The Missing Link

Meeting the Queen

Hermione expected the usual Floo effect, twirling and tumbling through emerald space, seeing different fireplaces before finally landing in the fireplace of their destination. But this time, she took only two steps forward and then was greeted by a cool breeze. She opened her eyes and she was in the castle.

This place felt familiar to her, but not in a good way. She clutched her arm as the scar on her arm tingled. A couple of elfmaids bowed low in front of her.

“Lady Hermione,” one of them said. “Follow us please.”

The elfmaids turned around and began walking as Hermione followed. Hermione observed that the castle seemed different and yet the same. The eerie darkness was gone, replaced by elegant dim lighting. It seemed larger too. As they went through the various hallways, she can’t help but admire what the castle was now.

The elfmaids led her into a parlor and sat her at one end of a long table. A few minutes later, another elfmaid entered and served her tea and biscuits. She was about to pour her own cup when one of the elfmaids did it for her.

“The Queen will be here in a short while, Lady Hermione,” the elfmaid said, not looking in her eye. She bowed low and left.

Hermione tried to be as steady, prim and proper as possible while she ate her biscuits and drank her tea. But the Queen was taking too long and the ornaments in the room were too interesting to resist.

Finally, she stood up as quietly as she could and began admiring various décor.

“Wow,” she breathed as she walked around the room, seeing pictures of the Royal families of both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds.

“Wow,” she breathed again. On the mantelpiece were several badges and trinkets…and a framed photo of the previous king along with her grandfather. She gingerly picked it up.

“Granddad,” she whispered, caressing the smiling face of the old man. Hermione was only about six years old when he dies, but she remembered him clearly. He was very gentle with her, and spoiled her to no end. Every time he came over, he’d bring her a gift, a toy, a book or a sweet. Her mother would chastise him for that.

“She deserves it,” he’d say everytime. “She’s my special little princess.”

Now she knew why.

She put the frame back down and resumed her seat. Her granddad always called her princess, Only now did she realize that it was more than just an endearment. It was her destiny.

Desperate for something else to do, she wiped the corners of her eyes and picked up the teacup. She took one sip—Chamomile; her favorite, she realized—and set it back down on the saucer. Unfortunately, she was unable to do so properly as her hands were shaking and the contents spilled onto her lap, leaving a wet stain on her pants. And in that moment a trumpet, sounded somewhere in the castle.

“Announcing the arrival of Her Royal Highness, Queen Narcissa Black-Malfoy.”

Hermione squirmed in her seat and prayed for ten more seconds before the Queen could arrive. She tucked frantically under her clothes and realized with a groan that she forgot to wear her wand holster.

Soon she heard several footsteps and tried to wipe as much of the tea away as possible. Two elfmaids entered, dressed in elaborate robes (which made Hermione feel relieved), soon followed by Queen Narcissa Black-Malfoy of the Wizard Monarchy. She’d read books about her that described her beauty, but none came close to real life. She had a good disguise as a Death Eater. She wore robes of gold and black silk, embroidered with the Black coat of arms. Her skin was as perfect as the silk, her blonde hair tied up in the most beautiful bun possible. She seemed to glide with every step. However, there was a bit of darkness under her eyes, a sign of worry over her husband’s condition. Her lips were a tight line with a hint of quivering, probably her constant fight for control.