When Slughorn announced they would soon have visitors, Hermione didn't know how to feel. Sure she wanted to see Jane but on the other hand she didn't want her sister to see her like that, trapped. The house they were kept may be a lot more luxurious and clean than the huts she was sharing with the other Muggleborns but at least there she was free, as free a Mublood could ever be.

Still, the relief she felt when she saw her overcame her dread. Jane was fine; a little thinner, a little paler, but essentially okay. She even smiled when she told her about Colin's and Martha's fight. Hermione wanted Jane to keep smiling so she started describing her wand. She had just told her how she managed to end up with the one covered in goo, when she saw Jane's expression.

"That's not funny." She wasn't smiling anymore. She grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "You understand that this…this is the only thing that will keep you alive. Goo and all."

She didn't want to upset her, not more than it was necessary, but she couldn't lie to her. "And you understand that I had literally no chance." She was harsh but Jane needed to hear the truth.

"Because of the wand?" She asked. There were tears in her eyes and Hermione couldn't help but notice how young she looked. She had arrived only a year ago.

No. Because Voldermord would never allow a Mudblood to win. Because we are torn from our houses to serve them and be killed for their entertainment. Because we all live in borrowed time until we are replaced by fresher meat. Because you can be lucky to live for 10, 15 years but in the end the only thing waiting for you is an open grave.

"Yes. I may have a chance, then."

Jane left soon after that. She was paler than she was when she first came in but at least she wasn't crying. Hermione took solace in small things these days.

Slughorn led her to the same room they practiced the first day. Dean and the other two were already there and were casting spells or at least they were trying. Slughorn moved his wand and four pears appeared out of thin air. With another movement of his wand, he put them on the table.

"Today, kids, we will learn a very useful spell. We will make these pears dance!" he declared proudly.

Hermione looked at Dean who looked at Colin who looked at Martha who looked at her shoes.

Hot, burning, fury consumed her.

"CAN YOU ACTUALLY TEACH US SOMETHING USEFUL?"

"Have you lost your mind? Keep your voice down!" Slughorn said. He looked terrified. This was the first time Hermione saw him react with anything than cheer or annoyance and she felt strangely satisfied. At least now she knew there was a real person under the façade.

"Can you actually teach us something useful?" she whispered. She was so tired.

He stared at her. His face gave nothing, his expression perfectly blank. Only his eyes betrayed that something was different. After a few moments of silence, he answered: "No." And so low she couldn't be sure that she hadn't imagine it "I'm sorry."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Dean asked while they were eating.

"I'm going to die really soon and I just waste one hour of that little time I have trying to make two pears dance Tango, that's what's wrong with me."

"Jeez, when you put it that way, it does suck." He cleared his plate for the second time that day. "At least, they feed us."

"Have you noticed that we hadn't met anyone apart from Slughorn?"

"Do you think I am stupid? Of course I noticed."

"Slughorn was terrified when I yelled. So someone's watching."

"Or listening, at least."

"Well, no one is listening now. I cast the spell."

"You didn't say anything."

"I did it…silently."

"Fuck. You are good."

She couldn't help but smile. She was good, she had to admit. Not that it would help her in the long run but it felt good to be praised for something she had to hide all the time. She wasn't simply good, she was amazing. At nights, she felt the power inside her veins, tickling her skin, singing her name.

"Do you think they use the portraits to spy us?" Dean asked.

"Probably." Dean stared at the eastern wall where there was a portrait of an old lady. She winked at him and licked her lips. "Ew," he shuddered. "I don't think she is the spying type."

"Maybe no one listens. I mean, what exactly we can do? We are not a threat to them. We are nothing."

"You are something," Colin said suddenly. Martha nodded. "You are doing all these things none of us can do."

"Colin's right. You are drawing too much attention to yourself. You should be careful."

"What's the point? We are all going to die, anyway."

"You are a ray of sunshine, you know that?"

Slughorn informed them of the next day's schedule. "This is the last night you will spend here. Tomorrow, your friends will visit you for the last time and then you will meet your opponents."

"Can't wait," Dean whispered in her ear. "See you in five."

Hermione headed for her room. As far as she knew, she was free to go wherever she wanted but she preferred the false security the small room gave her. There was nothing to see elsewhere; every room she had seen was an exact replica of the "Practice Room." It was literally a maze, with no sign of exit.

"So, tomorrow is the big day. Are you excited?" Dean asked as soon as he entered her room.

"I'm dying," she answered drily. Dean chuckled. "Can't wait to meet the person that will kill me."

"Can we talk about anything else?"

"I'm sorry. Let's talk about the weather, instead. Very important topic."

Dean stared at her. He looked angry. She wondered how she managed to piss off every person she came across today. She didn't want to fight; she was already too many enemies and not enough friends.

"I'm sorry. I get it; you probably want to talk about something else."

"It's not that I don't like talking about death, doom and destruction. It just gets a little too repetitive."

"Fine. What do you want to talk about?"

"Tell me about your sister."

Hermione didn't expect that although it made perfect sense. It was a simple question, but somehow it felt wrong. Too personal. Jean was a part of herself. She wanted to protect her from everyone. She knew she can't and this brings her more hurt that anything else.

Dean looked at her expectantly.

"She is not really my sister, of course." She took a deep breath. Jane was not her sister, she knew that. She had prayed every day that she wasn't.

"I was here for five years when she appeared. You know how they are at first; disoriented. Afraid. A little angry. I saw her and I don't know….she was different."

"She looks like you. A lot."

"I am not anything special."

"You know what I mean. You have thought it, too. She could be your sister. "

"Or she could be not."

"You are a genius, you have already figure out, haven't you? What that means if it's true."

"Yes. My parents are alive and they are pretty much breeding stock."

Jane didn't visit her the next day. Instead a woman with black hair drawn into a tight bun came and informed her she couldn't make it. Hermione yelled and demanded to see her. She was ready to attack the other woman with her bare hands when two creatures with black cloaks appeared. She felt sick and she knew that Jane was dead.

The feeling passed quickly. The older woman had cast a spell Hermione didn't know. She felt the warmth seeping through her. "I can handle it myself," she said and her voice was icy. The dark creatures vanished. The woman turned her eyes to Hermione who was lying on the floor. "Get up. Now." Hermione tried but her feet had completely paralyzed.

"Imperio."

She stood up immediately. She felt lighter than the air. She felt nothing for a perfect minute and then everything hurt again and Jane was still dead.

"Don't do that again." She sounded disgusted. She was holding something in her hand. Hermione recognized her wand, the one covered with goo. The woman grabbed her hand and opened her palm. "Use this. If you can."

She was ready to use every curse she knew and some she didn't when she realized something was different. She looked at her hand. The wand looked exactly like the one she picked from Slughorn's box but it wasn't the same. She could feel its power, its magic. For the first time the blood inside her calmed.

"Of course, you can't," her voice had the same disgusted tone but her eyes told a different story. Hermione understood.

After the woman left, Hermione examined her new wand carefully. On the bottom of the handle, so faded you could barely see, there were four letters: OoTP.