Chapter Four: Candor

Candor's chambers were dark and severe, like a smaller and more dimly-lit version of the hall the Choosing Ceremony was held in. There was a platform in the center for the initiate, and a lectern across from that, where the questioner would stand. Hermione's was Robert, a tall black man with a severely pointed chin and luminous, piercing eyes. Hermione wondered if, under his gaze, she would even need the truth serum.

Nonetheless, she endured the pinch at her neck. As they waited for the serum to take effect, her fellow initiates filed in, dressed in black and white. Robert had explained that it was important for Hermione to reveal her secrets to those who mattered most, which were the people she'd be studying, working and living with. "There are a few select others, as well," Robert said. Then: "I think you're ready, now."

Hermione walked unwillingly to the platform. Remember, you can erase it all, she thought.

"Good afternoon, Hermione," Robert said, pitching his voice somewhat louder, to include the assembled in their conversation. "Since you are Dauntless-born, you might not know how this works. We proceed chronologically, starting with your early life, in several sessions. For most initiates, it takes three sessions. But if you have many secrets, or if you resist telling the truth, the process can take longer." He paused. "I'd recommend you not resist. It's painful, and only prolongs the inevitable."

Hermione nodded.

"Are you apprehensive about being questioned?"

"Yes," Hermione said.

"The serum must be working. If you said you weren't nervous, we'd know you needed a second dose."

His questions weren't particularly hard at first. Hermione admitted to wetting her pants on the first day of school, and to stealing chocolate from the lunchbox of a girl she didn't like. When she hesitated to speak, there was an odd feeling of discomfort in her body – not pain exactly, but her muscles stiffened and her stomach roiled, almost like the precursor to throwing up. As if the truth were coming up like toxic food her body had to rid itself of.

Not as embarrassing, but more difficult emotionally, were questions about her family. Did she really love her parents equally? How often did she lie to her parents, and about what? Hermione admitted she probably loved her mother a little more than her father, and to telling them white lies – mostly about things that happened in school, whether she'd been in trouble.

"Harry and Ron led me into a lot of trouble I wouldn't have gotten into by myself," she admitted. "Things I probably wouldn't have been doing if I were spending time with Lavender Brown or the Patil twins." Then she added, "The thing that happened in my second year at Hogwarts, though, -"

No! Don't bring that up!

"— that was all me," she finished. Privately, she marveled at the effectiveness of the truth serum: she couldn't seem to keep her mouth shut even when she knew it was wisest.

"What thing in your second year?"

"I don't want to talk about that."

"That's the entire point of this exercise, Hermione," Robert said. "To talk about those things." He tapped a finger against the lectern. "What happened?"

"Ron's younger sister, Ginny, came to school as a first-year," Hermione began. "She followed us around, and she had this obvious crush on Harry."

"Why did that bother you?"

"That year, I had a little bit of a thing for Harry. It didn't last; Ron eventually became my boyfriend. Ginny and Harry actually got together, too. In time."

Robert cleared his throat. He knew she was stalling.

Hermione said, "I did something to get Ginny in trouble." She paused. "I found this book – a diary. It was animate, I mean, had its own brain powering it. We were supposed to turn anything like that in to the teachers."

"But you didn't?"

"I left it where Ginny could find it," Hermione said. "She did, too, and started reading it, and writing in it. I – I just wanted someone to find out, and for Ginny to get in trouble."

"Did she?"

"Not right away," Hermione said. "And the diary wasn't animated by just anyone. It was –"

This was the hard part. She stopped, and in response, the serum's effects kicked into high gear. Her muscles seized up, and there were shooting pains up her spinal column. She twisted her shoulders, and tears welled in her eyes.

"Let it out, Hermione," Robert said.

"It was animated by Lord Voldemort!" Low gasps and rustling came from the crowd, but the pain eased. "Back when he was a student named Tom Riddle."

"What happened next?"

"Riddle was gaining power from Ginny's use of the diary, the emotion she was pouring into it." She paused again, making the pain turn into electric shocks. "Then Riddle used that power to start attacking those who weren't pure-blood." Hermione could hear herself sounding out of breath, as though she had been running. "He turned a student to stone."

Robert said, "At that point, did you display candor? Did you tell the teachers what you'd done?"

Hermione clamped her lips tightly together. Pain shot through her, to every last nerve ending. "No!" she gasped. "I thought I wouldn't just get in trouble at school, I thought I'd get sent to Azkaban!"

"Even though being candid might have saved this student?"

Hermione bit her lip as pain lanced through her. "Yes. I knew that, and I still kept quiet to save myself. I'm so sorry." The pain notched back again. "Then Riddle turned me to stone, too, and it was too late. At least until Harry figured it out.

Robert said, "After Harry resolved everything, did you tell people what you'd done?"

"No," Hermione said.

"So Ginny took the sole blame for not turning the diary in?"

"Yes." A tear fell from her lower lashes.

"Ah. And when you and Ron became intimate, then did you tell him what you'd done to his sister?"

"No."

"Have you and Ginny become friends, since?"

"Yes," Hermione said. Knowing what he was going to ask next, she forged ahead: "I never told her, either. I've never told anyone this story. Until now."

Unexpectedly, Robert smiled. "And that is the point of this initiation. You might have carried this secret all your life, but now you don't have to, because we," he indicated the people watching, "carry it with you."

Hermione looked at the faces in the dimness. She'd never thought of the Candor initiation that way.

"Thank you for your candor," Robert said.

"Thank you for your candor," the crowd echoed.

Robert seemed nicer afterward. He sat with Hermione in a private room while she cried herself out.

"Everyone cries after, don't worry," Robert said.

"Even Dauntless-born?"

"Even Dauntless-born."

"It feels so good to have that secret out in the open." It did, too. She felt like she'd had a deep-tissue massage.

When Hermione was composed, he gave her directions to the cafeteria, where, as she half-expected –

"Hermione!"

"The smartest-ever member of Dauntless! As I live and breathe!"

Fred and George descended on her like the hurricane of fun and goodwill they'd always been. She hugged both of them, and they accompanied her to the cafeteria line.

"How is the food here?" It was becoming a surprisingly important question.

"Pretty good," Fred told her. "Because if something's not good, the cooks hear about it."

"From everybody."

"And they hear what we think is wrong," Fred continued, "and that helps them fix it."

"The secret ingredient is … honesty," George intoned, like a TV commercial.

Hermione helped herself to a half-serving of spaghetti and meatballs and a glass of milk, and followed the twins to a table. After they'd gotten the news from Dauntless, George said, "Your first session went pretty well. We've seen a lot worse."

Hermione almost choked. "You were there?"

"Yeah, because we know you," Fred said. "It's easy to be honest with strangers who don't have a reason to care about your secrets," George added. "Having loved ones there is what makes it hard."

"And meaningful," Fred added.

Hermione took a sip of milk before asking, "So, when I was talking about Tom Riddle's diary -?"

"We both thought that was a shitty thing to do to Ginny," George said.

Hermione blinked at the bluntness of it, then realized, Well, this is Candor. They can't lie to spare my feelings. On the heels of that thought, she realized something else: he'd said it matter-of-factly. Undoubtedly, he and Fred had told many equally blunt truths to Candor people, and heard them as well. It took the sting out. In all the other factions, you had to screw up your nerve to say, "You did a shitty thing," and then there'd be a long, fraught conversation afterward. Here it was an everyday thing: You did a shitty thing, we all have at one point or another, let's move on. Spaghetti in the cafeteria today, I hear.

That was really quite nice.

Trying out this new way of thinking and speaking, she asked, "You guys want to hear another secret? One that didn't come up yet?"

Fred shrugged, and George said, "Sure."

"I'm divergent."

"Whoa." That was both of them.

"It's undoubtedly going to come out in the last session," Hermione pointed out. "Robert will say something like, 'Are there any other secrets my questions didn't cover?' and the serum won't let me stay quiet about it."

Fred studied her with great interest. "Then why'd you choose to come here, knowing your secret would come out?"

Hermione searched for an answer that didn't involve lying outright, but didn't reveal her illicit possession of a time-turner. "Being a judge appeals to me," she said. "What would I do in Dauntless? Tinker with the fear landscapes? Administer the aptitude test?"

They both seemed to understand that. Hermione added, "I can't be the first divergent whose secret was revealed in the initiation, can I?"

The twins looked at each other. George said, "We wouldn't know. We haven't seen that many initiations."

An idea began to trouble Hermione. "What if someone did reveal themselves in the initiation, and then a bunch of Candor people knew about it. If directly asked, wouldn't one of those people have to give up the divergent's identity?"

"Yes," Fred told her. "Though if they're not asked outright, they can withhold information. If they feel it's justified."

"And even if they are asked," George added, "a Candor member can say, 'I don't feel that's a fair question, because I don't think divergents are dangerous.' That's better than just giving up a name, although it could bring down some heat on that particular member of Candor."

"Or the whole faction," Fred put in.

Hermione thought about that, winding a strand of spaghetti around her fork. She wondered if Candor was, in fact, hiding divergents from the government, knowing what the cost to them could be. You could call Dauntless the home of brave, but make no mistake, these people had guts.

Then George said, "I bet divergents just don't come here. Everyone knows what the initiation involves, telling all your secrets. Much safer to hide in Amity, or maybe Abnegation."

Food for thought, Hermione realized. Was she putting herself at risk by coming here? To lighten the mood, she said, "Abnegation's food is dreadful."

"When did you eat Abnegation food?" Fred asked.

"Never mind," Hermione said. She could have told them about the time-turner, really. They'd love it. They used to play tricks of all kinds, and now here was Hermione Granger, the straightest of the straight-laced, gaming the whole faction system.

But what difference did it make, telling them? She was about to erase this whole experience.

"Thank you both," Hermione said, as she reached into her pocket. "For understanding about Ginny and the diary."

The twins exchanged a smile. "We're just glad you weren't there for our initiations," Fred said. And George admitted, "We needed five sessions. Each."

"We tied the record."

Hermione was still laughing as she -

reset

"Matthew Givens."

Back in her seat, Hermione stretched a little, still relaxed in body and mind from revealing her secrets and then crying out all the emotion that had entailed. She realized she was a bit hungry – she hadn't eaten terribly much of either her Erudite or Candor meals. That was one reason to go visit Amity – this time, she'd finally stay long enough to finish lunch.

Was there any other reason to go? What on earth would she do in Amity? Hermione Granger, goatherder? False modesty aside, it seemed like a ridiculous occupation for someone who everyone thought belonged in Erudite.

"Hermione Granger."

She rose and went down to the stage, picked up the knife. One more cut on her palm; one more potential future to try out.

"Amity!"