Hermione had never been one to put much stock in her parent’s honeyed words or fanciful tales. The fables of witches and monsters and Gods hiding behind the cover of the Moon hadn’t startled her so much as they had intrigued her. In the end she had sat still and listened devoutly as they revealed the horrible escapades of witches long sent packing into the brush, of monsters made from those who blasphemed their Gods and spat on the richness of the earth. She had never thought long and hard on the pitiable glances they would give to one another as they relayed that information.