I am so sad I didn't get my Halloween chapter up on Halloween. But only one day off, so not too bad. I hope you guys like this chapter. They're steadily getting shorter because I honestly have no idea where I'm going with this story. But it'll kick butt, 'cause I am amazing, haha
Thank you to everybody who has reviewed, that makes me happy, and just thanks to everybody who has read it. That also makes me happy. And don't be afraid to give me ideas, Lord knows I need 'em.
Thanks again and enjoy!
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Chapter Four
Before Hermione knew it, it was Halloween. The days were shorter, the nights colder. The Forbidden Forest was a beautiful mixture of yellows, oranges and reds, all swirled together in a perfect combination. The witch couldn't say that she wasn't looking forward to the feast. She hadn't seen those floating pumpkins and bats in her Great Hall since her sixth year. The witch was ready for a Halloween feast.
She wasn't the only one. A majority of the students slowly counted down the days until Halloween. The ghosts were making more appearances, and Peeves was taking every opportunity to scare as many people as possible. Professor Smith had to be the most excited out of all of them. His classroom was the only one to have decorations of its own. Jack-o-Lanterns, fake cobwebs with plastic spiders, stupid little ghosts, skeletons. It looked like a cheap, Muggle haunted house. And all of the students loved it. Some witches and wizards were reminded of their childhood Halloweens, and the teenagers who didn't experience trick-or-treating found amusement in the decorations that Muggles possessed. Smith let students use charms to carve their own pumpkins, if they so desired. Silly smiley faces, works of art, and dancing Jack-o-Lanterns filled the tower. They didn't learn anything the week before Halloween besides Muggle traditions and how to discard of pumpkin guts.
The best part was Smith himself. He had forgotten, temporarily, about his blue and brown suit. About ten days before Hollow's Eve, he started wearing a different outfit. Not even necessarily a costume. It looked as if he went to the very back of his closet and found the most ridiculous thing to wear during each class. On the fourth day, he wore a long brown coat with a scarf that had to have been sixty feet long with a mahogany colored hat. The scarf was wrapped three times around Smith's neck and it spilled onto the floor, trailing behind him. One plastic decoration was filled with Jelly Babies, which Smith kept offering. and The day before the feast, he wore a leather jacket that was several sizes too large for his skinny frame and a purple v-neck. That day, the teacher was extremely sassy, and he said "Fantastic" in almost every sentence.
The students had fun guessing what he would wear each day, and they were always off. This was the crazy thing that Professor Smith did that really got his students to like him. He was so insane and outrageous. The Astronomy teacher was the only adult that would wear silly looking outfits and let his room get sprayed with the insides of pumpkins. He was really the only teacher who didn't, well, act like a teacher. He would tell jokes in class, and talk to his students. He'd ask each class about their day, and Smith would let them have study periods. He seemed like he actually cared about his students' wellbeing instead of teaching them about stars and planets.
Even though no one really liked Astronomy, it was everybody's favorite class.
On Halloween, Smith was back to wearing his brown suit with matching coat, much to several students' disappointment. His hair was spiked normally, and that classic grin was on his face. When Hermione asked him about all the crazy outfits, he just said, "Wanted to feel like my old selves again."
With that in her head, Hermione made her way down to the feast. Her leg was healed except for a long, thin scratch, and her bruises were fading away. The witch almost felt as good as new. Her headaches still came and went, and the creature still haunted her dreams. But overall, she was fine. Happy even. The teenager wanted nothing more than to sit at her House table and eat some wonderful food prepared by the loyal house-elves.
She sat next to Ginny, having the first meal in days where she actually talked to her redheaded friend. The Great Hall roared with conversation, and all of Smith's pumpkins were hovering above the tables. The witch was smiling fully, and she felt happy. Honestly happy. Hermione rejoiced in the feeling, knowing that it really couldn't last long. Her mind flashed back on her first Hogwart's Halloween. The ugly troll emerged into her mind, and the witch couldn't help grinning.
Drinking out of her goblet, Hermione's eyes flickered over to the teacher's table. Smith-the Doctor- caught the witch's eye. He gave her an exaggerated wink and a wolfish grin. The teenager laughed into her drink. A thin, white hand smacked the man, and Donna's laugh was clearly heard over all of the chatter. Hermione felt a twinge of sadness, wishing she could be next to her new friends enjoying this feast.
"You all right Hermione?" Ginny's voice had the brilliant witch turning away from the head table. Her friend's eyes swooped from where Hermione was just looking, and they locked on her friend.
The witch knit her eyebrows, "'Course…why wouldn't I be?"
The redhead bit her lip, looking down at her knees. Hermione stiffened her back, knowing that this wasn't going to be a fun conversation. "I dunno. You've been distant lately. And everybody knows you've been hangin' 'round those two." She gestured towards Donna and Smith, her brown eyes filled with concern. "What's that all about anyway? You don't even talk to me anymore. You just sit in your chair reading or talking to the weird one."
Hermione felt a little insulted when Ginny said the last bit. "Weird one." Sure, the Smith-Doctor fellow was abnormal, but who said that was a bad thing? The witch groaned inwardly. She knew she was getting herself into trouble if she started defending that skinny man.
A minute of silence passed before she spoke again, "I'm not sure Ginny. But, in my defense, it's not like I see you much either." The teenager wasn't hateful in her speaking, and that hurt Ginny in a surprising way. "You have Quidditch, and I never really got along with the students in your grade anyway."
Hermione smiled sadly. She pushed back her thick mane of hair and sighed, "And as for talking with Smith and Noble? That's nothing really. It's like us with Hagrid, or even Harry with Remus." The witch knew she was being somewhat untruthful, but at the same time, there was no other way to describe the relationship between her and her teachers. "What I-"
The doors at the end of the Great Hall burst open, a strong gust of wind flowing through the open doors. The candles floating above the students and teachers flickered out, and the room was plunged into darkness. The blackness made the silence more deafening. No one moved, no one breathed, too afraid of what might burst through the now open doors. A rogue troll, a dementor or, what was really plaguing everyone's thoughts, a Death Eater.
Hermione removed herself from the bench, slowly standing up. No one paid her any attention; the students couldn't even see her. The witch clasped her wand in her slightly shaky hand. Lighting flickered once above head, and a silhouette appeared for the shortest of seconds. The witch's eyes widened and she pointed her wand upwards and swept her arm across the hall. The candles happily lit and filled the dining room with a healthy glow.
All the students and teachers blinked, startled by the light. A few embarrassed laughs filled the air, and several witches' and wizards' cheeks burned red. To be afraid of the a little wind, how ridiculous. The chatter started up again as if nothing happened. The sorceress was still standing in the aisle, no one giving her a second thought.
Forgetting about dinner, she hurried out of the Great Hall, trying not to sprint. The teenager burst into the Entrance Hall, looking for anything out of the ordinary. But nothing stood out. It was lit by the lanterns, and Nearly Headless Nick was humming under his breath. Nothing unusual. Exasperated, Hermione walked towards the nearest moving staircase. Her brain was pounding again, and her irritation was growing. Why did the doors open? They were thick, solid doors. They don't just swing open because a gust of wind came by.
Something moved in Hermione's peripheral vision. The witch froze, her wand at the ready. She glanced to her left and saw the extended shadow of something at the end of a corridor. Her heart beating faster than usual, the sorceress crept down the hallway, her back nearly against the wall.
All of the books she had checked out on shadow creatures came flooding back to her. What could this thing, if it was the creature, possibly be? It couldn't be anything new. There wasn't really any magical beasts out there that didn't have a name. Unless…unless this was the exception. This spiteful creature could be something that the wizarding world had never seen before. Hermione bit her lip. Maybe-
She stopped cold, her heart crawling in her throat. There wasn't a single light in the hallway. It seemed too dark, impossibly dark. Hermione ignited the tip of her wand, and she gasped quietly. The witch was standing in a completely destroyed corridor. Every portrait, every tapestry, every suit of armor was ripped and torn to pieces. Water soaked the floor, and it seeped into Hermione's shoes. Dumbfounded, the teenager stumbled forward, unable to process the destruction around her. She tripped over scraps of metal and wooden frames, barely glancing to see if anything was hidden.
But torn pictures weren't the only thing in the hallway. The witch squinted her eyes, which then widened with realization. The sorceress yelled out, hoping that she was wrong. She had to be wrong. Fear gripping her chest, she sprinted down the hallway, shadows of the broken objects moving with her wand. Skidding on her knees, the witch shone the light over the terrible sight.
"No." Hermione whispered, turning the young girl over on her back. The Ravenclaw was deathly pale, bruises standing out on her neck. Her chest wasn't moving. The teenager's mind went blank, horror filling her bloodstream. "No. N-help!"
She couldn't leave the poor girl, and hysteria was eating away at her heart. The witch clutched the stranger to her chest, nearly sobbing, "HELP ME! HELP, SOMEBODY."
Calling, never-ending calling. Tear-streaked and heartbroken for the girl she didn't know, the witch was so relieved when she heard footsteps. But really, what did it matter? The girl was gone, the witch knew that much. A warm hand pulled at her shoulder, but the teenager couldn't move. Those same warm hands lifted the witch up enough to drag her away from the young witch, and Hermione didn't fight. Trying to pull herself together, the teenager looked up at Professor Smith.
Emotionless. That's a word that the Doctor didn't think he's ever use to describe Hermione. His eyes were better than humans, and he could see the young girl perfectly. Her robes were soaked, her knees bloody, and her eyes were red. But there wasn't a trace of anger for the girl's death or determination to find the thing that did it. The witch looked defeated and heartbroken if you looked hard enough, but she was putting up one hell of a fight not to show it.
Without being asked, the Gryffindor relayed how and why she left the Great Hall, the destroyed corridor and limp girl at the end. She didn't even notice the other teachers with their lit wands in the background listening to her story. Hermione didn't care. What did it matter? This girl was dead because she wasn't quick enough. It was hear fault, completely. If she had run faster…or even, if the witch had killed that thing two weeks ago. This wouldn't have happened.
Donna knelt behind Hermione and draped an arm around her. Gently lifting the witch onto her feet, Professor Noble started steering her student back towards the common room. Her heart was heavy, and her stomach churned. How could anything hurt a poor little girl? She was only about twelve, it wasn't fair. Donna felt tears clog her throat, and she gave Hermione a squeeze.
The witch froze. Afraid she did something wrong, Donna opened her mouth to say something. In a flurry of movements, the teenager pushed herself away from Donna and was pointing her wand at the ceiling. Confused and extremely frightened, Professor Noble, along with the other teachers, followed Hermione's wand.
Donna's mouth dropped open at the sight. A black…thing hovered above near the ceiling, impossibly still. It didn't even have a face, just black. Nothing. The redhead felt Hermione trembling, and when she glanced at her favorite student; there was anger etched onto the witch's face. An anger that the redhead had seen before, except, instead, on a certain Time Lord that was standing behind her.
Not even breathing, the sorceress whipped her arm forward, a sharp ray of white light hitting the shadow. It scattered into a million different pieces before forming into a body again. The teachers started yelling as the creature flew upon the witch, screaming it's horrible scream.
Hermione rolled away, crashing into the wall. Her head snapped up, looking for the creature. When she saw the thing, the witch chased after it, anger and adrenaline filling her veins and snuffing out her fear. This thing had been haunting her dreams for weeks! It killed this young girl, and it was not going to hurt anybody else. The witch was determined. Water soaking her back, the sorceress fired spell after spell, hitting the target each time.
All the creature did was split into dozens of pieces and form together again. It never faltered or slowed down. It would materialize behind the witch then fly to the ceiling again. The teachers were throwing hexes, but it wasn't doing any good. The thing kept returning, gaining more and more energy. Lights lit up the hallway in a melody of colors, the teachers' shouting echoing in the small space. The creature vanished once again and appeared about twenty feet away. Hermione yelled, pointing her trusty wand at the heart of the creature.
A graceful otter emerged from the tip of her weapon, swirling through the air. It circled around the shadow, illuminating the corridor with an impossible glow. Breathing hard, Hermione watched as her Patronus extinguished the creature. A terrible, ear-splitting squeal echoed throughout the hallway as the shadow melted away, and the scream could be vaguely heard in the Great Hall.
After a burst of light, the shadow was gone, for now. Hermione had tears in her eyes, hating that even though this thing had killed a girl, it was in pain. It could never see light, never feel its warmth. The witch took a deep breath, angry and helpless. She cursed herself. Don't defend the creature Granger, she thought furiously,
Stiffening her shoulders, the sorceress turned to look at her Headmistress. A frown was etched onto the woman's face, and a haunting look in her brown eyes. A look that the Doctor knew too well. An expression that had war, loss, fear and so much more hidden in it. A look that the Time Lord saw every time he glanced in a mirror. Hermione tilted her head up slightly.
"Do I have detention again next Saturday, Headmistress?"
...
She did not, in fact, have detention the following Saturday, but Hermione was punished enough. Her heart was twisted along with her stomach, and the castle was too quiet. Everyone, the teachers, students, people who didn't even know the girl existed mourned. Black was draped throughout the school for days leading up to the funeral. It was honorary, respectful, and extremely heartbreaking. The girl's family made an appearance on their way to collect the body; her moms and three brothers. The family walked away from the Great Hall with tears streaming down their faces.
The girl was named Ellie MacDonald. She was a second year, top of her class. Muggleborn, bright, and Ellie always had a book in her hand. Actually, not very far from where Hermione found Ellie laid a book. Hogwarts: A History was shredded, several of its pages missing. She had been hurrying to the Great Hall, trying to get to the feast, and the thing had appeared and chased her down the hallway. At least, that's the scene that woke Hermione up everyday. The witch's heard would be pounding, tears staining her cheeks. She can never go back to sleep after that.
No one really knew who started the rumors, but people were comparing the two girls in the corridor an awful lot. They had so many similar traits, they even had the same thick hair and brown eyes. Although, Ellie's hair was more tame. What if, the students speculated, the creature killed the MacDonald girl because she was so much like the famous Hermione Granger? After all, she got away, and that creature had to have been angry. What if that poor, poor girl's death happened solely because the two girls had so much in common?
Hermione asked herself these questions every night before she went to bed. And she did blame herself, on different levels every time she reviewed that night in her head. The witch had circles under her eyes, and her homework wasn't as magnificent as it usually was. The teachers didn't give her too much leeway. At first, the professors sympathized, telling her it would be okay. But now, it had been two and a half weeks, the sorceress needed to get over it or else she'd really fall behind.
Smith and Donna were the only ones who gave her a break. They let her work at her own pace and turn things in late. They saw the horror behind the wall the witch built. They understood the guilt and blame all too well. They hated the way Hermione stopped answering questions in class, the energy disappearing from her face so easily. And that was a main reason why Donna scheduled another mini tea party, to get the girl's mind off of the incident.
The Doctor was proud of himself. He got the witch to laugh exactly three times over an hour and a half. And, with all things considering, that was very good. Hermione barely drank her tea, and she didn't even touch her cake. The Doctor noticed the hollowness in the teenager's cheeks, and he hated it. What did this girl do to deserve this life? She had fought in a war already, and now Hermione was facing another, smaller one. It was eating her away, and the Doctor was legibly frightened at what that could do to the witch.
"Hermione." The Time Lord leaned forward, after another awkward silence, his hands joining together, "It-"
"Don't say it Doctor." She was switching back from "Doctor" and "Professor" quite often. But the witch was steadily calling the skinny man "Doctor" more and more. "Don't you dare say it, or I will hex your nose off."
Her eyes burned, and she looked away from the man in front of her. He didn't understand, how could he? This twig didn't get how horrible it was to be too late, to know that if her feet would've moved a bit faster; that girl would still be alive. Hermione's chest clenched painfully, and tears threatened to spill over. She wouldn't let them. The witch couldn't cry, not now. Not in front of this man who didn't understand how it feels to let a life be taken away.
The Time Lord didn't even flinch. He grabbed the girl's chin and forced her to look up. His eyes flickered back and forth, burning with intensity. "It. Was. Not. Your. Fault. No one is to blame except for that thing. I can promise you Hermione, I promise you, there was nothing you could've done."
"Yes there was." She muttered, her eyes filled with angry tears. The witch pulled away from her teacher, "Of course there was. There's always something to be done, a way to help. I was just too late. I didn't run quick enough."
Hermione set her teacup on the desk, done with the conversation. A thought of a certain hidden passageway crept into her mind, somewhere nice and quiet. Where no one could stare at her. Right then, it sounded like heaven. The witch stood up, her eyes itchy with unshed tears.
"Thank you for the tea, but I have to go. Homework and all." Both of her teachers' faces fell, sadness creeping into their eyes. The friends glanced at each other before staring sadly at their student.
The witch nodded her head slightly, avoiding eye contact. She grabbed her bag and walked towards the door that Hermione strolled through so many times. Her chest ached, and the witch really needed to be alone. A place were no one could judge her, whisper behind her back. A sanctuary. Hermione needed a sanctuary.
A hand grabbed her wrist, and the teenager whirled around, her heart thumping loudly. Smith was there, a frown carved into the young but ancient face. The witch sniffed, wiping at her nose. She felt her cheeks go red as a tear slipped over one of them. Great, she thought, caught crying in front of a teacher. As if this wasn't awkward enough.
The teacher handed his student a handkerchief that was decorated with pink flowers. The witch laughed slightly, gladly taking the cloth. She dabbed at her eyes, but a dam inside the young woman started to crack. Swallowing back sobs that Hermione had held for two and a half weeks, she turned to leave again.
Smith grabbed her shoulders and pulled the witch into his chest. Hermione didn't pull away, extremely grateful for the embrace and comfort. Her skinny hands gripped his forearms, her nails digging into his brown suit. All of the rage and helplessness, all the sorrow and horror, the delayed shock flowed from her eyes and onto the Doctor's chest. His cheek rested on the top of the witch's bushy head. Hermione cried quietly, and his hearts clenched painfully.
The Doctor held the brilliant witch from one of his favorite stories. He let this girl fall apart, determined to help put her back together again. He could tell the teenager was embarrassed, but the Time Lord didn't think there was any shame in crying when tears needed to be shed. Although, he wished that he didn't need to comfort the girl. She trembled under his grip, and he gently rocked back and forth.
"It's okay Hermione." His voice caught slightly, and he could hear the uncertainty behind his own words. The man knew that in both of their lives, it wouldn't always be okay. He balled his hands into fists, "It's okay, you'll be alright."
The Astronomy teacher kissed Hermione's forehead and tightened his hold on his friend. Donna was next to them, rubbing the witch's back, comforting her with low words. The witch reached out and grabbed the redhead's hand, seeking comfort from her best friends. The three of them had wet eyes and heavy hearts. The Doctor knew that this wasn't the only problem that they were going to have with their little shadow creature, and he hoped that Hermione would be ready for the challenge.
But with the amount of bravery that was demonstrated already through the young witch, the Time Lord knew that she'd be more than ready. Which was good, because the Doctor needed that witch just as much as she needed him.