministry lifts onto level four. She quickly made her way through the corridor to the office of Amos Diggory.

Ms Zairyannah Bennington greeted her as she entered, 'Good afternoon, Miss Granger. You may go on in, Mister Diggory is ready for you.'

'Thank you, Ms Bennington.'

The brunette witch crossed to the partially opened door and after she opened it, she entered. As she closed the door behind her, she spoke up, 'Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Mister Diggory.'

As the once jovial wizard looked up, Hermione was surprised by the stern look she received. She was further shocked by his sunken eyes and waxy appearance rather than the ruddy complexion she remembered. Hermione quickly realised that losing your child in a war to a monster like Voldemort would haunt any one.

He set down the quill he had been writing with and gestured to the chair before his desk. 'I have only agreed to this meeting because of your reference from Mr Scamander.'

Hermione sat gingerly in the hard, wooden chair offered to her. 'Thank you nonetheless, Mr Diggory. I have a few questions that I need clarification on that unfortunately neither Mister Scamander were able to answer.'

Amos Diggory sat back in his chair. 'Proceed.'

Hermione shifted, a little put off by the less than warm reception she was receiving, but she ploughed on. 'My questions are in regards people of fae descent. I—'

He held up his hand. 'I'm sure both Newt and Rolf Scamander could have sufficiently answered any question you may have.'

'I, well… Yes, they answered my questions in regards to determining if someone is of fae descent, but unfortunately neither one can answer what happens next since neither one is fae.'

Amos's hand settled back down into his lap as he regarded Hermione with a thoughtful look. After many quiet and strained moments, his eyes brightened and he muttered silencing and locking spells under his breath before he turned his attention to her again. 'You're part fae.'

Hermione's eyes widened, surprised that he reached that conclusion so quickly. 'How did you figure it out?'

He chuckled. 'While your reputation for research and knowledge proceed you, Miss Granger, the topic of fae do not come up very often from wizards and witches that are either not fae or do not study magical beings and creatures. Now, unless you've taken a sudden liking to magizoology or want to join my department, then you, Miss Granger, are part fae.'

Hermione sat there for a few moments trying to decide whether it was safe to confirm his hypothesis or if she should just deny him, claiming research.

'Miss Granger, if you are worried about me running to the authorities to turn you over, why would I when I am part fae myself?'

Her eyes widened, to have Luna and her father's assumptions confirmed made this a little easier. She gave a slight nod. 'I had no idea, Mr Diggory, but yes, I am part fae. It was brought to light when I started to develop a reaction to lemons. We have also discovered that I can heal at an accelerated rate, I can produce orbs of energy and light, and my ability to solve complex problems has increased to where I have solved unsolvable problems.'

Amos sat forward. 'Don't be surprised if you develop additional talents as your fae heritage becomes more prominent.'

Hermione nodded. 'What comes next?'

'Well, like I said, you may have additional talents manifest, but the biggest thing is figuring out who your mate is going to be.'

Hermione's eyes widened. 'My mate?'

Amos Diggory raised an eyebrow. 'You didn't think fae, even people who are part fae, live their lives alone did you? How else would the fae have existed for so long?'

Hermione shook her head. 'No, I never thought that, Mr Diggory, I just didn't realise that fae have mates.'

'You mean like werewolves and veela?'

'Yes.'

'Ah, yes, we do. Although, how a fae finds their mate is quite a bit different from how either weres or veela find their mates.'

'How so?'

Instead of answering her question, he replied with one of his own, 'Have you been having any dreams lately featuring someone unexpected?'

Hermione's mouth went dry when she realised the implication of Mr Diggory's words. She stared off into space, the different memories and dreams playing out before her eyes. After a particularly naughty dream she remembered, she blushed and pulled herself back to the present. When she saw the wizard sitting directly across the desk from her, her blush deepened. Apparently, her mate is the son of the wizard sitting across from her.

A small grin spread across his lips. 'I'll take that reaction as a yes.'

A silent nod was her response.

'Do you know who your mate is or is it someone unknown to you?'

'I know who he is, but uh…' She trailed off.

Amos huffed. 'Come now, Miss Granger, he can't be that bad.'

'It's not that, Mr Diggory, it's that he's dead.'

Brown eyebrows shot towards a slowly receding hairline. 'Who is it?'

Hermione swallowed hard, not sure how the wizard before her was going to take the news. 'Cedric.'

Previously raised eyebrows quickly fell as a frown marred his features. 'Cedric? My son Cedric?'

'Yes, sir.' She took a deep breath and looked down. 'Does this mean that I will live my life without my mate since he's already passed on?"

Silence greeted her question and when she looked up, she watched as Amos Diggory's expression morphed from a frown to a wizard who looked like he'd received the best present someone could ask for.

'Mr Diggory?'

He shook his head, but the gleam in his eyes remained. 'No, Miss Granger, you will not have to live your life without your mate.'

'But how? Cedric is gone and it's not like I can bring him back from the grave.' She shuddered. 'Or rather, I don't think I could live with myself if that were the case.'

Amos laughed. 'No, Miss Granger, you will not have to bring my son back from the grave, but rather you'll be bringing him to the future.'

Her brows furrowed. 'What do you mean?'

'What I mean, Miss Granger, is that we are going to save my son.'

The furrow deepened. 'How?'

'I'll explain more when I see you again on Nos Galan Gaeaf*, or Halloween night, but for now, leave the details to me. All you need to know is that you will be going back in time to just before Cedric died and you will save him and bring him back to present day.'

Hermione shook her head confused. 'How in Merlin's shaggy beard am I going to accomplish that when there are no time turners?'

He grinned. 'Time turners are not needed, Miss Granger, when one is of fae heritage. We have ways of traveling through time and space that are currently, and will continue to remain, unknown to those that are not of fae descent.'

Hermione looked lost for a few moments more before her brain finished cataloguing everything that had been said. 'What do I need to do before Halloween?'

'Presently, nothing beyond paying attention to your dreams. They will tell you how you will save Cedric. Anything else that you need to know before then, I will contact you about.'

Hermione sighed, still somewhat overwhelmed by everything that was happening.

'Miss Granger, I know you're confused and still trying to sort through everything, but know that you can come to me for anything.'

'Thank you, Mr Diggory.'

'Please call me Amos, after all, you're practically family.'

She blinked slowly and realised that if she was to succeed in saving Cedric then the wizard sitting across from her would be her father-in-law. 'Thank you, Amos, and please call me Hermione.'

'Is there anything else I can help you with today, Hermione?'

She shook her head. 'No, thank you.'

'As I said, if you need anything let me know and I will keep in touch with you over the next fifteen days.' He stood up, preparing to end their meeting when something occurred to him. 'I assume you have told people beyond Mr Scamander and his grandson your assumptions?'

Hermione nodded. 'Only two other people know, Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood.'

'You will want to keep those that know to a small number, the more people that know, the more likely it is that it will get out and until you are bonded it will be very easy for someone to take advantage of you, especially someone that knows how to do so.'

'Other than Harry and Ron, and my parents, I have no one else that would need to know.'

'With your parents being Muggles it will not be as big of a deal for them to know, but as I said, the less the better. If you must tell your other friends, I would wait as long as possible to tell them. The closer to Nos Galan Gaeaf the better.'

'I will wait, Mr, I mean Amos and I'll ask Ginny and Luna to remain quiet too.' She stood up, gathering her beaded purse she had hung from the armrest of the chair when she sat down. 'Thank you so much for your help.'

Amos walked around to the front of his desk. 'You are the first known fae outside of my own family and helping you is the least I can do for the witch who helped save our world.'

Hermione blushed. 'Thanks.'

Amos led her to his office door, before he opened it he spoke again. 'I will keep in contact with you over the next couple of weeks and remember to pay attention to your dreams.'

'I will. Have a great weekend, Amos.'

He cancelled the silencing and locking spells. 'You as well, Hermione.'

Amos Diggory watched as the witch that would be returning his son to him left his office. Once she disappeared, he returned to his desk and penned an encrypted letter to his wife, telling her the exciting news. He was a little put out by her reply telling him that Hermione was not a means to an end like she knew what he was thinking, but he quickly realised that his wife was right. Yes, Hermione would be helping to save his son, but she would not be bringing him back for Amos and his wife, but rather for herself.