At precisely 11:30, an invisibility cloak was delivered to her. Hermione pulled it over her head and slipped out of her rooms, forcing herself not to cry as he made her way through the halls and into the night. She could see a small group near the oak tree – several seventeen-year-old girls, Headmaster Filko, and a big-busted, scarlet-lipped woman with cold, greedy eyes. As she approached them, she pulled her cloak off and stared disgustedly as them.
"So, thees ees thee Granga gurl?" The woman's voice made the hair on her arms stand up in fear. It was smooth and silky, but with a cruel undertone that betrayed her cold-heartedness. Her accent was obviously fake, and quite hard to understand. Hermione stood stiffly as the woman examined her.
"Hur hair ill heeve to be cheenged, of course." The woman said, "And hur eyes. We'll meke her lips a bit plumpa, too. Her figya is not too beed. I do not know why no boy would sex hur."
"Excuse Me! I didn't want any of them." Hermione protested.
"Eh. She use thee seme excuse Lav-lav use." The woman rolled her eyes and gestured to Lavender Brown, who was glaring at her as if she were the devil.
"All gurl want boy to sex dem. Is nature. But Lav-Lav lie n sey 'Oh, I save myselv for husband, true luv!' Iv it be true, you is a fool!"
Lavender gritted her teeth. Hermione stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. Apparently, Lavender was not as much of a slut as she thought. Looking around, Hermione could also recognize Pansy Parkinson and Luna Lovegood.
"Enough wiv dee chatta." The woman said suddenly. "Let uz begin." She waved her wand briefly at the floor, and to Hermione's shock, the ground crumbled away to reveal a worn staircase, winding down into the darkness.
The woman made her way down the stairs, followed by a group of reluctant girls. The headmaster stayed behind, offering only a tip of his hat before heading back to the castle.
There was an entire world underneath the school. The ground beneath them was made of sand, and a fine cloud of dust cloaked their feet. Several stonewashed buildings slightly lighter than the sand stood tall and proud, half-dressed women walking in or out, talking quietly to each other or being dragged along by men. They entered one of the buildings and took their seats on hard, straight-backed wooden chairs. The woman, however, relaxed on a plush velvet loveseat.
"My name iz Angelina. Now, gurlz, let me tell vou how dis place will vee run. Vou have a quota. Vou must zleep wiv at least two men a night – 50 galleon a pop. Iv one man pay 100 galleons or more, you can zleep wiv only one. Dis mean you will make 700 galleon a week. All dis money goes to me and vour headmaster. Iv you do not meet dis quota, your transviguration grade will drop by 5 pointz. Now…" she extracted her wand, and Hermione flinched when she pointed it at her. Angelina gave it a wave, and Hermione's hair became sleek and blonde. A few more waves and her eyes became green, and her lips a bit fuller. When she was finished, Angelina moved on to the other girls and began changing them as well. Soon no one was recognizable. As she pocketed her wand, the door opened to reveal a tall, dark haired man. Hermione suppressed a gasp – it was Professor Snape.
"Where is the headmaster?" His voice was deep and silky, as usual.
"I don't know. It doesn't matter, anyway. Any thing you can tell him, you can tell me." Angelina's accent had disappeared completely. "You can trust me."
Snape snorted.
"I'm sure I can," he said sarcastically. "I need to speak to him about Potions class being canceled."
"If it were up to me, it wouldn't be. You do such a nice job at it. I'm just glad that you still get to tutor and stay in the school. If you want, I can visit you, charge-free…"
"Obviously you can't help me," he turned to leave.
"Bye, Professor." Lavender mumbled. With her new red hair and brown eyes, it was hard for Hermione to remember who she was. Even her voice was different.
Snape turned around, eyes narrowed suspiciously at the sound of his title. No one but his students and the staff called him Professor.
"Did you ever attend Hogwarts?" he asked.
Angelina shot Lavender a warning look.
"N-no." The girl stuttered. "I just heard about you before."
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen," she responded truthfully.
He relaxed. He would recognize one of his seventh years.
"Good day, Miss." Sympathy was detectable is gaze.
"So respectful to classless prostitutes!" Angelina laughed.
Snape sneered.
"I'm sure the only classless one here is you." With that, he left.