Four Years Later, September 1st
The Great Hall buzzed with excitement as the new first years entered, their faces a mix of nervousness and wonder. Among them walked eleven-year-old Mia Granger-Malfoy, her bushy brown hair, like her mother's, tied back with a green ribbon that matched her father's old house colors. She wore a red hair clip to honor her mother's Gryffindor heritage.
From the staff table, Hermione gripped Draco's hand tightly under the table. Four years of watching other children get sorted hadn't prepared her for seeing her own daughter approach the Sorting Hat.
"She'll be fine," Draco whispered, though his voice held tension. "No matter which house she's in."
Professor McGonagall, in her final year as Headmistress before her retirement, called out clearly, "Granger-Malfoy, Mia!"
The Great Hall fell unusually quiet. Every student knew the story by now: the Mudblood who became a war hero, the Death Eater's son who chose love over legacy, and their daughter, beloved by students and staff during her years living at the castle.
Mia walked confidently to the stool, but Hermione noticed the slight tremor in her hands as McGonagall placed the ancient hat on her head.
The hat seemed to take an eternity to consider. Finally, it spoke, its voice carrying through the silence:
"Difficult, very difficult. I see courage here, yes, like your mother's Gryffindor heart. But there's cunning too, and ambition from your father's Slytherin blood. Loyalty that would make Hufflepuff proud, and a thirst for knowledge that Ravenclaw would cherish..." The hat paused. "But where you belong, where you'll grow into the witch you're meant to be..."
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The Gryffindor table erupted in cheers, and Hermione felt tears streaming down her face as Mia beamed and ran to join her new housemates. Even the Slytherin table applauded politely, a surprising change compared to Hermione and Draco's day.
---
First Year, Transfiguration Class
"Now, who can tell me the fundamental principle of transfiguration?" Professor McGonagall asked the first-year class.
Mia's hand shot up immediately, but she waited to be called upon, a courtesy her mother had taught her.
"Yes, Miss Granger-Malfoy?"
"Transfiguration requires a clear understanding of both the object's current state and its desired form, Professor. The wizard must maintain precise wand movements while holding both forms clearly in their mind."
"Excellent. Five points to Gryffindor. Now, let's see you put theory into practice."
Mia successfully transfigured her match into a needle on her second try, earning approving nods from her classmates. After class, a Slytherin boy named Marcus approached her.
"That was brilliant," he said shyly. "Could you help me with the wand movement? Mine keeps turning into a bent pin."
Mia smiled warmly. "Of course! My dad always says the key is in the wrist flick. Here, let me show you..."
Watching from the doorway, McGonagall smiled. The girl was bridging houses in ways her parents never could have imagined.
---
Second Year, Defense Against the Dark Arts
"Today we'll be learning the Patronus Charm theory," Professor Granger-Malfoy announced to his second-year class. "This is advanced magic, so I don't expect you to produce a corporeal Patronus yet. But understanding the theory now will help you later."
Mia raised her hand. "Dad, what if someone's happy memory involves someone who was once considered an enemy?"
Draco paused, recognizing the deeper question. The class leaned in, intrigued.
"That's an excellent question, Mia. The Patronus responds to the purity of the emotion, not society's judgment of it. If your memory brings you genuine joy and love, it doesn't matter what others think of the circumstances." He looked around the classroom. "Some of the strongest Patronuses come from memories that others might find... unconventional."
After class, Mia lingered behind. "Was your happiest memory when you realized you loved Mum?"
Draco's expression softened. "One of them, yes. But you know what my happiest memory is now?"
"What?"
"The day you were born. That's when I knew that love really could conquer anything."
---
Third Year, Flying Lessons with Professor Weasley
"Alright, everyone, today we're going to work on advanced maneuvers," Ron called out to the third-year flying class. "Mia, since you've been practicing with your dad, would you demonstrate a Wronski Feint?"
Mia mounted her Nimbus 2003, a gift from Harry for her thirteenth birthday, and soared into the air. She executed the dive perfectly, pulling up at the last second as the practice Snitch zipped past where she would have crashed.
"Brilliant!" Ron shouted. "That's how it's done. I think we might have a natural Chaser on our hands!"
After the lesson, Ron approached her as she put her broom away.
"Mia, I've been talking to the Gryffindor Quidditch captain. We're holding tryouts next week for a new Chaser. Interested?"
Mia's eyes lit up. "Really? But I'm only a third year!"
"So was your mum when she played Seeker," Ron grinned. "And your dad made the Slytherin team in second year. Talent runs in the family."
---
Third Year, Quidditch Tryouts
The Gryffindor Quidditch pitch buzzed with activity as hopefuls gathered for Chaser tryouts. Mia stood among fifth and sixth years, looking small but determined.
"Nervous?" asked Emma Chang, the team captain and daughter of Cho Chang.
"A little," Mia admitted. "But my dad taught me that courage isn't about not being scared—it's about doing what's right even when you are scared."
"Wise words. Alright, let's see what you can do."
The tryouts were intense. Mia's size worked against her in some drills, but her speed and strategic thinking made up for it. In the scrimmage, she scored three goals in ten minutes, including one spectacular shot where she feinted left, spun around her opponent, and scored from an impossible angle.
"That was incredible!" Emma laughed as they landed. "Where did you learn that move?"
"I made it up," Mia panted, grinning. "Mum says the best solutions come from thinking differently than everyone else."
Two days later, the team roster was posted. There, in neat handwriting, was: "CHASER: Mia Granger-Malfoy (3rd Year)."
Mia ran all the way to her parents' quarters, bursting through the door.
"I made the team! I made the team!" she shouted, launching herself into Hermione's arms.
"We're so proud of you, sunshine," Draco said, joining the hug. "Though I have to ask—Chaser? Not Seeker like your mum or your Uncle Harry?"
"Chasers work as a team," Mia explained seriously. "Seekers are important, but they're kind of alone up there. I like working with people, like you and Mum do when you're teaching together."
Hermione and Draco exchanged amazed looks over their daughter's head. At thirteen, she already understood something it had taken them years to learn: the strongest magic happens when people work together.
---
Later That Evening, Family Time
The Granger-Malfoy family sat in their quarters, Mia sharing every detail of tryouts while they had dinner.
"Emma says I might be the youngest Chaser in fifty years," Mia said excitedly. "And guess what? Marcus—you know, the Slytherin boy from my first year—he made the Slytherin team too! As a Beater!"
"The same Marcus you helped with Transfiguration?" Hermione asked.
"Yes! He said he never would have made it without the confidence I helped him build. Isn't that brilliant? We'll be playing against each other, but we're still friends."
Draco smiled at his wife. Their daughter proved that old house rivalries were truly changing. She saw potential teammates and friends where previous generations had seen enemies.
"Speaking of friends," Hermione said, "Harry wrote to say he'll be coming to your first match. Uncle Ron too, of course, since he's coaching you. And I believe Aunt Luna is planning to commentate again."
"Really? That's wonderful! Luna's commentary is much more interesting than the regular announcers. Last match, she spent five minutes talking about how the Golden Snitch might be homesick."
As the evening wound down and Mia headed off to do homework, Hermione and Draco sat together on their sofa, watching their daughter through the doorway as she carefully wrote her Defense Against the Dark Arts essay.
"She's going to be extraordinary," Hermione said softly.
"She already is," Draco replied. "Look at her—thirteen years old and already bringing together students from all four houses, made the Quidditch team, excels in all her classes, and does it all with kindness and humility."
"She gets that from you," Hermione said, leaning against his shoulder.
"The humility, maybe. But the kindness, the way she sees the best in everyone—that's all you, love."
"No," Hermione said firmly. "That's all her. We may have given her the foundation, but she's building something entirely new. Something better than either of us could have imagined."
From the next room, they could hear Mia humming softly as she worked, a made-up melody that captured the happiness of a girl who had never known a world where love couldn't conquer prejudice, where former enemies couldn't become family, where a Mudblood and a Death Eater's son couldn't raise a daughter who would help heal the wizarding world.
The future was bright indeed.