Harry Potter and the Witch Queen
by TimeLoopedPowerGamer
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Summary: Harry Potter never actually beat Voldemort, but rather fought him to a standstill while Europe burned around them. Finding himself an unwilling part of a dark ritual to send him back in time 20 years, he is surprised to see how Dumbledore reacts to proof of obvious child abuse (Harry's), how 11 year old super-genius and Witch Queen in training Hermione reacts to actually having a socially competent friend (Harry), and how much easier it is to shrug off the insults of munchkins when you're a grizzled war veteran.
But there is one huge problem: being sent back blew out his magic entirely. Just waving his wand knocked him out the first time he tried it. Can Hermione help him though his classes even with his magic almost unusable? Will Harry be able to find the secrets to actually killing the Dark Lord and saving his friends from a horrible future without blowing his cover, or even getting mistaken for the Dark Lord himself? Will Neville Longbottom get better grades than him?
On Content: Canon-Harry lives in a dark world. This one is darker, with evil turned up to 11 and actual adult situations: everyone is more magical and dangerous, witches and wizards are preternaturally attractive and seductive, people are meaner, magical creatures are horrifying and have back stories, Harry has worse mental issues, teenagers are hornier, villains actually torture and kill people before the last book, etc. Rated M for Maliciousness.
Author's Note: I've got a new forum set up on this site to talk to people about the story. Drop by to ask me questions or talk about stuff to other people reading my stories. I'll also be posting stuff about my progress to the next chapter and a whiny excuse if I miss a deadline. See my Profile page for details and a link.
Of course, I still welcome normal reviews, but any questions asked in the forum can receive a public answer that everyone can see. Do both! Or neither! I'll try to answer all questions in a timely manner.
Chapter Seven
Potion master Severus Snape, youngest Potions master in a century, the Head of Slytherin House at Hogwarts (the greatest magical school in all of the United Kingdom) leaned against the inside of his office door and tried not to throw up.
It wasn't the last five nights of drinking, followed by pepper-up potions and his own personal hangover cure every morning, that was doing this to him. Those were perfect and left no negative aftereffects, other than a persistent lightly pine-flavored mouth.
No, it was because this was the day he'd have to face Lily's child and his green eyes. Not James' hellspawn, as he had expected this year; the boy who was raised rich and spoiled, almost definitely dangerously violent, certainly a bully, and surely having already gathered with similar closed-minded Gryffindor friends to help him in his bullying ways. He had expected Albus to place the Potterling with at least a moderately wealthy wizarding household, a Light one for sure, but someone able to care for the young scion as his politically popular and well-connected parents would have.
Until last month's horrible revelation, Snape had been chewing on the thought for almost five years that this, this would be the year that he'd see his hated childhood foe's hideous larva. He had plans, oh yes, Snape had many plans on how to put the arrogant little brat in his place.
But that wasn't to be. Instead, he'd be seeing dearest Lily's poor little boy. Raised without magic. Clothed in rags until a month ago. Abused by muggles in that home where the bearded idiot had sent him. Scum that Albus had spent not even a day looking into. Vile people he'd trusted because, obviously (but only to Albus' mind), no parents would ever hurt a child, let alone one of their own blood. Idiot.
He could have set Albus straight there. Snape's youth had been that of a low-born half-blood. His family home, a virtual shack. His education, a charity scholarship. His father, a muggle who was drunk and violent. His summers, boredom and suffering. But there had also been Lily, dear Lily and her green eyes.
Later, Snape knew that his youth hadn't been some deep, epic tragedy (as he'd thought of it at the time), but just a normal, everyday one. Most muggle-born had it worse, even those rich enough to get invited to Hogwarts – they had two muggle parents after all, and most muggles hated magicals instinctively. Parental emotional bonds only went so far toward countering that natural prejudice. His stomach heaved a little as he tried to clear his mind of emotion once again.
Worst of all, he could have prevented this as easily as Albus or Minerva, who had both failed their own personal tests in this matter. If he could have just checked on the boy, once. If he could have even briefly seen what was happening in that home. Snape knew what would have worked, if only he'd known the child was placed with...muggles: a simple ruse, like asking to test a new magical disguise potion against the wards – that would have shown Snape the kinds of people those muggles were. He should have insisted on knowing where the boy was being kept, instead of relishing his jealous fantasies and remaining intentionally ignorant.
Albus had thought the boy safe. Someone in a warded wizard home couldn't be hurt by muggles because the standard Muggle Repelling wards would keep them out. Everything a wizard would try to do to break in was blocked by the same magical wards the boy's so-called relatives house surely had. And for some reason, he thought there was something extra, some special protection to be gained by having the boy with...Petunia. Snape spat the word out even in his own thoughts.
A normal muggle house, however, could never be simply warded against all muggles, for obvious reasons. The fool had missed that gaping hole – muggles can hurt muggles in their own homes. The fact that, statistically speaking, violence against muggle children almost always came from relatives would have been interesting additional information that might have swayed the old fool – he was merely idealistic, not dirt-stupid. Knowing that extra fact, or at least being reminded of it, Albus would surely have warded Harry to be safe from muggle hands and...all would have been prevented.
Finally successfully emptying his mind of emotions once again, Snape snapped up his magically-supported false personality. He shuddered as guilt and pain sloughed off him, like a snake shedding its old skin. The slick new veneer slid over the rest of his thoughts and covered the front of his mind, that part most easily accessed by Legilimency.
A sneer immediately twisted his face, his head tilted back, and his eyes started looking down his long nose at everything. He was now danger and death, instant violence and sneering power, standing above all and cursing in his thoughts those muggle-born who polluted these halls. The muggle-spawned crotch maggots would soon scurry to class – pathetic, stammering, scared, yet amazed by the magic of this place, this ancient center of learning. Their shining faces would be so like sweat Lily's had been as- No. He was ice and simmering rage and hatred of those...unpure mudbloods.
He combed some fireproofing gel into his hair, arranged his robes once more, and went to do battle with that ever-regenerating, multi-headed beast: eleven-year-old children's ignorance.
He coldly hoped no one lost a finger or an eye this time. The paperwork was horrible when that happened. Pomfrey still sent him death threats on Christmas, written inside those cheery-looking magical holiday cards of hers, all because of his second year at Hogwarts teaching the little brats Potions. He didn't know why she still held such a grudge. They'd found and reattached all of the idiot First Year Ravenclaw class's toes. Eventually.
Hermione had returned for a quick chat Thursday night, leaving the magically sentient grass snakes hidden in her rooms in things the house elves wouldn't try to clean up, like her spare book bag ("What if my primary is lost or damaged? How will I carry all my books?"), behind the clothes hampers, and under stacks of notepaper on her trunk. It was a great relief when she determined that they would be fine without her so long as they stayed inside the castle. She had raced down to the common room to tell him that in a whispered rush and then explained in more detail after everyone had gone to bed and she was able to sneak off to talk to Harry in his room.
"If anything," she said, "they are too energetic now. They won't stop crawling all over the place and I was worried they were going to be found out by my roommates. Then Mr. Adder talked to them in Parseltongue and they finally calmed down. That was when I was able to finally escape my room. But by then it was already late and I decided we could just talk later. So here we are. I hope you have a great topic for tonight?"
"Absolutely. We're going to work on Occlumency," Harry said.
"Oh, that's the thought shielding magic, one of the wandless things we can practice over the Hols and Summer break," Hermione said brightly, snuggling into the blankets around her under the covers. Her face was lit from below by her wand, her smile inches from his own.
"That's right," Harry said. "It's one of the best way to keep your thoughts your own, even in the face of aggressive telepathic spells like those used in Legilimency. Most people don't learn it until they are older, but we need to work on it now because even your surface thoughts could expose some of our secrets."
"Ah," she said, "and tomorrow is the first Potions class, run by the maybe-ex-Death Eater, Professor Snape."
"Right again," Harry said. Hermione smiled wider and wiggled in joy at solving even that simple logical puzzle.
"The very best defense is still not to meet his eyes," he said. "He'd have to verbally cast a stronger spell if you aren't looking him in the eyes. This will also be something you can keep running all the time, even when you are asleep or surprised."
He ran her through the basic meditation and mind clearing exercises, the two of them sitting up and forming a sort of tent under the blankets. They sat quietly in the dark with their backs straight and attempted to clear their minds of thoughts and emotions. After five minutes, Hermione quietly said, "Done."
"Err, what?" Harry said quizzically, losing his focus immediately.
"Hmm? Oh, my mind. It is clear now," she said softly, lighting her wand with a wave and a whispered word. He saw she still had her eyes closed and looked completely relaxed, even the hand holding her wand.
"Err...okay," Harry replied, unsure what she meant. It had taken him months to even briefly achieve the kind of clarity and focus required for Occlumency. He had no idea if she'd really done it, but knowing Hermione that was entirely possible.
"So, uh, the next part is to open your eyes and imagine a wall between your mind, just behind your eyes, and the outside world. Feel your magic fill your head. Pour your magic into the design in your mind and see it solidify into a solid magical wall." Hermione opened her eyes and continued to sit quietly, still powering her lit wand and now staring through Harry. He was about to suggest she keep practicing later and call it a night when she spoke up again.
"Okay, got it," she said, her voice sort of distant.
"Uh. Hermione? It's been ten minutes."
"Oh!" she said, her eyes widening suddenly. "I'm sorry for taking so long. You must want to get to sleep now. Sorry!" She was obviously contrite and bit her lip nervously while looking at him apologetically.
"So. Cute," he thought, trying to focus.
"Hermione," he said, finally recovering from the cuteness coma, "the initial meditation exercises took me months to figure out. It was a year before I finally got the active shields down. If this is working already for you, that would be...amazing. I knew you would most likely have some natural shielding already, but..."
He grinned quickly, then said, "But I also already knew that you're amazing..." Hermione poked him hard in the arm, but she was smiling now.
"Well, how do we test it?" she asked. That was something Harry had spent a lot of time thinking about over the last week.
Harry's mind was not well suited to even basic mental magic. The subtle art of mind reading and Legilimency was virtually impossible for him, even when he'd been a magically healthy adult. However, he had found a very useful, slightly Dark-ish book on Occlumency in Knockturn Alley last month that should help solve his current problem.
It was a translation of the original Old English tome Gebolstrodu Hordlocan – roughly, Guarded Thoughts – an older guide for learning Occlumency that included spells for testing one's own abilities without requiring skill in Legilimency or a partner. Hermione had recommended it to him in the future as it was one that wasn't on the Ministry Banned Books List and thus was more easily found in Europe after the fall – but only because they had forgotten about it as it was an American translation of an obscure title.
The British Ministry didn't like people learning to resist mental scans and truth potions, which explained the general book ban. He realized that Hermione would burn things to cinders with just the power of her mind when she found out about that bit of official magical government censorship, so he decided to delay telling her about that little detail until she was out of his bed.
And at least a county or two away.
And he was talking to her over the telephone.
From a bunker.
In any case, Harry had originally picked it up in Knockturn Alley for some self-study before he knew he'd be telling an eleven-year-old Hermione basically everything. He was sure she'd love to get a chance to read it.
"Ah, that's a problem," he told her. "Legilimency is the usual way to test Occlumency shields. It is a very, very hard skill to learn, borderline illegal, and requires a fairly large amount of power to cast. It also means someone has to try to use it to read your mind, over and over again while you attempt to get your Occlumency shields to work.
"I'm not comfortable with that, really, and learning that way never worked for me – it seems wrong to read someone's mind even to help them learn. I also don't have the talent for it at all and currently not even enough magic to use it even if I did. So I decided that this would be the best way for you to work on your Occlumency." Harry pulled out the small book and handed it to her. She let out a sound like a squirrel being slowly crushed by a pile of tasty acorns – sort of a muffled series of excited, near orgasmic squeaks – as she snatched it out of his hands, opening it and starting to read already.
"That book has some spells you can cast on yourself to tell if your shields are up and working. It also has a section about creating a layer to your shields to protect the existence of your Occlumency itself."
"Thanks so much Harry! I'll read this right away," she said, doing so already.
"Make sure to get some sleep tonight, Hermione," Harry reminded her.
"Yeah, sure," she said vaguely, still reading as she slid out from under the covers. Book still in hand, she canceled the silencing spells with the other and then quietly left the room, still reading.
Waking early Friday morning, Harry decided to wait for her in the common room. Meeting Snape for the first time, again, worried him. At least Hermione didn't have to bring all her snakes to class. The cute little things should be happy to spend the morning soaking up the magical ambiance of the ancient enchanted castle, which solved at least one of their issues. He was sure she'd bring Mr. Adder with her, but that wasn't as big a deal. He was easy enough to hide and could take direct instructions from over their growing Familiar Link if they needed to hide him better for some reason.
Hermione came drifting down the stairs, finally having dragged herself out of bed. Hermione never had been a morning person – she had a bad habit of staying up reading instead of sleeping, and had developed a severe coffee addiction as an adult. He greeted her with the false cheer he knew she hated this early.
"Good morning, Hermione!" he said with a grin on his face. She scowled at him and covered her yawn with one hand, the other trying to get her book bag onto her shoulder. She was always on time to classes in the morning but that didn't mean she liked it.
"Will you join me for breakfast in the Great Hall?" he said, still grinning like a sugar-crazed house elf. Her frown distressingly morphed into a large smile of her own, then she looked thoughtful.
"I don't know, Harry," she said, making a pantomime of thinking, even putting a finger to her chin.
"I...I mean, is there even the slightest chance that I will become covered in snakes along the way?" she queried cheekily, her head tilted to one side.
"No," he sighed, rolling his eyes. She immediately smiled again and bounced over to him, indicating her desire to leave immediately with the subtle body language of dragging him out of the room by the hand.
"Oh, by the way Harry," she said as they walled down the corridor, "I finished that book last night. I wanted your opinion on the results." She grabbed his robes and pulled him into a nearby empty classroom, then waved her wand at her head in a complicated pattern.
"Specto Mens," she chanted clearly and distinctly. Her head glowed a bright lime green color. Harry sighed with amused resignation.
"Not sure why I'm surprised," Harry said. "Bright green. You shields are up and working and quite strong. It would only take a skilled adult a few minutes to hammer through that with brute force but they'd have to practically have you tied down to do that. At your current strength, you won't leak anything to a casual or passive attempt. If you feel someone try harder, just run. It is really easy to notice, a feeling of pressure on the back of your eyes. Getting out of range is the best way to prevent them from breaking your shields. Also, if they tried to do it too quickly or aggressively there would likely be some feedback with shields that strong, which would give them a nasty headache."
"That's great news, Harry. Thanks," Hermione said. She then grinned and dragged him the rest of the way to breakfast.
While they ate, they both watched the owls arrive. A few students received letters from their parents and Malfoy received the usual, near-daily care package from his mom. Harry was surprised to receive a letter himself, then finally remembered it happening last time.
"Hermione," he said absentmindedly while rereading the note, "did you want visit Hagrid with me after lunch?" The brief snicker should have alerted him, but he simply wasn't paying that much attention – so much for constant vigilance.
"Well Harry," she said. He still didn't see it coming as she leaned over, her lips almost brushing his ear. "I know it is unlikely...but do...do you think I will somehow become covered in snakes there?" she asked in a worried whisper. "I hear that they are most common around that area." Harry sagged, his face falling into his hands. He shook his head no, not daring to look into her undoubtedly amused face.
"Then of course, Harry!" she chirped happily at him, "I'd be glad to meet him. Being so well acquainted with the Hogwarts grounds, I'm sure he has many interesting things to say about magical animals in the area and such. Animals like snakes." He groaned into his hands, then got some parchment out and wrote Hagrid a similar response to last time, simply saying he'd be there that afternoon. Looking at some of the students starting to file out of the Great Hall, he realized they should leave soon to get the best (farthest from Snape) seats.
"Look, very funny and all, but we need to get moving soon to make it to Potions early enough to get a good place to sit." he said, starting to double-check his bag.
"Hmm..." Hermione hummed. Harry immediately sensed danger this time. "I guess..." she said slowly, considering, "but...do you think there is any chance-"
"Okay, okay," he quickly said, holding up his hands. He leaned over and stared deep into her dancing brown eyes, locking his hands together in front of himself, as if in prayer.
"I, Harry James Potter," he said quietly, just loud enough for her to hear, "swear that I will warn intelligent young witches first before demonstrating strange and rare magical abilities or spells around them and will ask for their advice before continuing with any experiments."
Hermione smirked and patted his hands with one of hers. Her other hand went to his shoulder and squeezed gently. "I accept your oath, Harry James Potter. There, was that so hard?" Harry rolled his eyes and then twitched as Mr. Adder poked his head out of Hermione's sleeve and tickled his neck with flicks of his snaky tongue.
"Oh, that reminds me Harry: I've decided on a name for our beautiful new friend," Hermione said as they stood up from their meal.
"Oh?"
"Yep, we agreed his name is Salazar. I thought it was a good, historic name. Like Hedwig's. Also, our Salazar...he was, well, you know, by your you know what. Which is part of the reason this all happened. And his namesake is famous for you know what, after all. Thought it was appropriate. Anyway, 'Sal' for short." She was grinning again.
"That's, uh...a great name guys. Congratulations," Harry said. He was a little worried about what people would think when she had to make her new Familiar public knowledge. Her smirk as she grabbed her bag suggested she knew what he was thinking and didn't care.
They quickly got their stuff together and headed straight to Potions. As they walked, he ran her through the exercises for the False Persona Occlumency technique she'd read about last night. Hermione might already have been partially shielded because of her magical mental abilities, helping her get more organized Occlumency shields faster, but she also needed to become a person who didn't have mental shields or weird mind magic issues. At least for the next few years until she could be seen reading the right books in the library and asking the correct questions of Professor Flitwick on mental charms and protections.
"Try again," Harry whispered softly into her ear as they walked slowly down the corridor, keeping a keen eye out for any potentially eavesdropping portraits on the walls. "Imagine the person you need to be for the situation. Hold that in your mind." Hermione pressed herself into his side and listened, wrapping her arms around his and holding his hand in her small, yet very freezing cold ones. He ignored her frosty digits stoically.
"Then begin to cleanse yourself of emotions," he continued. "Let them drift away like seed heads to the ground. They are not real, only existing in your mind so long as you tend them as a gardener would. So release them, let them grow wild and unnoticed in the greenhouse of your deeper thoughts. Free your conscious mind for other things.
"Next, let the personality of that unreal individual you've constructed rule your every thought and emotion. Pull it over you like a soft blanket and live under it, only peeking out at the world occasionally. You have to be consumed by this other person, ready to act instinctively the same way they would; you will both look at the world in a similar way, you will both know some of the same things, but to that imagined person, there is no other 'you,' just 'I'."
Harry's second Occlumency teacher had been an adult Hermione, and she'd taken an approach that was naturally a mix of the best that books had to offer, advanced muggle psychology, far-east mysticism, and unique, carefully worked out exercises based on personal experience. Combined with that book last night, it seemed to be working almost flawlessly for young Hermione.
It helped that she already had an alternate personality of sorts planned out, the Perfect Little Professor. So stern, so studious, so nearly immune to loneliness and scorn. She almost had the basics of down after less than a day's study, which was frankly silly speeds for an eleven-year-old.
He had concerns about people finding out he had working Occlumency shields but had decided it wasn't a big deal before he'd even gotten on the train. He was the Boy-Who-Lived, so strange magical stuff was expected of him. Which was good, because actively hiding that ability was basically impossible for him, even when he was healthy and an adult. He knew the theory of False Persona Occlumency by heart, having had it drilled into him by Hermione over and over again in an attempt to get it to work correctly for him, but it never had. He really wasn't good at the mental arts.
Adult Hermione, on the other hand, had never had any issues. Her shields were reported to have been like steel plates and he didn't know if anyone had ever successfully read her mind. As for Legilimency: after the Fall, he'd seen her cut through a trained Auror's Occlumency shields, in combat. The spell had been silent-cast, without eye contact, and at almost twenty yards. She had then freed him from an active Imperious Curse (another feat of Mental Magic that was previously considered impossible) before he could fire on her operations team. It was scary. But then, so was how fast Hermione was picking it up now.
He was a little worried that maybe she actually did have another personality to help obscure her defenses, but maybe she was just very mentally flexible when she applied herself. Which was what she was best at, after all. Of course, as a child with a large reserve of magic only compared to other kids, neither the shields nor the illusory personality would stand long against the full force of an adult's attack. Anything casual should be fooled for long enough, however. And who tried to mind rape a kid just at random, especially one that didn't even have mental shields?
"Keep practicing and try to maintain it through the entire class if you can," Harry said. Looking sideways at her, he frowned slightly. "And don't snuggle up to me in the corridors unless your False Persona personality construct would. I don't care if you're cold. You can't leave your mind vulnerable to invasion by a potential murder and former Death Eater just because you want to use me as your own personal Warming Charm."
"Fah," Hermione grumbled in reply, sticking out her tongue at him but moving to a more normal walking distance. Shivering in her robes, she buried her hands inside her sleeves. "These dungeons are awful. There should be plenty of magic available to heat them. Seems lazy not to, really, given the level of-"
"Hermione," Harry interrupted gently, undoubtedly saving himself a five minute rant on magical utilities, "this second part of Occlumency is important if you don't want your shields to be instantly discovered. That is the best way to fail in disguising who you are and what you can do.
"If Snape tests your mind and runs into a brick wall instead of a nice, soft, flowery, squishy little-girl mind," Hermione's eyebrows scrunched together and she glared at him balefully for that one, "then you're found out. We can't have that."
She snarled silently at him but then stopped in the middle of the corridor and took a deep breath. Getting a slightly glazed look in her eyes, she seemed to become a different person in front of him. Her back straightened, she squared her shoulders, her lips tightened just a bit, and she now had a slightly worried look on her face, like someone was about to run a pop-quiz and she had just realized she hadn't studied for it properly. In other words, almost exactly like the timid little girl Harry had rescued from a Troll a month and a half from now, in a strange temporal direction. He nodded to her and she looked back with a raised eyebrow and slightly-disapproving frown. Not waiting for him, she started walking again toward class.
Now well on their way to the first real world test of their shields, Harry suddenly wanted to check his own. Stopping again, this time in a quiet alcove, he motioned Hermione over. He then carefully waved his wand through the complicated Specto Mens movements and gently, ever so gently, pushed his magic into the spell. He leaned heavily against the wall as the lights seemed to dim around him and he grew extremely dizzy, but he thought he had been able to run the spell successfully for about a second.
"Well, it was green," Hermione said, wincing. "Not good, though. Sort of a dim, sickly green. Sorry Harry."
"Don't be," Harry said, squeezing her hand. That brought a blush to her face but she quickly pulled her hand away again – no public displays of affection for the Little Professor, no matter how innocent.
"I was expecting that," he said. "At least I've got something working. I don't have much magic to fuel it right now, so that is about what I was thinking it would be." He continued walking toward class again, still a little unstable on his feet. Hermione hurried after him, a worried look on her face.
Sighing to himself as they entered the Potions classroom, Harry claimed a table way in the back for himself and Perfect Little Professor Hermione, one as far away from the Slytherin section as possible. He set up his class equipment textbook-perfect though long experience (Hermione did the same, but that was because she'd memorized the textbook). Looking around and seeing all his old classmates, Harry had a strange moment of déjà vu. He knew almost all of these people rather well and had seen several of them die horribly, but they only knew him as the Boy-Who-Lived now, with all the nonsense associated with that title. He snapped out of it and waved to Ron as the redhead sleepily entered the classroom with Neville. Ron waved back with a smile but Neville was too nervous to do anything but stagger to the seat next to Ron.
Harry, afraid he'd screwed up and ruined things, had talked to the young Weasley boy after the panicked disaster yesterday morning. His new-again friend had taken it strangely well. Nothing about being press-ganged into his crazy rescue scheme seemed to have fazed Ron. Harry had apologized and explained it had all been a false alarm and Hermione was actually fine. Ron had simply said it was lots of fun and then asked to be included in any more adventures.
At lunch Thursday, Ron had made the mistake of saying that he didn't actually know any noise-making charms. Unfortunately, this was in Fred and George's hearing. Apparently they'd heard the whole story already, as they first thanked Harry for the "teachable moment" and then suggested Harry see them first if he ever wanted to try to "elope from the castle with a cute young witch" again. The last part was said while wiggling their eyebrows salaciously. Hermione had instantly blushed bright red, then started a spluttering explanation of why they were wrong. This then segued into a Weasley bonding moment, with the twins dragging their brother off for what they called "remedial jokes class." What a strange family.
The Potions classroom was now full of muttering students as the start time for the class was rapidly approaching and Professor Snape still hadn't arrived. Harry couldn't remember how close he had cut it last time – mostly his first Potions class was all a blur of anger and shame. Just then, he noticed a dark, shadowy shape quietly drift through the doorway, closing the door behind itself. Still almost totally silent, the tall, thin, dark-robed figure ghosted over to the teacher's desk.
It hurt his eyes a little to look directly at the form, then he realized only he and Hermione seemed to notice it was even there. Whoever it was must have cast a Notice-Me-Not charm of some sort and the less disciplined and alert minds of the other students were apparently fooled. Harry tensed. It might be Snape, but this was different from last time, making him nervous about something that had once again changed.
Lifting a book above the teacher's desk, the dark figure's spell dropped and Snape appeared clearly to his sight just as the textbook fell and slammed into the desk with a resounding thud.
"Quiet," Snape said in a loud growl. The room instantly fell silent, except for a few tiny, terrified shrieks which were quickly stifled. Starting roll call without another word, he monotoned his way down the list until he finally hit Harry's name. And then kept going after Harry's tight, quiet "here, sir" rang out. Some of the class was staring at Harry, Draco with a sneer, but otherwise nothing had happened.
"There is both art and science in potion making," Snape started, his voice ringing loud in the silent classroom. "Being a Potioneer requires subtlety, raw skill, and exacting, unbending adherence to certain necessities. Learning Potions will require your full attention and your best creative instincts. Some may not even consider this to be magic at all, as you will not be using your wands for any silly spells in this classroom. They are fools.
"If you are one of the few to master this greatest of all magical studies, you can be assured that vast wealth, great wisdom, eternal fame, limitless power, and internal fortitude and strength unbendable by the ages can be yours." Snape paused, arms folded, then continued in a dangerous, droning voice.
"If there is any idle spell casting in this class, points will be taken. If such irresponsible actions result in damage to my classroom, detentions will be the best result you can hope for. I would gladly see anyone fooling around in this class expelled. That will be my immediate response to any dangerous infractions of discipline." He paused and glared at every single one of the students in his class. Harry carefully avoided his gaze and stared at his left ear. He hoped Hermione was doing the same, but didn't dare check.
"In the first three chapters of your textbook are the instructions for correct Potions station set up and basic safety procedures," Snape continued. "Prepare your cauldron and other equipment based on those instructions. If you are not ready in exactly ten minutes, you will be staying after class for additional instruction." No one moved.
"What are you waiting for?" he snarled. The sound of flipping pages filled the room. Harry and Hermione had already set up their stations, but after sharing a look they shrugged and reviewed the safety chapter again. A few minutes later, a looming shadow appeared as if by magic behind their stools.
"One point from Gryffindor for unnecessary flammables being kept on your station, Granger," a sickly sweet voice said behind them. Whipping his head around, Harry saw Snape glaring at the textbook Hermione was reading on the table. She hadn't even turned on her flame yet so there was obviously no safety concerns. Snape was clearly picking on her for some reason.
The greasy-haired man shifted his glare to Harry's side of the table. Harry had already stopped reviewing the information he knew by heart, so though his station was set up exactly the same as Hermione's, he had already put his textbook away. Harry winced and waited for Snape to make up something that he had done wrong so Gryffindor could lose even more points.
"And one point to Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, for the first correctly set up station. It seems some kinds of people can both read a book and understand the contents enough to follow simple instructions." Several Slytherins chuckled quietly from the front of the class. Harry's mouth fell open and his growing anger at Hermione's unjust treatment stalled in his shocked mind. Had Snape just...given him House Points?
"Did you have something to say, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked in a syrupy voice.
"Uh, no. Sir," Harry answered hesitantly. Snape sniffed, then moved away to harass someone else. Neville had somehow managed to lose his stirrer and only Ron's help was preventing him from lighting his robe on fire from the magical flame that was currently, for some reason, turned all the way up on their desk. Snape was not impressed and started taking points immediately.
Looking to Hermione, Harry saw her putting the textbook back in her bag with shaking hands. She then sat perfectly still with her hands clutched tightly in her lap, not looking at him. After the ten minutes were up, Snape found several students with grossly improperly set up cauldrons which he had to correct, guaranteeing those poor students extra time in the dungeon that afternoon. He then had the class start on a boils cure potion in pairs, the same as Harry's original first Potions class.
"Granger!" Snape said suddenly. Hermione jumped an inch in her seat, but didn't look up.
"As his station was arranged correctly and safely, you will assist Mr. Potter at his cauldron for this exercise," he continued in a drawl. Hermione again didn't say anything or even look up from the table as she started putting away her brewing equipment in her bag, leaving the prep-materials like her mortar and ingredient bins out. Waiting until she was finished, Snape spoke up once again.
"One point for dismantling your station before the end of class, Granger," he oozed in his audibly smirking voice. Hermione flinched violently, but simply quietly sat down again with her hands in her lap. Harry could hear a soft, angry hissing from her left sleeve, but she didn't say a word herself.
Once they started the potion, she continued to keep her head down while quickly and perfectly crushing, measuring, and prepping the ingredients according to the instructions Snape had put up on the blackboard. She silently added the necessary magical power to the mixture at the correct times for Harry with silent waves of her wand. Her eyes didn't raise higher than the small cauldron on their table. She didn't look at him while handing over the prepped ingredients at exactly the correct times to add them to the potion and simply quietly watched the cauldron as he stirred it.
This time, perhaps due to Ron's help (his mother did brew her own potions, Harry remembered), Neville didn't melt anything or get hurt. But his and Ron's resulting...slime was glared at angrily by Snape. Vanishing the contents of the cauldron, Snape started taking points away for every mistake he said they'd made in what he called an "extremely disappointing" potion.
Harry knew his and Hermione's potion was (of course) perfect, but he waited for Snape's review nervously. Hermione was once again sitting with her head bowed, her hands clutched in her lap, and her shoulders tense and pulled in. Harry couldn't take it any longer and snaked his hand over to gently squeeze one of hers under the table. She twitched at his touch, but then tightly gripped his hand before slowly pushing it away again. She seemed less tense now but was still withdrawn and didn't look around or chat quietly like some of the other students.
Snape took one look at their potion and then vanished it. "One point to Gryffindor for a correctly brewed first potion, Mr. Potter. Once again proving that at least someone in your House can follow simple directions. Which brings me to your partner." Snape speared Hermione with his eyes, but she didn't look up.
"One point from Gryffindor for goldbricking, Granger. Next time, actively participate in the brewing of the potion in a pair exercise or I will see you in detention. I watched this entire class and you did not so much as stir the cauldron once. Luckily for you, Mr. Potter is somehow capable of brewing the simplest of potions by himself. Mr. Potter will receive full marks for a correctly brewed boil cure potion but you will receive a zero for this exercise, as you contributed nothing of value." Hermione nodded her head jerkily, eyes still lowered, then Snape moved on. She started cleaning and putting away her equipment without a word.
As soon as Snape dismissed the them (at least those who weren't being held after), Hermione ducked her head, grabbed her bag, and almost ran out of the classroom. Harry swore silently and hurried to finish putting his stuff away so he could follow her. Rushing into the corridor, he was surprised to see her slumped against the wall just outside the door.
"Hermione," he started, but she shook her head at him and held up a hand. "Please, don't," she said in a shaky voice. "I'll, I'll meet you at lunch and we can go to Hagrid's after. I just. I don't." She shook her head violently again and fled down the corridor. Harry was left staring after her, too shocked to follow.
He spent the next hour doing his small amount of remaining homework from Charms and Herbology in the library, with a stack of advanced books open around him as part of his cover for knowing too much. If he kept this up, hopefully everyone would look back and remember how that Potter boy was always reading beyond his Year, so of course he'd know all kinds of things from higher level classes. But he was just doing his homework today, not refreshing his memory on advanced Transfigurations or whatever. He was too distracted by Hermione and the aftermath of Potions to concentrate and didn't get anything done.
Returning to the Great Hall for lunch, he spotted Hermione at the Gryffindor table and immediately went to sit beside her. She noticed him approaching and turned, smiling brightly. A tightness in his chest he hadn't realized was even there suddenly loosened.
"Are you...are you okay, Hermione?" he asked quietly.
"Of course, Harry," she sternly answered, looking down her nose at him. This effect was softened somewhat by the grin still on her face. "Professor Snape just really made me angry and I needed some time alone."
"Uhh," he started, before she started giggling at him. "Seriously, Harry, I was just mad at him. I needed to go let off some aggression, so I, uhh, went and found a girl's bathroom in the dungeons. That's where the Slytherin dorms are, according to Hogwarts, A History, and I figured it would annoy Professor Snape the most to mess with one there.
"I locked the door, turned all the toilets bright pink, and then shot this Bluebell fire spell I found Wednesday night into all the sinks. It won't hurt anyone unless they intentionally hold their hands over it for a long time, but until the flames are dispelled anyone turning on the sinks will get a face full of hot steam. And, err, the toilets are pink until someone changes them back."
She looked up to see all the nearby Gryffindors staring at her open-mouthed. Fred and George, sitting on both sides of Ron, were the first to respond.
"Ms. Granger, this is very unexpected," one of them said, accusatively.
"Such behavior-" said the other.
"Is most-"
"Awesome," they both said at once. "Not a bad prank," added the second twin. They both gave her a thumbs up, grinning from ear to ear. "We have the same reaction to Snape," said the first.
"So. Feel better now?" Harry asked, eyebrow raised.
"Yep!" Hermione chirped cheerfully. They finished lunch in peace, with Fred and George shooting Hermione occasional measuring glances.
Harry thought that was the last of it until they left together to visit Hagrid. Hermione continued to talk animatedly about next week's classes as they walked out of the castle, but as soon as they were out of sight of the main walkway she collapsed shakily against Harry. Burying her face in his robes, she then started sobbing.
"Hermione! What's wrong?" Harry asked, shocked and worried.
"I-I'm s-s-sorry. I just, I can't hold it in any longer."
"I don't understand, Hermione. What's happened?"
"Snape," she hissed. "He was so unfair and biased and hurtful in class! It reminded me, it..." she pulled in a deep breath. "It reminded me of some of my teachers in school, from before. I thought things would be different and even though you warned me I still thought it couldn't be that bad, so I expected him to be mean and strict and maybe angry at you because of your dad like you said, but he ignored you and I couldn't do anything right and I sort of hate you because it wasn't you who was getting picked on but me and that is stupid and I just shoved it all away and now it's spilling out again and I hate myself for being like this and always crying on you." She was gasping now, having run out of breath, her mind obviously still running at full speed in circles.
Harry hugged her close and gently rubbed her back. "It's okay. I understand. Snape is an awful person. That isn't your fault. I'm sorry Snape is picking on you for some reason and I don't mind if you resent me for it."
"Oh Harry," she muttered into his chest, "That isn't the problem. I resented you not getting picked on instead of me for about 30 seconds, but I still hate Snape."
"Not 'Professor' Snape?" Harry gently chided her. She glared at him murderously.
"Sorry, Hermione," he immediately said.
"Harry, I really, really hate him. I was holding it together during class, trying to suppress my emotions, but they just kept building and building and it felt like I was going to explode and I..." she pulled her head off his shoulder and looked at him with her tear filled eyes, but she was also smiling now. "For some reason, I wanted to bite him and then wait and watch until the poison killed him. Still do, sort of. I could barely hold it in during class."
Hmm, her happy grin had a lot more teeth in it than Harry was really comfortable with, now that he thought about it. She shook herself and seemed to regain her composure some.
"I almost completely failed to keep my False Persona in place and my Occlumency was a mess, I could tell. I'm sure that odd revenge fantasy was just my new snaky friend gently 'suggesting' ways to deal with my anger. That's why I went and magically blew-up all over the Slytherin's bathroom. I didn't tell the others, but that silly little prank was after I accidentally turned a blowtorch on one of the toilets and melted it to slag on the ground."
"Umm," Harry said, "I don't remember a spell like that..."
"Oh, well, it was really just an Incendio, but...it seemed really, really overpowered. I wanted to destroy something and I was angry but I just meant to cast it into the toilet water, a safe way to let out my anger, and instead the flame came out all blue and super-hot and then the water exploded and the metal bowl started melting...I panicked and tried to fix it but it wouldn't react to the only repair charm I knew. So I changed the rest of them pink and set it up to make it look like part of the prank that went wrong. I'm really worried something is wrong with my magic, but I'm afraid of what they'll find if I go to the Hospital Wing. I've got Sal as a Familiar now and...that other thing I'm afraid they'll find."
"It'll be okay, Hermione," Harry said, patting her on the back. "Look, we'll do some testing over the weekend and figure out what's going on." She nodded and pushed herself back on her own feet, then smoothed out her slightly crumpled robes.
"Let's go see Hagrid and ask him some pointed questions about snakes, eh?" he suggested, drawing a playful grin from Hermione once again. She immediately grabbed his hand and started dragging him down the path to the Gamekeeper's hut.
"Oh, aye, ther' are some nasty besties in tha Forbid'n Forest. Snakes? Oh, lots a snakes. Any in specifics like?" The huge, friendly man peered at Harry in interest. Hermione squirmed in the background, trying to keep Fang from sniffing and pawing at the snake hidden under her sleeve.
"Ah, yes. Well, I was by the edge of the forest in some tall grass – not in the Forest itself, it mind you, I know that is dangerous – and thought I saw a snake that looked a little different. A common adder, if the field guide I read is correct, but it seemed...I don't know, more snake-like than normal? Special somehow? So I figured it was magical. And I heard you liked magical creatures..." Harry knew this puzzle would hook the jolly outdoorsmen.
"OH! How interest'n! Well, let me see. Could 'ave been an Ashwind'r, I guess. What color 'n size?" Hagrid really did look interested, rubbing his beard in thought.
"Large," Harry said, "over three feet long, silver and black colors, big around. Didn't have glowing eyes, so not an Ashwinder, I think."
"No, no, yer right there Harry ma' lad. Coulda been a young Basilisk, may'e, but those 'ave been extinct, or ah' least illegal, for 'undreds ah years. Well, let me see. Tha' is whats known as an enchan'd forest, you see, so it could be jus' about anythin'. Maybe somethin' left over from a magical experimen'. Or a miss'n pet. Some things livin' in ther' can also absorb magic when the'r young. Might just be somethin' like tha'."
Hermione was getting steadily more nervous about Fang, so Harry decided their visit was about over. He didn't need any information about the break in at Gringotts, for obvious reasons, and they'd already had their tea with inedible rock cakes, so they said their goodbyes and returned to the castle. It was good to see Hagrid again, but he just didn't have much he could safely talk to the fellow about and Hermione had been too nervous about the whole situation to say much.
The rest of their quiet weekend was spent in endless library study and careful magical experimentation. Harry and Hermione left the stacks Saturday only for meals, cramming advanced magical knowledge into the smartest witch of the age from the school collection, his own personal library of advanced textbooks, and the Gray and borderline Dark books he'd purchased from Knockturn Alley. Hermione loved every moment of it, of course.
Harry was a little worried about how little time he was spending with Ron compared to last time, but it was early days yet. Ron and his new friend Neville (the two seemed to have bonded over hating Snape after their first Potions class) weren't really into that much constant studying, getting bored and leaving after only two hours of doing homework. They spent some of their time that weekend poking around the greenhouses and gardens but most of it playing games in the Gryffindor common room.
Sunday they went outside and ran some tests on Hermione's spell power. He'd told her about the Room of Requirement but also managed to convince her they should use it sparingly for now, in case someone caught them entering or leaving. Maybe after getting his hands on the Marauder's Map again they could risk it, as that would help them tell if anyone was lurking around the corridor. But for today's science experiments, he found a lonely bit of rocky shore by Black Lake that looked like it could take some moderate scorching.
Something strange was going on but they couldn't nail it down. Most of the time, she cast the Incendio spell and it would just light something on fire as usual. But a few times it would burn with a bright blue flame, brighter than the Bluebell spell fire and much, much hotter, and things were instantly turn to ash. Hermione felt very winded and usually had to sit down for a few minutes when those happened, so it obviously took more magical power, whatever it was.
After a few frustrating hours spent mostly as amateur pyromaniacs, Harry decided the mystery wasn't going to be solved quickly or easily and Hermione started complaining about experimental controls, so they went back to learning the theory of obscure jinxes, counter-jinxes, and anti-jinxes in the school library.
Classes starting up again Monday was a kick in the teeth. More exhausting spell practice was required in DADA Monday morning, but Quirrell seemed strangely understanding when Harry could only dimly light his wand once before he had to stop and try not to heave all over his desk. Quirrell then gave Harry full grades and a House Point for "g-g-great effort, which s-should always b-b-be rewarded." Creepy.
Then Hermione had a House point deducted and was told to stop casting the spell and sit quietly for the rest of the class for "intentionally trying to blind" her classmates with her first attempt at the spell. It was bright, sure, but that was sort of the point of the spell. Quirrell definitely had something against her and Harry was worried about how she was taking a second professor being on her case.
With both of them left reading the textbook for the rest of the class (which they both knew cover to cover already), Harry watched Hermione go from shocked to angry to totally blank-faced. She sat staring at a single page of the book the rest of the class, her hands clutched in her lap. She wouldn't talk to Harry afterward but did walk with him to the Great Hall, where she seemed to recover, even chatting a little about classes with Percy during lunch.
Their Theory of Magic class that followed was a lot more boring than he remembered. But then again, he had so much practical experience at this point that he likely could have taught the simple lecture-based class himself. Hermione obviously knew the material already but still loved class lectures, so at least she was having a good time. Their assigned homework was extremely simple and would be done in minutes unless Hermione went mad and wrote three feet for an eight-inch essay assignment. And what were the chances of that.
Once again, Harry managed the afternoon Transfiguration class exercise the first time but took a long time doing so. No one other than Hermione and him had actually succeeded last time (and his attempt reverted to a matchstick after only a few seconds), but this time several other students had modest successes also. Both he and his his bushy-haired friend got a point for Gryffindor for being awesome then Harry was told to take a rest.
Professor McGonagall watched him like a hawk as he sat and carefully didn't try to do any more magic. He felt okay, just a little faint, but he didn't want to draw the Professor's ire by pushing it, so he watched Hermione's tutorial with his other friends with vague interest.
Neville's match was sort of rolling around on his desk looking a little shinier and Ron's had several spiky wooden bits coming out of it, but they didn't seem to be making much progress. In full tiny-professor mode, Hermione huffed at their efforts and quickly started in lecturing them about concentration, focus, and not scraping their wands across the desk while attempting the spell. Both were getting something vaguely pointed on the correct ends after a few minutes of that, possibly more from fear of additional lecturing than the content of her tutoring. Hermione went back to trying increasingly more difficult versions of the matchstick to needle exercise at her desk.
"Professor," Harry said, surprising the older woman and making her jump a little, "Please, do you have a moment?" She had been watching Hermione as she continued to practice the spell with a confused look on her face which cleared when she turned to look at Harry.
"Yes Mr. Potter, what did you need?" she said sharply, but not unkindly.
"Uh, Professor, I was wondering...are there more exercises I could do? I've already sort of got the matchstick down. I mean, maybe I can't do it very much, but I think I understand the theory. I just need more..." Harry waved his hand vaguely. McGonagall winced a little, then her face was sternly frowning again.
"Your interest and dedication to your classwork does your House proud, Mr. Potter," she said, almost smiling, "but I can not honestly allow you to continue to more...strenuous exercises until you have more magical stamina." Seeing Harry's face drop, she quickly added.
"Do not look so down, Mr. Potter. I have seen you improve greatly already. Just give it time." She sighed, then continued. "The next level is working the spell and the reversal as many times as you can without errors. After that is multiple matchsticks at the same time as...Ms. Granger is...attempting." Harry followed her gaze and saw Hermione with an entire matchbox worth of matches spread out on her desk. With a couple of waves of her wand, she changed all of them to silver, pointy needles and back again. Doing it once more seemed to make her a little dizzy, but after a few seconds of rest she was able to repeat the process again perfectly.
"Uh," Professor McGonagall said, clearly distracted by Hermione's demonstration. She then returned her attention to Harry. "Right. Mr. Potter, here is the next homework assignment. You may work on this for the rest of the class period. If you finish it early, you may turn it in at the end of class." She handed him an assignment sheet and then returned to her desk, shaking her head a little.
Harry returned to reading the textbook to double-check the points he needed to cover on the homework essay, but he also tried to covertly get Hermione's attention. The bushy-haired girl was totally absorbed in her work, though, and didn't react to his gentle coughs and stares. Harry was worried that she was overdoing it a bit and it might draw too much attention. Hopefully it wouldn't cause any issues. In yet another change, most of the teachers by now must be suspecting how much power Hermione had.
In his previous timeline, she was a good student but hadn't dared to go much beyond perfecting the basic classwork, unless it was for what she later called a "Harry Crisis." Now, her friendship with him seemed to have fueled an interest in excelling far beyond anything taught in the classroom, and instead of spending all her time on writing (and over-writing) her homework assignments, she now pestered Harry to help her work on advanced Charms and obscure jinxes.
Hermione already had intermediate Switching down in Transfigurations, as well as most of the rest of the First Year classwork, but all only in theory. She was already well into the Third Year books but wouldn't try anything outside of class because it was slightly dangerous. Harry knew if McGonagall found out they were fooling around with advanced work she'd have kittens, so they planned to simply keep up with class spells in Transfiguration. Hermione had worked out a schedule to practice advanced Charms and the DADA combat and utility spells in their spare time over the next few weeks.
Harry getting started on the rather simple homework assignment but was still distracted by Hermione's work. By this point, Professor McGonagall had wandered back over to Hermione's desk again and was watching her continue to practice the impressive transfiguration.
"I believe that is enough, Ms. Granger," she said in a slightly strangled voice. "Umm, five points to Gryffindor for a most impressive mastery of this exercise. Please take a rest now. Class is almost over for today but you can work on the next homework assigned with Mr. Potter until the end of class." Hermione looked a little tired but her smile at the Professor's praise brightened the room even better than her Lumos spell. McGonagall actually cracked a small smile herself as she handed over an assignment sheet to the happily exhausted girl.
Hermione loved the class, but Charms was very, very awkward for Harry. Every class practical was nothing but the repetition of the same simple spells, over and over again. Hermione was, of course, constantly getting House Points awarded for the speed and strength of her spells. But Professor Flitwick took a very understanding position with Harry, and simply required him to practice the wand movements and pronunciation without forcing himself to actually use the power required to complete the spells.
Intent to use magic being a primary component in spells meant you couldn't accidentally do something if you instead meant to do nothing, not that you couldn't screw up a spell you were trying to cast spectacularly. Ducking a bright orange spark flying over his head, Harry made a mental note to remember to get Neville and Ron new, fitted wands somehow, and soon.
Professor Flitwick would take Harry aside at the end of class for a single, focused attempt at as many spells as Harry could manage, calling off the sessions before Harry felt too weak to continue. Even the simple First Year spells left Harry exhausted after only a few tries, though, and he couldn't even do that much on Thursdays because he still had to attend DADA afterward. At least the spells he got out were almost perfect.
Flitwick always dismissed Harry's apologies with a sad little smile, simply telling him he should continue doing his best. It was embarrassing for Harry, but so far none of his classmates had said anything about his special...problems. Thank gods they didn't have any classes but Potions with Slytherin this year.
Harry was glad to see how much Hermione enjoyed Transfigurations and Charms, as every interaction with McGonagall and Flitwick seemed to repair the emotional damage done by the abuse from her two worst teachers, the Death Eater and Voldemort's meat-puppet. Over the next two days, Hermione slowly relaxed again. Nightly conversations continued in the boy's dorm, now with Hermione setting up strong Silencing charms on the door, the closed curtains, and the stack of blankets themselves. They tried to stay with safer topics than future horrors – mostly advanced magical topics and which book Hermione would borrow from him next.
Hanging out with her Wednesday until their late, late night trip to the Astronomy tower brought to mind his next challenge: what to do about Hermione's birthday on the 19th. It was nine day away and he hadn't planned for Hermione knowing about his status as a time traveler. Sure, he'd picked up generic Birthday and Christmas gifts for her and his dorm mates during his second (secret) trip to Diagon Alley, but now he felt Hermione deserved something more...personal, more special. He racked his brain for hours for ideas but actually slapped himself in the head when he figured it out – obvious really, in retrospect.
The rest of the week was quiet as classes gradually became routine, with an exhausting and minimally participatory Charms and another strange DADA on Thursday. The non-spell-casting classes were a breeze, as most of them were either all theory (which he knew) or manual labor (which he could put up with).
Since that weekend, everyone had been very excited about the announcement of Flying Lessons. They were to be held Thursday afternoon after the rest of classes. Harry was less excited than most, but at least he'd be allowed to fly at school after taking it, something he hadn't realized until Fifth Year last time. It hadn't been a conspiracy or anything, it was just that he was already on the school team and no one bothered to tell him. Harry had originally joined the House Quidditch team because he didn't have any idea what it was or even how to say no, and anyway Ron was really into it so why not?
Of course in retrospect it made sense: Ron would have exploded if he had to go almost the entire ten months of the school year without flying, so of course you could do it at school outside of being on a Quidditch team. That must have been what he was doing some weekends when Harry was studying with Hermione or something that didn't involve the redhead. He simply didn't do it while Harry was around when at school, until he tried out for the team.
But this time around, he'd just fly on his own or with his friends. He wasn't allowed a personal broom at school yet, but flying with school brooms was allowed during the weekends for First Years so long as a teacher or prefect was supervising. Second year on, he could just fly whenever he wanted.
That was currently Harry's plan, as playing on the team took far too much time – time he needed to kill a Dark Lord and work out how to save his friends. Anyway, it would hardly be fair, given he'd ended up with more experience than anyone else at school could possibly have at this point. It wasn't like it was a professional team and he had no intention of playing pro anyway, so he had nothing to prove. Ron might be disappointed, but they would both just have to deal. There was zero change he'd trying anything stupid to get on the team, like...watching Neville fall and break his wrist then pull crazy stunts. Shit, he'd forgotten about that.
Having finally remembered from the future both Neville's disastrous fall and Hermione's utter terror until she was twenty of anything higher than a tall stool, Harry had decided to organize a study group Wednesday afternoon to get those who grew up without booms a little confidence and experience with the theory. Hermione brought books, cold logic, and a crippling fear of heights, Ron brought his magical upbringing, limitless enthusiasm, and an appetite, he brought snacks a cynical outlook on the magical world's educational system. As nice a person as Ms. Hooch was, she didn't seem to understand either the fear of flying or how anyone couldn't love it at first sight. She also forgot, of course, that anyone raised outside the magical would never have had a chance to see it at all (let alone fall in love with it) and therefore wouldn't have any examples to try and imitate.
Still, the idea seemed to have worked and instead of worrying herself into a twitching pile of tears at lunch that day, Hermione had cornered Ron between Neville on one side, Harry on the other, and some stewed meats on the table and was interrogating the poor boy relentlessly about safety measures and the specifics of possibly using a Cushioning charm while in a free-fall – you'd need to be fast as a snake and at least three stories up, she concluded, vowing to keep her wand in hand somehow.
The class that afternoon went off without a hitch, with Harry scoring maximum possible points for the practice course and Neville and Hermione actually being able to get off the ground without incident. Malfoy made a constant stream of foul comments when the teacher was far enough away not to hear, but because Hermione was too frightened by the broom riding to actually hex Malfoy into a greasy stain on the grass when he called her a "useless mudblood" for the seventh time, everyone escaped without a trip to the Hospital Wing. And any day without a visit to the Hospital wing was, to Harry, a good day.
And then Friday and Potions rolled around again. Hermione was quiet and terse all morning and seemed to disappear into her introverted, Perfect Little Professor persona before breakfast was over. Walking from the Great Hall to the dungeons with her was hard for Harry to handle. He kept wanting to tell her it was okay or at least it would be okay soon, or maybe give her a hug, but she needed to stay inside the fake personality to keep her mental shields both up and hidden.
Harry was somehow able to clench his teeth and keep quiet all throughout the class, while Hermione was forced to redo a potion twice, still got a low score for it even though it was perfect, and was ignored every time she tried to raise her hand to answer a question. Snape even took points for "excessive hand waving" and "being too eager." By the end, she was once again sitting slumped staring at the table with her hands in her lap.
Harry's potion was, of course, almost perfect, as were a couple of other students', but Snape only commented on Malfoy's and his, giving them each points. Somehow, he made Harry's praise seem like only "keeping it fair" instead of something deserved because of skill, while Malfoy was put forward as the truly gifted student. It didn't bug him anywhere near as much as Hermione's treatment, though, and it broke his heart to see her shuffle out of the classroom again.
Catching up with Hermione in the corridor, he couldn't think of anything to say. She seemed to still be in character but he wasn't sure, she just marched forward with her head bowed and her frizzy brown hair covering her eyes. After walking up a couple of flights of stairs, she firmly reached out and grabbed Harry's arm.
"Harry, I need you," she said through clenched teeth. She then dragged him into a nearby empty classroom, closed the door, and started stripping off her robes.
Harry's brain locked up instantly and he found himself driven mute. He was trying to back through the closed classroom door, his mouth now simply hanging open. Turning around while she was working on taking off her tie, Hermione noticed Harry pressing himself flat against the door. Sal was still wrapped around her left arm and looked at him quizzically, his tongue flicking out.
"What's wrong, Harry?" she asked, still worrying at her uniform tie.
"Uh, I-I don't, umm," Harry stammered, frantically glancing around the room for something to help him explain how wrong this was to her and unlock his brain. Looking around the room herself, Hermione seemed to realize something was off.
"Oh, sorry Harry. You are quite right. This is not suitable at all." She sighed and looked at all the dusty furniture. "I got all stirred up and wasn't thinking. We could get in trouble for doing it here. Yes, we wouldn't want someone to walk in or the furniture to get broken in all the excitement. Seventh floor, corridor on the left, strange troll painting, right?"
She draped her robe and tie over her arm to hide Sal but left her shirt collar unbuttoned. Her long black skirt swished as she pulled Harry away from the door then she dragged him out of the classroom, down the corridors, and up the stairs until they were outside the Room of Requirement. Dipping briefly to the floor, she released Sal, who slithered rapidly down the corridor in the direction they hadn't come from. Hermione took a long look down the other way, then nodded her head and walked up to the blank wall. Pacing quickly back and forth, she opened the door that appeared and dragged him inside, waiting only a second for Sal to slither into the room behind her.
Instead of the Madam-Puddifoot-esque bedroom nightmare that the small, non-screaming corner of Harry's mind was expecting, he saw a mostly empty stone room with a series of things like dressmaker's dummies lined up in the middle, as if for a firing squad. They each had a simple, cartoonish cardboard face attached to them that looked suspiciously like Snape's ugly mug. The nose was unmistakable.
"Quite nice," Hermione said as she smartly closed the door behind them. She freed Harry from her clutches, dropped her discarded robe on a table by the entrance, pulled her wand out of her skirt pocket, and then dropped her wand arm to the floor to allow Sal to wrap around it again, all in quick succession. Sal was now wrapping around her right arm, from just above her elbow to just behind her wrist.
"I-I don't understand, Hermione. W-what did you...need me for?" Harry asked, his terror finally starting to disappear.
"Hmm?" she said, turning to look at him. "Oh, safety of course. I could fall or hurt myself or something, doing this."
Aiming downrange, almost seeming to sight down her Familiar, Hermione started firing off Banishing charms one after another, knocking the dummies across the rest of the room and into the walls. Pieces of them piled broken against the wall as Hermione kept casting, firing the spell over and over again at the line of dummies in front of her until they were all knocked down.
Her path clear now, she kept Banishing the broken bits again and again against the wall as she walked slowly forward. The wooden pile was now more splinters than recognizable parts. Once she reached the other side of the room, she whipped her wand around wildly and almost screamed "Incendio!" A large, blue flame licked out of her wand and scorched the stone floor and wall. Moving it in a brief wave, she burned the broken wooden bits to ash in a few seconds, then canceled the spell and stared at the smoking remains.
"Ah, that's better," she said, wiping her forehead with her non-wand-and-snake hand. "Think I figured out the strange power variance, too. But mostly, I just needed to break something again. Now I feel much better. I must say, this room really is something. Anyway, magic: I've got much better strength on my spells when Sal helps. Not totally sure what he's doing, but he really seems to like the fire ones and they have the most change from his help. Maybe you can talk to him about it later.
"Oh, and I don't think we'll get in any trouble Harry. I sent Sal out to scout around just in case before. I'm not planning on spending any more time here today so he can check for us again when we leave in a few minutes. Maybe I can figure out something else in the future, but I really, really felt like doing something violent after how today's class went. I hope you don't mind."
"I, uh, no," Harry said, greatly relieved. "I think your precautions are fine for now. Maybe...hmm, maybe you could cast at Black Lake? Or we could find a rocky wall somewhere?"
"Both good ideas, Harry," she said, smiling once again as she put her tie and robe back on. A quick look around by Sal and it was safe to make their way to the Great Hall.
After lunch, they scouted out some more remote locations for spell practice, one surprisingly enough near the Quidditch pitch. Harry was sure no one would care if they tried to light rocks on fire or banished branches around the grassy fields, but the remote location of the sports field was even better. It wasn't used much off-season and was usually deserted during the week as practices were mainly on the weekends and mornings (unless Wood went practice crazy again). They spent the rest of the day studying new spells they would try out later that weekend. Behind a pile of books in the library or in an open field where anyone could be hiding as a bug were not the best places to talk in secret, so they continued to met in his room for private and sensitive conversations.
This time, Hermione brought up using the same tunnels Harry had said the giant Basilisk used in Harry's odd past-future for her grass snakes, suggesting that they could scout out stuff for them until Harry got the Map. Harry wasn't sure that was such a good idea, but he could see the obvious advantages. Maybe it was just too much like something Voldemort would do – secrets and snakes and spying on people, but he really didn't like it. He told Hermione he'd think about it, but that they should still try to avoid using the Room of Requirement unless it was critical. Hermione frowned (obviously thinking of all the awesome things she could do with the room) but agreed that caution was the best plan for now.
Harry had some trouble sleeping that night, with strange disconnected fragments of images haunting his sleep. Waking up at way-too-early o'clock in the morning, he stumbled out of bed and headed to the bathroom, physically locking it behind him from long habit. He had just finished washing his hands and was just about to open the bathroom door when he heard a loud "pop" from behind and something struck him in the back of the knees. He fell forward and his head slammed into the doorknob, then he slumped to the floor in mind-searing pain, clutching his head.
The lights suddenly went out in the room, the magical, fake-oil lamps flicking off like a switch had been thrown (which didn't exist – they were magic, not electricity), then was a loud, wrenching crash rang out followed by the sound of spraying water, as if a sink had just exploded.
A muffled, high-pitched voice rasped menacingly from just above where he lay, still writhing in pain. "Stay away from her if you know what's good for you, Potter. We won't let you interfere with our plans." Harry tried to go for his wand, then something hard and metal connected with his head and everything was blackness.