Ok, so for my usual pace it's been a long while since I updated but it was for a very, very, very good reason!

This chapter is dedicated to the brilliantly talented Miss Lissy Lou for a reason that will become obvious Lissy you are a star!


Six: Seal

Hermia stood in the splendid marble entrance hall of Gringotts Bank, steeling herself for a familiar argument. She walked up to the desk and saw Vatnok, one of the senior goblins, writing in a large ledger. He looked up at her, his lips slowly pulling back into an unpleasant leer. Hermia got the impression that he was going to enjoy taunting her. She put her shopping bags on floor and slipped off her opaleye hide gloves off.

“Good morning my dear Miss Smith. How can I help you?” His tone was mocking, he knew as well as she did how their conversations always went. It was like a script now, a duologue that they were locked into.

“Good Morning, Vatnok. I want to see the summary for my account please.” She kept her voice level but cold. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that she was already annoyed.

“But of course.” He climbed off his chair and disappeared from view. Hermia glanced around the entrance hall, noticing familiar faces here and there, either going into or coming out of the doors that led to the vaults.

Vatnok returned. “Here we are.” He deposited her own account ledger on to the desk and turned it so that she could see the columns of figures. She ran her finger down the deposits column. There, amongst the ministry salary deposits was a deposit for seven hundred and fifty thousand galleons, dated the twenty-ninth of October, her birthday.

“It’s happened again,” She said through gritted teeth, “And there’s twice as much as there was last time.”

“What are you referring to?” The old goblin was clearly taking a great deal of pleasure in her aggravation.

“You know exactly what I’m referring to! Seven hundred and fifty thousand galleons has been deposited into my account and there is no record of where it has come from. Again.” Her voice was a low, dangerous hiss. It had been happening all her life. At three points in the year, a significant amount of gold was transferred into her Gringotts account, no matter which country she was living in. The last four four deposits had been more than significant. Hermia was now extremely wealthy, a fact that she hated as it was not money she had earned. She glowered at the goblin.

“Our other clients would not be so upset to receive such a birthday gift.” The goblin told her blandly.

“Your other clients would probably know who had given them such a gift. I want an answer Vatnok.”

“I am sorry Miss Smith, but I am not at liberty to disclose the identity of your benefactor.”

Hermia’s hand twitched towards her wand pocket, a gesture that was not missed by the goblin.

“I can, however, give you this note.” He said silkily, holding a small sealed rectangle of parchment in his long fingered hand.

Hermia snatched it from him.

“Thank you, now I need someone to take me to my vault.”

“Of course, allow me.” He climbed down from his chair again and Hermia used the time it took him walk around the long desk to look at the seal on the note. Impressed into the wax was a stamp. On an ivy leaf were three letters: MAB.





*****

Ashtad watched as Hermia eat her breakfast quietly. He had been plotting his revenge for a week and now was the time to act. She had shown him up Transfiguration. It was bad enough that she had been put forward a year in Transfiguration and Charms after proving that she was already more than capable of handling the coursework, but now she was openly correcting him in front of the whole class. The fact that she had been right was incidental, it was just bad form to dish out corrections. That’s what the professor was there for! The two of them had spent the previous year sniping at each other; she had never forgiven him for the joke he had played on her first night. They had fallen into a comfortable rhythm of sarcastic remarks and oneupmanship with the occasional practical joke thrown in for good measure.

Ashtad steeled himself. If she caught him... He preferred not to think about what she would do to him if she caught him. He walked towards her. “Oi, Smith. Professor Webb wants to talk to you.”

“He does?” She turned to look at the staff table, where Professor Webb, the Arithmancy professor, was deep in conversation with Professor Longbottom. As she did this, he slipped a small phial out of the sleeve of his robes and tipped a generous amount of the Fever Fudge that he had liquidated into her cup of tea. Holding his wand over it, he caused the tea to stir itself. He put the phial and his wand back into his pocket just as Hermia turned back to him, with a look of suspicion clouding her features.

“Are you sure?” She arched one eyebrow.

He gave her what he hoped was his usual winning smile. “That’s what I was told. I dunno.” He shrugged and walked away swiftly.

Hermia turned back to her breakfast. She took a rather large mouthful of tea as it was going cold. As soon as it hit her taste buds she knew it was a mistake. She felt her temperature begin to shoot up. She pulled at the collar of her robes, feeling extremely restricted. She tried to stand up and get to the hospital wing but that proved to be a mistake. She lost her balance and fell back into the chair, her sudden motion causing the chair to topple over backwards. As if to complete the picture of humiliation, her robes pooled at her waist, leaving her underwear exposed. As she began to loose consciousness she saw Adrasteia Harper laughing and pointing at her gleefully.

*****

Hermia rushed out of Gringotts into a rainy late November morning. She pulled the collar of her cloak up around her neck, silently cursing because she had left her umbrella on the kitchen table. She rushed down the small cobbled street and pushed the door of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

“Alright Midget?” George Weasley’s cheery voice called out to her over the hubbub of happy voices that belonged to his customers. “Did you get everything?”

No-one, not even Jago, could get away with teasing Hermia about her height apart from George. She had given up trying to stop him and just accepted it as his way of being affectionate. By way of a response she held up the bags of shopping that she had collected before her confrontation with Bladvac. She made her way through the crowd to the back room where the defence range was still on display. George joined her at the door.

“Does this stuff still sell?” She asked George as they made their way through the shelves of Decoy Detonators and Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.

“It does,” George replied with a small sigh, “but even if we didn’t shift much, I’d still stock it.”

Hermia nodded. She had a feeling that George would stock the products so that people had the opportunity to protect themselves, in memory of Fred. She followed George up the stairs to the small flat where the shop assistant Clive lived. George collected several bags and grinned at Hermia.

“Y’know, I think that our little Remus is far more of a Marauder than Teddy ever was. The fact that we’ve had to keep all his presents out of the house until right now proves that. Even me and Fred weren’t that bad.” He laughed.

Hermia arched an eyebrow at him, taking an extra bag. “Are you sure? I’ve heard stories about you and Fred. Illicit trips into Hogsmeade and portable swamps? Not to mention that map.”

“Well, you might just have a point there.” George chuckled as he stepped towards the fire, taking a large pinch of Floo Powder. He dropped it into the fire and shouted “Lupin Cottage!”, disappearing in a whirl of green flames.

Hermia put her bags down and took the small square of sealed parchment out of her pocket. She ran her finger over the seal. Now was not the time to open it and she did not want to break the letters. She wondered what the Ivy was supposed to represent. Friendship? Fidelity? Eternity? Ivy represented these things to the celts. Or was it supposed to remind her of the ability of the plant to grow almost anywhere, to wind its around trees and creep up buildings, to always survive and win?

MAB. Well that was easy, she knew who those letters referred to. Morgana. Alberich. Bellona. She knew now where the money was coming from and she felt sick. Her father was still alive and he knew where she was. Would he come and see her? A jolt of anger burst through her, settling in her stomach. She dashed towards the fire and was just about to throw the note into the flames when they turned green again and George’s face appeared with a small pop.

“What in the name of Merlin's best y-fronts are you doing Midget? Amelia’s doing her nut here. Ted and Remus’ll be back soon and she wants everything to be just right.”

Hermia flushed with embarrassment. “Sorry, sorry, I’m coming.”

There was another pop and George was gone. She collected the bags of presents and stepped into the green flames, trying to banish all thoughts of her father from her mind.

~

Jago sat in the parlour of Lupin Cottage, watching the children play musical bumps. He noted that Remus was a terrible cheat and that Hermia was letting him get away with it, most of the time. He watched as Teddy and Ginny passed him, carrying Cosmo and Caitlin up to bed. They had fallen asleep under the kitchen table, after setting up a den in there that only twins were allowed into. That meant that George had basically been held hostage under the table for the best part of the afternoon and force fed large amounts of party food. The game ended and Remus was a rather gallant looser, handing over a prize to the young girl who had won. He was just starting to decide which game they would play next when gave a squeal of surprise and pleasure as Ashtad stepped into the room, holding a birthday gift. Jago watched Hermia’s reaction closely. She froze for a moment, clearly surprised and angry that Ashtad was there and then started to organise the children into a game of pass the parcel. Remus rushed over to Ashtad, giving him a high five and taking the present, ripping the paper off it. He ran over to Jago.

“Look! The complete works of Kennilworthy Whisp!” Jago had never seen anyone, apart from Hermia, look so happy to recive a book. He grinned at Ashtad who was now recieving another high-five from Remus as the young boy rushed to join in the game, his new book tucked under his arm.

“All right mate? You’re popular this afternoon.”

“Not with everyone, did you see the look on her face? I almost didn’t come.” Ashtad sounded dejected at his less than warm welcome from Hermia.

“You’re just lucky the room’s full of people shorter than she is,” Jago said, suppressing a grin. “I take it that you didn’t catch up with her that night?”

“This is the first time I’ve seen her since then. I thought she’d been ill but apparently she’s avoiding me. Has she said anything to you, about what happened?”

“No mate, she hasn’t.” Jago wouldn’t have said anything to Ashtad even if Hermia had told him how she was feeling. He had asked but she had shut down and refused to talk about it. Jago knew better than to push her.

Over the next hour, Jago watched as Hermia steadily ignored Ashtad. There was something else wrong with her though, he could tell. The cheesy false smile that she was wearing for Remus and the other children would drop and he could see a deadness in her eyes that he had not seen a very long time. He was worried but he had no idea what to do to get her to talk to him.

Eventually, adults began arriving to collect the children from the party. When only the family was left and Ashtad was in a deep debate about Quidditch with Remus in the kitchen, Jago forced Hermia, almost at wand point, up to her room. She sat on the bed while he sat in her leather arm chair.

“Well, what is it?” He looked at her expectantly.

She pursed her lips sulkily. “Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?”

He frowned, this was not going to be easy. “Alright, be like that. I’m just worried about out you, that’s all. You can fool everyone else, but no-one else knows you like I do BG.”

Her scowl deepened. “Why is it that you can never use my name? Hermia. It’s not challenging. You’ve always got to find something else to call people. What’s that about? Your way of owning everyone? Is it because you’ve got all that money, you think everyone belongs to you?” Her voice was venomous.

Jago had heard this particular rant before and he knew that it meant she was really hurt by something or someone. He raised one eyebrow. “Oh, okay then Miss Hermia Beatrice Smith...”

“Bellona.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Miss Hermia Bellona Smith. That’s my name.”

Jago sucked in a breath over his teeth, making a small hissing noise. “When did you find that out?”

“When I was nine. I just didn’t want it to be my name.” She was pale, as though her heart had broken and was struggling to pump enough blood to her face. “He’s still alive. Alberich. He’s been putting money into my vault.”

Jago crossed the room in two swift steps and pulled her into his arms. She resisted him at first, trying to push him away from her. Eventually, with a little sob, she collapsed against his chest, tears running down her face. He stroked her hair and rocked her back and forth, attempting to soothe her pain.

“How do you know?”

“The goblin gave me a note. It’s in my cloak.” The words came out in a strangled whisper.

Jago let go of Hermia and went over to her wardrobe. She had hung he cloak on the door to dry out. He found the note in the pocket and looked at the seal.




MAB?

“So you haven’t opened it?”

She shook her head.

“Do you want me to?”

She nodded. He had known her to be lost for words only once before and she had disappeared for six months afterwards. He tapped the seal with his wand and it lifted in one piece. He read the note aloud.

Quote:

Dearest Bellona,

I am not at this moment able to see you in person. I have always been aware of your progress and I am proud that you are a strong, independent spirit like your mother.

Please accept the money I have provided for you. You deserve only the finest things.

Alberich.

Jago wasn’t sure what to say to her. She had turned grey. She stood up and walked out of the room. He threw the letter down on her dressing table and followed her.

When they reached the parlour, Hermia stopped short. Ashtad was sitting on the sofa, with Remus asleep against him.

“I think the excitement got to him.” he whispered with a grin. His expression became one of concern when he saw Hermia’s tears. She gave him a look that was so cold it could have frozen his blood. She swept out off the room.

“What did I do now?” he whispered, looking genuinely perplexed.

Jago shrugged and rushed out of the cottage, but Hermia had gone. He sighed and ran his hand through his dirty blonde hair. He wasn’t sure what to do to try and fix this. He wasn’t sure that anyone could fix this but Hermia herself.

Lissy designed the parchment and the seal. Isn't she brilliant? Don't we all love her?

Thanks go to ginny37 for convincing me to rename the goblin, he almost sounded like a viking!

I've put an album of photos that I have on the profiles I keep for each character. Take a look if you like. I will be updating it soon.

I've got the next chapter more or less done, so you won't have to wait too long for an update