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Learning to be self reliant takes time, and hard work. These are the steps: Assume responsibility, know where you are going, make your own decisions. Yes sir, it's hard work to become self reliant. Anyone of us could use a bit more than we have. If you're not self reliant, you'll never do anymore than just get by.
A little dose of self reliance can do wonders.
Now, you may think that's the end of the story. Actually, it's only the beginning.
- Developing Self Reliance (1951)
"STOP!" Hermione shrieked, grasping at Ron Weasley's robe as he pounded Gregory Goyle's face in. Of course, he looked no better; Madam Pomfrey would be repairing his teeth and his bleeding scalp if the professors of Hogwarts didn't turn him into a greasy spot as punishment for this brawl. "RONALD! STOP!"
Harry wasn't faring as well. Vincent Crabbe had the Boy Who Lived by the hair, attempting to grind his face into the stone floor of the Entrance Hall as half of the student body watched. This didn't stop Harry from doing his best to get as many hits in as he could.
"You're such a fucking idiot, Crabbe," snarled Harry as he swung a bloodied fist up and slammed it into the boy's already bruised face. The Slytherin released Harry with a howl, clutching his nose. Harry kicked out, shoving the boy back to the ground before he began pummeling him in the face.
The crowd around them pressed in, shouting their encouragements at the brawl.
"Kick his arse, Harry!" Someone shouted from in the back. A camera flashed, making Hermione turn to glare at the offender. Colin Creevey immediately looked sheepish and slid back into the sea of bodies pushing forward.
"Ten galleons on Weasley!"
"I'll do fifty on Goyle," Pansy Parkinson shouted.
"Don't take that shit from them Crabbe! Use your wand!"
Hermione, exasperated at the situation and more than worried about what the professors would do, pulled out her wand and pointed it at Ron.
"Stupefy!" The red light shot from her wand, landing square on Ron's back. He stumbled and fell to the floor in a faint. Goyle was about to use that to his advantage when Hermione trained her wand on him.
"Don't test me," she growled. Goyle backed up, hands in front of him. It was enough to get the attention of the other two, just as Professor McGonagall pushed through the gathered students, her usually neat bun falling from its hold. The crowd fell quiet, suddenly shamed at their vulgar display. A wave of the Deputy Headmistress's wand had Ron waking up with a groan, clutching at his head.
"What is wrong with you?!" Professor McGonagall snarled, looking at the damage then glaring at the now silent bystanders, "One hundred points, each of you! For fighting and a month of detention with Filch. Now get to the hospital!"
"They started it Professor," said Ron, "they called Hermione a mudblood."
Neither Slytherin looked repentant, but kept glaring at the two Gryffindor boys as they peeled themselves off the floor.
Professor McGonagall threw her hands up, the normally unflappable witch at her wit's end with frustration.
"Ronald!" Hermione admonished, "It's nothing new at this point. Please, stop trying to defend my honor. If it hurt my feelings I'd say something." In truth, it did hurt but she was so numb to the term now it didn't matter. There were greater issues to be concerned with. She walked across the floor to Ron, carefully stepping to avoid the drops of blood that littered the stone pavers.
"Oh no, Miss Granger. You are going to class. These imbeciles can all get themselves where they need to be," said Professor McGonagall.
Hermione nodded, looking at Harry apologetically. His face was beginning to swell as black and blue bruises blossomed over his skin.
"I'll help them Professor, I've got my first hour free," Lavender Brown volunteered, hurrying over to Ron. Hermione's eyes narrowed as she watched the witch run her hand up Ron's bicep, murmuring to him. Ron nodded at the girl and stood up.
"Good," said Professor McGonagall before she narrowed her eyes on Crabbe and Goyle, "I'll be speaking to Professor Snape regarding your conduct here."
Professor McGonagall turned and made her way towards the staircase, muttering under her breath about the audacity to even begin fighting on the first full day of term.
Shouldering her bag, Hermione moved to follow her. It was odd to see the Slytherin boys pick a fight in such a muggle fashion. Beating the living hell out of someone using your hands was supposed to be something that muggles did, not old stuffy traditional purebloods.
The fact that they were going at it barely twenty four hours into the beginning of term was frustrating to say the least. Between the tensions that rode high throughout the Wizarding World and the way Harry had zeroed in on Malfoy as being a possible Death Eater, and therefore under constant suspicion, was enough to do her head in.
There was always something and Harry was probably right. The bouncing Ferret of infamous renown probably was up to no good. The question was what? He had to be doing something for the Dark Lord. After watching him with his Aunt at Borgin and Burke's Hermione was sure that whatever it was, it was not good.
Hermione spent the last evening, while she and Ron waited for Harry to appear, watching the blonde prat. He talked with his friends, and ate. But his appearance in speaking with his friends lacked the normal better-than-thou attitude. He barely touched what he put on his plate. His eyes held shadows beneath them.
The Ferret was stressed. Having a Father in Azkaban and Merlin only knew what else going on at home would do that to anyone. Hermione sniffed as she turned into another corridor. Whatever was going on, it served the evil prat right.
Finally arriving at her Arithmancy class, Hermione took her usual spot towards the front and pulled her book, parchment paper, and quills from her satchel. After arranging them neatly on the desk in front of her she glanced around at the other students. While this was a N.E.W.T. level course, she didn't expect for there to be so few of her classmates.
The announcement that Voldemort had returned at the beginning of the summer made parents withdraw their children from the school. Rumors even flew around that some had emigrated to the United States, seeking asylum with the M.A.C.U.S.A. Others had left for South Africa and Egypt.
Hermione turned back to face the front of the room and tapped her quill against the table as Professor Vector opened the classroom door and walked in and pointed her wand at the blackboard, an equation appearing in neat script.
"I'd like for you to spend the first part of this class solving the problem. Then we can move onto Nox's Theory of Magical Gravity," said Professor Vector before settling into her chair.
Hermione immediately began to scribble away, her mind focusing on the task at hand and not the fact that the world outside Hogwarts was tearing itself apart.
End of January, 1997, Hogsmeade
Hermione perused the seldom visited used book section of Tomes and Scrolls, hoping that Mr. Biblio's lack of organization would lead her to something useful. She already carried a book that would help her in her essay on Moon Cycles for Professor Sinistra. Now if she could find something for Harry that would give them information on the Horcruxes Dumbledore wanted to destroy. Her search was proving fruitless. With a sigh she sat on the floor and began to look over the bottom shelf. Her fingers ran over the old bindings, pausing every so often to pull a book out and glance at the chapters.
A laugh escaped her lips as she pulled out an old copy of Lockhart's Magical Me. How she ever had a crush on the idiot was beyond her. Why Professor Dumbledore even thought that it would be a good idea to have him teach in the first place an ongoing puzzle. She flipped the book over in her hands and moved to put it back, pausing when the novel wouldn't fit. She pulled the book back out again and looked into the slot.
"Huh," she said, noticing that another book in the back must have shifted when she pulled out Lockhart's excuse for literature. Reaching in, she grabbed the tome for there was no other word to describe the heavy book, and pulled it out.
Her heart started racing as she gazed upon The Dark Arts: A Practical Guide, a large book made of worn black leather and gold ink that was mostly flicked off at this point. Hermione looked back towards the counter where Mr. Biblio sat, absorbed in the Daily Prophet, before she turned her attention to the book in her hands.
A flick of her wrist had her wand in hand, and she cast a muffliato charm around her. It wouldn't do any good to have the book start screaming as soon as she opened the first page.
With a great amount of caution, Hermione opened the book to the contents and let a whoosh of air from her lungs when the book didn't start any dramatic noise making. Her curiosity turned to frustration when she couldn't find anything on Horcruxes. Still, it would be worth keeping around.
Hermione looked up at the front counter. Mr. Biblio was still absorbed in his paper. He would surely question her if she attempted to purchase this book. Biting her lip then looking at her satchel, Hermione made the quick decision to shrink the book and shove it into her bag.
'I can always pay him back,' she reasoned as she stood with the astronomy book she did intend the purchase and picked her way through the stacks to the counter.
Mr. Biblio looked up at her with kind blue eyes and smiled, "Ah, Miss Granger, always a pleasure." He set the paper down on the counter and held his hand out for the book. Hermione handed it over and smiled.
"How have you been, Mr. Biblio?" Hermione asked, a sweet smile gracing her lips. Mr. Biblio frowned.
"I'd be quite a bit better if You-Know-Who's forces didn't destroy that homeless shelter in the crossfire with Auror's in Diagon Alley last week. Brought all those vagrants up here. Between them and the Death Eaters I have half a mind to close the shop for a bit; this whole war is bad for business. No one wants anything because they're too scared to leave their homes!" Mr. Biblio said with a growl as he rang up Hermione's book.
A slight bit of guilt bubbled up in the pit of Hermione's stomach as she thought of the Dark book in the bottom of her bag. She stamped that feeling out as she realized Mr. Biblio probably hadn't even catalogued the used books otherwise that one would never be there in the first place.
"You tell your friend that I want this war over with. Make sure he gets the message," Mr. Biblio grouched, pointing a finger at Hermione as she paid and took her book back, "and make sure you stay safe!"
"Yes sir, always," replied Hermione with a smile.
"Mione," Ginny's voice called from the front of the shop making her turn towards the red haired girl, "Harry and Ron said to meet them at the Three Broomsticks for lunch. I've got to pop over to Honeyduke's but then I'll meet up with you. Save us a table in the back, will you?"
"Of course, Gin. I'll see you there," Hermione said before brushing an errant curl out of her face and bidding Mr. Biblio a good day. Hermione lightened her bags with a wave of her wand and carried them out of the store into the cold January weather.
Sleet drizzled down onto the streets of Hogsmeade, teachers and prefects patrolling the streets, keeping an eye out for the students that entered and exited the shops. Despite the happy atmosphere of the meandering students, the threat of Voldemort manifested in the grim lines of the teachers faces, the hard set mouths of the shopkeepers in Hogsmeade, and the general grey that seemed to color all the once shiny storefronts.
Hermione sighed, reminded of the constant strain in Harry's face whenever she looked at him. His eyes were usually rimmed red and bloodshot from the lack of sleep. She'd spent hours in the library trying to find anything that could help him get through this. Help him win. It didn't help that they had a month's worth of detentions after fighting with Crabbe and Goyle at the beginning of the school year. Hermione spent an entire evening scolding the two boys in front of the fire in the Gryffindor Common room. Both had reacted sheepishly, even though the two Slytherins instigated the entire thing.
"Hermione!" A voice called. Hermione spun and saw Ron and Harry walking towards her with grim looks on their faces.
"What's wrong?" She asked, walking quickly to meet them, "Ginny said you wanted to meet at the Three Broomsticks. Why are you—,"
"We told Ginny that we'd be there in a bit. We need to go the Shrieking Shack. It's about… You–Know–Who," said Ron as he leaned forward to whisper. Hermione looked at the two boys and frowned.
"Wouldn't it be better to go back to Hogwarts to discuss this? It's a bit more private." She shifted her bag to her other hand as Harry began to attempt flattening his hair against his forehead.
"No, no time. We need to go to the Shack," he said before grabbing her arm and hauling her down the street with Ron on their heels.
"Harry, you don't have to manhandle me," Hermione said, shrugging out of his grip, "what is wrong with you?"
"Sorry, lots on my mind…" he muttered then kept walking. A knot formed in Hermione's stomach and she followed Harry into the snowy wood.
The trees outside of Hogsmeade towered over the three as they walked towards the run-down building that once housed Remus Lupin during his transformations. The further they went from Hogsmeade, the more her nerves seemed to increase. She frowned but kept behind Harry with Ron practically breathing down her neck until they reached the Shrieking Shack.
The sleet became snow as they stomped up to the Shack. Little bits of water filled white fluff soaked into her cloak, making her shiver. She pulled her wand out, casting an impervious over herself before tilting her head up to look at the boys.
"Now, why are we out here, instead of inside the Three Broomsticks eating steak and kidney pie and drinking butterbeer?" She demanded.
Both of the wizards looked dumbly at her before their lips began to curl up into vicious smirks.
"What is wrong with the two of you?!" She gazed into their perfectly clear eyes. Understanding dawned on her face, "Shit."
She dodged to the side, throwing up a shield just as a spell from 'Harry's' wand slammed into it, making it neatly shatter.
"Diffindo!"
"Bombarda!"
"Incarcerous!" Ron yelled. Ropes shot out from the tip of his wand, slamming into Hermione's shield. Hermione dodged to the side, bringing her wand up to cast a stunning spell.
"Crucio!" A voice shouted from behind her, the spell knocking her onto the ground with a scream. The sensation of a million knives ripped through her body and caused her to seize on the ground. The agony of the curse was tripled as the ice covered snow cut into her skin as she thrashed about. Finally, the curse ended, only for Hermione to be hit with a stunner. Everything faded to black.
"I should have known that the two of you wouldn't be able to contain her," Draco Malfoy said as he stepped from the shadows of the forest, "though I am impressed that you got this far."
Ron's features gradually morphed into the face of Vincent Crabbe, while Harry's became Gregory Goyle.
"She's such a swot. I'm surprised she didn't realize it was us," said Goyle.
"Yeah, she actually took us for her best mates," said Crabbe.
Draco sneered at the stupid witch as she lay prone on the ground.
"Stupid mudblood," he said cast another cruciatus and watched her body writhe before stunning her again. "Hand me her wand."
Goyle leaned over and grabbed the wand from Hermione's hand placing it in Draco's. Draco smirked and snapped the wand in half before looking at the core. "She doesn't deserve a dragon heartstring core."
"Too bad she isn't a pureblood," drawled Crabbe.
"Why's that?" asked Goyle.
"She's fit. Bet she'd be feisty if given the chance," Crabbe replied. Draco grimaced.
"We're not here to screw the mudblood," sneered Draco before withdrawing a small paper crane. He waved his wand and the crane vanished from sight, "a message that we've completed one of our… tasks." Crabbe and Goyle nodded. Then he pulled a rusty can from his cloak pocket and shoved it into Hermione's hand.
"It'll be quite a surprise when she wakes up," he drawled before tapping the can with his wand, watching the mudblood get sucked away into the void.
"What is going to happen to her?" asked Goyle.
"She's got a date in three weeks that she has to prepare for," said Draco as he brushed the snow off the sleeves of his robes.
Goyle screwed up his face, before a look of understanding dawned on Crabbe's.
"Greyback?" asked Crabbe quietly. Nodding, Draco moved to leave the clearing. Crabbe looked back at where Hermione had laid. He knew what the werewolf could do. He knew that Granger could die. He just couldn't bring himself to care.
"Let's go back to the castle," called Draco as he waved his wand over the clearing, making their footprints vanish like they had never existed. Hermione's bag sat in the white powder, slowly getting covered in snow. He stared at the bag thoughtfully.
"Leave the bag. Let the teachers find it and run about in a panic. Let's go back to the castle." Draco cast another spell as the three Slytherins walked back towards Hogwarts, their footprints fading in the snow.
Hermione groaned as she came to, her eyes slowly adjusting to the dark around her. The waning moon gave off some light; enough to see that she was nowhere near the Shrieking Shack. Instead of the snow covered ground she remembered, she felt water flowing all around her, icy to the point of pain. She sat up with a wince as her whole body began protesting, small tremors moving through her limbs making her shake.
Sitting in a marsh, surrounded by bulrush was not the way she envisioned spending her evening. Standing on shaky feet, Hermione looked around before she reached for her wand only to find it wasn't there.
The previous events of her trip to Hogsmeade came flooding into her mind.
"Those… those… FUCKERS!" She bellowed, unable to find a better term to describe what she knew had to be Crabbe and Goyle under the influence of the Polyjuice Potion. They must have been planning her abduction for months. She picked up the rusted can and threw it into the water before kicking her way out of the marsh and onto drier land.
Draco Malfoy must have helped them, because there was no way they could brew an adequate Polyjuice or summon a decent Cruciatus; considering how inclined they were at failing the simplest of assignments.
Hermione wrapped her sodden cloak around her, trying to get her bearings. Crags interspersed with gorse were on either side of her, while the stream she landed in flowed down to an old medieval tower, surrounded by a fallen stone wall. Gorse surrounded the wall and Hermione was not sure she wanted to pick her way through to get to the shelter. Without her wand though, she couldn't apparate and she sure wouldn't be able to cast a drying or warming charm on herself.
With a resigned sigh, Hermione began moving down to the tower, fantasizing about how much pain she wished she could put the three Slytherins in when she got back to the school.
An hour later she was covered in small cuts from the thorns on the gorse and her cloak ripped into near shreds rsomewhere between the stream and the stone wall. But none of that mattered because she couldn't take her eyes off the mutilated carcass of a large red deer that sat at the foot of the wall. She was sure that nothing in Scotland could kill something that big as viciously as this one had been ripped apart. Wolves hadn't been reintroduced as far as she knew.
She looked back up at the sky, noticing the waning moon, and cringed. It had to have been a werewolf. Her gaze focused on the dilapidated tower. There was no way it would be living in that place. It looked like it hadn't been touched in centuries.
Hermione swallowed the nerves that danced in her stomach and up her throat before stepping over the stone wall. Warmth encased her, reminding her of Christmases with the Weasleys, before Hermione realized why. Without her wand she couldn't get a direct image of wards, but still, the magic hung in the air; as if it were holding up a giant 'WELCOME' sign.
The tower still looked the same from before crossing over the wall, stones falling here and there, a rotting door that hung off iron hinges opening up to the dark interior within. Hermione crossed the yard and leaned into the shadows. The smell of dust and disuse permeated the air. Slowly, she moved the door, jumping back as the wood fell to the ground in a sodden heap.
Once she was sure the way was clear she began making her way inside. Despite the dark, the moon shone through the slotted windows built into the wall of the spiraling stairwell. Hermione made her way up, slipping every so often on the worn steps.
Finally she was at the top, in a large room filled with old swords, archery supplies and one skeleton.
Hermione crept forward to the skeleton, noting the fine jewelry that adorned the once living person. The necklace that hung between the ribcage caught her attention and she reached her hand out, entranced by the silver chain and gleaming emerald. Her fingers made contact with the metal, just in time for a loud POP to sound behind her.
Hermione jumped and whirled around, before landing on her arse next to the skeleton.
"Mistress Nathair is here to free Pip!" A squeaky voice said with a hint of brogue in its accent. Hermione was dumbfounded when a near naked elf stepped forward from the shadows, "Mistress can save Pip!"
And Hermione always thought that this stuff only happened to Harry.