If you asked Hermione what went on the rest of the train ride to Hogwarts, she could honestly say she didn't know. She was too numb to really listen to any of the conversation that occurred, but not oblivious to the gazes she received from everyone.
Especially from Rabastan.
Hermione's quick brain was able to determine that he was the reason Penthesilea and Mrs. Malfoy weren't talking anything beyond civility. Or more specifically their engagement was the reason they weren't speaking. Hermione knew that there was a rift between the women but she didn't think for a moment that it could have something to do with a betrothal; and by the looks of it, a forced engagement on both sides. But why of all people did it have to be Rabastan Lestrange?
She shuddered slightly at the thought of marrying such a brutal man; such a malicious, evil, horrible abomination of human life. A man who along with his brother, sister-in-law and friend, mercilessly tortured the Longbottoms into incurable insanity; a sweet, innocent couple that had her friend Neville. The worst thing about it was that if she really wanted to keep up appearances before she completed her mission, then she may very well have to go through with it. She only hoped that their Pureblood supremacy was as strongly intact as it looked, so that maybe disinheritance was a very real possibility. But then again that would make her mission harder.
Destroy Voldemort and save as many lives as she could. That was why she was here. That's all. If she had to sacrifice bits of herself along the way she'd do it.
When the time came for them to change into their robes, the girls and boys went their separate ways. Conversation with Narcissa was thankfully sparse and did not consist of the surprising incident that happened not only an hour ago. They spoke little and only of trivial things such as what Hermione should expect when she reached Hogwarts. All that was explained Hermione already knew, but she would confess to being curious each time Slytherin was mentioned. It seemed that as with all Pure Blooded families, that Penthesilea was also assumed to be sorted into Slytherin House.
Oh, were they in for a disappointing shock!
But still, Hermione didn't know where she stood with Narcissa. Sometimes, Hermione believed that under different circumstances, they could have been friends and that maybe, if fate would allow it, they could be now. But there were also times where Narcissa would look at Hermione with a nasty glint in her eyes that demonstrated the wicked woman she would one day become.
In Hermione's experiences, people with an evil gleam in their eye that's directed towards you usually don't have your best interests at heart.
"We'll be very closely related," Narcissa mused aloud as they walked back to the compartment. "I will marry Lucius, making us sister-in-laws, and my sister has recently married Rabastan's older brother, which again would make us very closely related."
"Sister?" Hermione queried innocently, but through gritted teeth and clenched fists.
If Narcissa noticed, she didn't mention it. "Bellatrix Black. Or Lestrange now, I suppose."
They spoke no more before entering their compartment and meeting the boys.
When the train finally reached its destination, Hermione was relieved. Putting up with the constant formalities and guarded replies that filled the conversations around her was boring, and believe it or not dizzying. Their double meanings and evasive, but simple language was enough to give even Rowena Ravenclaw whiplash. For a Slytherin, one must always be on your guard and never be vulnerable. She missed Gryffindor already.
As Hermione went to collect her things, she noticed Rabastan had her luggage already nestled in his broad arms and shot her what she believed was supposed to be a charming smile. Remembering her manners she thanked him and followed him off of the train. Lucius insisted he assist her down the steps, in case she grew weak and collapsed onto the tracks. She wished to scold him for his worrying, but couldn't bring herself to when she saw his genuinely concerned eyes and gave into his simple though unreasonable request. After all, she wasn't an invalid.
She still didn't miss the glare she received from Narcissa.
They walked along the platform silently and Hermione was grateful she didn't have to carry her share of the burden as her arms were becoming lead in Lucius' and her legs started to feel wobbly at the knees. She only prayed that the blonde beside her didn't notice or she knew a panic fit would arise in him, so she continued to push herself. When they finally reached the carriages, she breathed a sigh of relief and felt herself relax. Thankful that Lucius would be able to boost her up into the carriage, Hermione stepped forward, eager to sit down, but something she saw made her stop in her tracks.
In front of the carriage were two large giant horse-hybrids. They were larger than the average horse, but then again, horses didn't have bat wings, skeletal bodies or reptilian facial features either. It had fangs that were barely contained in its mouth, giving a vicious feel to the creature. Its long, sturdy tail that looked like it could snap you in half with merely a flick, if you got in the way of it. And it had long, greyish hair that Hermione knew the Elder Wand was made of. The creature spoke of pure power that could overwhelm even the most able-bodied of men. But in its eyes, Hermione saw a sadness that she didn't know was possible to possess.
It was a Thestral.
She had never seen one before now. Sure she had ridden one before but she had never laid eyes on one.
Suddenly every death that she'd ever witnessed flashed through her eyes, and pain squeezed her chest in an almost agonizing grip. She almost stopped breathing as a sudden realization hit her. After seeing so much death, understanding it to the point of acceptance, it was barely even a shock to her anymore. Perhaps, some deep, dark part of her heart welcomed it.
"Silea," Lucius prompted, gesturing to the carriage steps.
She gave a shaky nod before accepting his help getting into the carriage. Whether from shock of the Thestral or her weakness she wasn't sure, her legs gave out on her on the highest step and she gave a small squeak of surprise.
She waited for impact against the hard floor, but instead found herself with an arm wrapped securely around her torso, pulling her the rest of the way up. She breathed a sigh of relief as her feet were firmly placed on the floor and turned to her rescuer. She wasn't sure whether she was surprised or not when she saw it was Snape. They locked eyes and Hermione couldn't help but cringe at the familiar blackness within them.
She was suddenly assaulted with the reminder of the Professor Snape she knew and despised. He was cruel, vindictive, overly harsh and to be perfectly blunt, an outright bastard. But she suddenly saw him in a different light. The boy before her was no different from her. He was young and smart, albeit influenced with bad choices, and a rather skilled practitioner in potions and Dark Arts. She saw a boy who would grow up unsure of what he believed in, but would die saving the lives of those considered inferior to him by his friends.
She saw a brave man who if given the chance could become so much more than a Death Eater.
"Thank you," she said softly, subtly showing gratitude for all his sacrifices.
His eyes widened slightly, whether he was able to sense her deeper meaning or if manners were completely dead she wasn't sure, but he gave a nod of acknowledgment before turning a deaf ear to her brother's incessant appreciation.
After her brother was worn and tired of the subject of Snape's rescue, he turned to his sister and berated her for not telling him she was feeling weak. He insisted that the moment they arrived at the castle they would head to the Hospital Wing, despite her constant assurances that she was perfectly well, and her pleas of wanting to see Hogwarts fell on deaf ears.
It was Narcissa who came to her defense and recommended that Hermione see the Headmaster first before anything else, then go to the start of year feast and then, depending on Hermione's health, she would be personally escorted by Narcissa to the Hospital Wing.
Lucius grumbled something in defeat that sounded suspiciously like 'woe to man' before slapping Regulus across the head because he had deemed him 'whipped'.
The rest of the ride continued on in a similar fashion, the boys were slightly less formal with each other but they always held each other at arms lengths away from each other. Even Snape cracked a few smiles and Hermione wondered if Snape had somehow tortured someone without her noticing. When seeing no one, she shrugged and settled back in her seat. Maybe even Snape can smile without the need for malicious entertainment.
When Hogwarts came into sight, Hermione couldn't contain her smile of childish glee. She felt like she was coming home for the first time in years; which, technically, was true. She was seventeen when Snape took over as Headmaster and twenty one when she came back to this time. She thanked Merlin for the aging potion she took, otherwise that would have been hard to explain. But looking at this castle brought back every memory she had of the place, happy and sad alike. But due to the deaths of the many people involved, all of her happy memories held a twinge of pain anyway.
"Silea? Are you alight?" Lucius asked.
Hermione looked at him with a confused expression, wondering what would possess him to ask such a question, until he wiped tears from her face with his fingers.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, brushing his hand away and removing the tears herself. "It's a dream come true. I'm finally at Hogwarts!" she improvised.
The look of delightful glee that filled his face was bright enough to light up the dark pathway leading towards the castle and she suddenly didn't feel so guilty in lying to him.
She noticed the same look from Narcissa again and also saw Snape giving her a new look. Although Snape was hard to read and usually stoic, she could tell he was making a very strong opinion of her, she just didn't know if it would work in her favor or not.
She said farewell to the boys and Narcissa, and before she knew it, she was being escorted to the Headmasters office, Lucius leading her through the hallways. As they walked in silence, Hermione was mentally criticizing all the things that were different from then and now, which if she wanted to be entirely truthful, nothing was. It was still rural and simple, yet majestic in its own right.
She was greeted with many curious looks by the few students that were away from the Great Hall entrance, portraits started whispering to each other behind beautifully decorated fans and even a few ghosts paused in their strolls to ponder her presence. She even passed by Nearly Headless Nick who bowed slightly to her and offered his most jovial greetings, much to Hermione's pleasant surprise but to Lucius' chagrin. Upon reaching a familiar golden statue, Lucius fumbled around in his pocket for a moment before procuring a small piece of parchment saying Sugar Quills. He gave her a bizarre look before vocalizing the password and helping his sister ascend the stairs.
Hermione forced herself to breathe deeply, trying not to panic. Her heart was beating wildly and her breathing seemed labored. Dear Merlin! What was she thinking? She couldn't do this! She couldn't go in there and lie to her old Headmaster! She couldn't even face him! But she knew that if she collapsed and told him everything; her history and future plans, that he'd find a way to send her back with the click of his fingers. She couldn't risk that, especially since she only had one shot.
She quickly put a lid on her emotions and slid Penthesilea's mask over her face, ready to face one of the first steps of her self-created destiny.
Hermione entered the Headmasters office with her head held high and her face stoic. She reminded herself that she had to do this, it was for her friends. Her mission was her new life and she could not fail. Her eyes quickly danced around the room looking for any changes in décor, and while she found nothing overly obvious, there were small, insignificant details that were not worth her time pondering over.
"Headmaster," Lucius' voice greeted, unintentionally interrupting his sister's observations. "This is my sister, Penthesilea. We came right here just as you asked," he concluded, his voice polite and civil, but Hermione couldn't detect the usual respect one held in their tone when speaking to the powerful wizard. Then again, Lucius never really did display much respect towards anyone that he wasn't afraid of.
Don't look into his eyes, she reminded herself.
After taking a calming breath, she turned her gaze to the Headmaster who was peering at her curiously from over his half-moon spectacles. His eyes locked with hers and Hermione instantly averted her artificial grey orbs to look towards her brother. She prayed that in those few seconds he hadn't attempted any form of Legilimens, but highly doubted it, as she didn't feel any probing in her mind. However she couldn't be certain - he wasn't the most powerful wizard of the century and perhaps all time for nothing.
He looked the same as he did when she last saw him, twenty years hadn't changed him much at all; a remarkable feat considering he was currently living through a war, already been through one and would soon enter another, a more perilous and definite one. He still wore his antique, velvet robes that seemed beyond peculiar on his frame, but then again he was always slightly odd to all whom had the honor of meeting him. Glancing from the corner of her eyes, Hermione spied a familiar, yet not as brightly lit, twinkle in her Headmaster's eyes.
They were invited to sit and Hermione did so gingerly, allowing Lucius to lower her into the seat and making sure she was stable, never releasing her hand before sitting down himself - something the Headmaster didn't miss. After an offer and decline of some Lemon Drops, the bearded man spoke.
"Mr. Malfoy," his voice filled the room, "I believe you will be looked for at the feast. I'm sure you have missed your friends from the long summer absence. I will escort Miss Malfoy to the Great Hall once we are finished," Dumbledore offered, dismissing her fake brother.
Dear Merlin… that was the first time she'd admitted, albeit mentally, that the man in front of her really was Dumbledore; and a very alive one at that.
Breathe…breath. She kept reminding herself.
Lucius opened his mouth to retort but seemed to remember whom he was speaking to and lowered the forcefulness of his voice. "I met with them all on the Hogwarts Express, Headmaster. I can see them all later," Lucius assured him, shooting her a concerned glance as he continued to hold her hand tightly; even more so at the mention that he should leave.
The Headmaster smiled not unkindly. "I'm sure she will want to know where she is to sit after her sorting," he tried.
Lucius' chest puffed up considerably like a rooster, and looked at Penthesilea adoringly. "She will be the Princess of Slytherin."
Hermione could barely contain her eye roll. Not on my watch, she thought.
The two men seemed ready to start a low key argument before Hermione intervened.
"Lucius," she said, noticing his flinch but not commenting. "Narcissa will probably wish to see you soon, don't hold back just because of me."
He opened his mouth about to violently retort to her subtle mention of being a burden, but her small smile snapped his mouth shut and with a farewell and a kiss to her forehead he was gone.
The two remaining in the room sat in silence for a while, both waiting for the other to speak. Hermione fiddled with the hem of her robes, anxiously waiting for Dumbledore to say something. When it became obvious that his new student would not initiate a conversation, Dumbledore did so. Well, he attempted to.
"Miss Malfoy-"
"Silea," Hermione automatically corrected. The Headmaster looked surprised and cocked his head to the side. "My name is Silea."
The Headmaster smiled, the twinkle in his eyes growing. "I would have thought it was Penthesilea."
Hermione scoffed slightly. "A name I don't like. It's Silea."
Truth was, Hermione liked the name Penthesilea very much, hence one of the reasons she chose it. But Luna seemed to have a sense of humor and according to everyone's memories she would level a death glare at any who said it. So she had to go along with the act.
"Well, Miss Silea, I would like to talk to you about your attendance at Hogwarts. Because your health is so unpredictable, we have given you your own quarters, within reasonable walking distance from the Hospital Wing - should you ever need it. You will, of course, be able to stay in your common room, but the quarters are where your parents would prefer you to stay. Your classes were chosen by your parents; Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration and Divination."
"I'm not doing Divination," Hermione blurted out before her mind could stop herself.
Uh-oh, what if Luna's humor went too far and she made it so that Penthesilea loves Divination? Dear Merlin, what if she even made her a seer! Oh, she'd murder her.
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows but didn't show any signs of shock. "I beg your pardon?"
Hermione weighed it mentally for a second, thinking back to her third year as a clear image of the fraud Professor Trelawney appeared in her mind and she inwardly shivered.
"I will do anything but Divination."
The twinkle in his eyes grew even more, almost blinding, but her indirect eye contact was making it difficult to discern its origins or if it really even was getting brighter.
"Your parents were reluctant for you to have five classes, they only wanted you to have four - would you be willing to drop Divination completely?"
Unsatisfied, Hermione argued with Dumbledore for many minutes, babbling on about how she came to Hogwarts to learn, and dropping subjects instead of replacing them was not going to teach her anything but cowardice. She swore that the more she spoke, the more excited Dumbledore seemingly became, but skillfully hid it as he insisted the she would learn something in Divination; which off course set Hermione into a rant about how the class was useless and a load of poppycock. In the end, Hermione conceded defeat on the terms that if she did not like the class after one (Which Dumbledore bumped up to three - manipulative old man) weeks she could change her subject.
Her class schedule was given to her and she was finally satisfied. After voicing this fact, Dumbledore announced their departure to the Great Hall, grabbing the Sorting Hat on their way out. Hermione had barely made it down the spiral steps when her legs gave out and collapsed on her, but Dumbledore's quick reflexes had her levitating down to the bottom of the staircase gently with wandless and wordless magic. She looked at her old/new Headmaster in awe, and couldn't help but notice the slight differences, but she had no time to compare them as he pulled her up gently from the floor and held his arm out to escort her.
"Let's hope not to repeat that, My Lady," he said in amusement, surprising Hermione with the teasing in his tone.
She smiled and nodded, accepting his arm and they walked silently into the Great Hall. Their entrance was barely noticed as the first years had gathered attention from their new amused upper classmates, with some even wondering if they looked that stunned by the Great Hall's majestic beauty when they themselves were first years.
Dumbledore worked his way through the crowd and stopped at the end of the first year's line, telling Hermione that she was to be sorted with them. She nodded in agreement before he went up to his pedestal and demanded the attention of the students. As every other year, she listened to the Headmaster intently.
"To our newcomers," said Dumbledore in a ringing voice, stretching his hands wide with a beaming smile on his face, "welcome! To those returning, welcome back! Let the sorting begin!"
As every year before, the tear in the Sorting Hat formed into a mouth and it began to sing, bewildering the first years even more, much to the amusement of the rest of the staff and students. Hermione briefly wondered if perhaps during the school year, while having no apparent purpose, if the hat spent it's time leisurely trying to think up a song for the next year. But then again, there were some pretty useful predictions made in previous years; a few of which even helped the Golden Trio.
Don't be silly and think I can't see your doubt,
I see quite clearly the traitor in your heart.
You stray from fate and take no true route,
But rest assured you'll play your part.
Hermione's eyes widened, swearing that during that verse the Sorting Hat had been speaking of her. Her heart thumped in her chest when its folds acting as eyes seemed to pierce into her own with an all knowing stare.
You know where you should be,
And you know what you shall see,
Yet here you are, you sticky bee.
Fear not! What you'll be - rests with me.
Hermione felt herself start to asphyxiate. Dear Merlin, it was talking about her. She was not oblivious to the double meanings, but a quick glance around the room informed her that everyone else was none the wiser. But her heart still pounded as one thought kept running through her head. Dumbledore's not stupid.
Step on up and take a seat!
I'll tell you where you'll go,
I'm sure your heart just skipped a beat!
Don't fret - they'll help you grow!
Hermione couldn't see any innuendoes in that verse and her heart notably relaxed but she kept her ears open wary of what it might say next.
My dear master Gryffindor may see you fit,
If you have a courageous fire alit.
Your stubborn but brave, that's sure to say,
If that's you, I know we're you'll stay.
If you are my dear friend a Hufflepuff,
You're patient and loyal and by no means unkind.
You are no poorer than the others,
And I'm sure you'll love your new brothers.
Ravenclaws are wise and Witty,
Loving books is a pleasure, not a pity.
If learning fast and learning much is your must,
I'd say you have a Ravenclaw's touch.
If your Slytherin side is your dominate side,
I'm sure you've got a cunning pride.
These sly fellows will go above and beyond,
Think like them, then, you, they'll be fond.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
for I'm a Thinking Cap!
Cheers broke out in the Hall and Hermione was sure that if it could, the Sorting Hat would be bowing at the standing ovation. Professor McGonagall stood up, and just like Hermione's first real year called out the names on her list.
As the line moved forward, her eyes caught Lucius and his friend. She noticed that there were a few others she did not recognise, but she knew she probably wouldn't get to meet them if her plan went smoothly. She saw, with a pang of guilt, that they had saved a spot for her, in between Lucius and Narcissa; although Narcissa looked seemed remarkably unhappy with the distance she sat from her betrothed. The Gryffindor looked away and didn't bother looking back at the Slytherins, instead, opting to look at her true table.
The Gryffindors were watching the sorting intently, cheering loudly and welcoming with each newcomer as well as politely clapping for the additions to the surrounding houses (Except Slytherin). She caught the eyes of the Marauders, and was astounded to see they were looking at her in anticipation. Even Peter was jumping in his seat trying to make his smaller frame noticeable, causing her lips to tilt upwards the smallest bit, despite herself. Sirius was grinning charmingly at her in a way that would make all girls swoon and she couldn't refrain from laughing a little. And Remus was waving, but it seemed that he only did so, on account of James gripping the werewolf's arm and failing it around, thus forcing it to flap around like a fish out of water. But James' face of delight and his excited expression seemed to make Remus' annoyance less prominent.
"Malfoy, Penthesilea," Professor McGonagall called.
She saw the Marauders faces drop significantly, and their shoulders sag as disbelief entered their features, even hurt and betrayal forming in their once trusting eyes. She looked away, facing the Sorting Hat, and gathering her Gryffindor courage, walked up to the stool. The Great Hall had gone deafly quiet and Hermione swallowed at the thickness in the air. It was suddenly very hard to breath.
She sat on the stool elegantly, refusing to look weak in front of so many people, strangers and even a few Death Eaters in-training. Professor McGonagall gave Hermione a tight lipped smile, and placed the Hat on her head. Instantly, a familiar voice entered her mind.
Ahhh, it's been awhile Miss Granger. I must confess it is very unusual for one to have a sorting twice in their lifetime; you're very lucky indeed.
Hermione scoffed, luck had nothing to do with it. It was desperation.
The Hat seemed to laugh at her thoughts. Yes, your reasoning is even queerer. Changing history? That is very, very illegal. A very bold move indeed, my master Gryffindor would be proud to have you in his house again, my dear. Your decision?
"I will forever be a Gryffindor at heart," she whispered almost inaudibly.
That is no secret to me, my dear. You forget I can see everything in your mind. I know everything about you and your history. Very well, I hope for all our sakes, you succeed. If you should ever need anything, you may come to me. I will do what I can.
The hat's declaration, "Gryffindor!" sounded into the room.
Unlike the others, Hermione did not receive cheers or welcoming handshakes, but was instead greeted with stunned silence and awkward glances. She couldn't blame them; a Malfoy, in Gryffindor? Unspeakable! As McGonagall removed the Sorting Hat from her head, Hermione noticed the surprise in the woman's eyes and that they had lost their hardness from before, to be replaced by a softened expression.
Despite this, the newly appointed Gryffindor held her head up, and walked with her wobbly knees to her table and sat next to a girl, roughly her age and smiled at her. Aware of the eyes still trained on her and ears listening in unashamedly, she held out her hand and spoke for the entire Hall to hear.
"I'm Silea. It's nice to meet you."
The girl looked astounded, absolutely in shock. She seemed to snap out of it quickly when she noticed her blatant staring.
"Alice," she replied shakily, accepting Hermione's cool hand.
"May I sit?" the Time Traveller asked.
Looking even more shocked that a Pureblood Malfoy had asked something polite and not at all begrudgingly seemed to make the girl go numb.
"You may."
Hermione sat down with a smile to the surrounding girls, all of which had similar expressions of astonishment, although it didn't hide some of their prejudiced disgust.
Ignoring, or perhaps oblivious to the rooms newfound tension, Dumbledore stood up with his usual cheer, and ever more so twinkling eyes to announced: "There is a time for speech-making, and this is not it. Tuck in!"
