Hermione ripped up the Daily Prophet angrily. She couldn't believe that someone so slanderous had gotten a job at one of the most prestigious newspapers of Wizarding Britain. What she did know is that she had a bone to pick with a certain Rita Skeeter.
"Bad story?" Harry asked.
"Ask Neville," Hermione said. She rested her head on the table, unsure of how to handle the anger building up inside her.
Neville shook his head. "You don't want to know." He ate his toast covered in marmalade quietly, hoping that Harry would drop the subject.
Harry found himself not asking, though he did make a mental note to ask Cho for her copy of the prophet later. Then he could figure out why Hermione was so upset.
They ate breakfast in silence until Ron got there. He ate like a man who hadn't seen food in three days, much less eaten any of it. But when he got there, the post came in.
A dozen or more letters were dropped off in front of Hermione. Ron got a letter from his mum and a copy of the prophet. He looked at it suspiciously, casting a dubious look at Hermione.
She had picked up an envelope from the growing pile in front of her. She opened it slowly, but bubotuber pus oozed up and over her hands. She dropped the envelope onto the rest of them and rushed off to the hospital wing.
She left so quickly that her bag was still sitting on the floor. Neville scooped it up and hurried after his friend. He could hear her crying as she climbed the stairs and hurried down the hall.
"Oh my dear," Madame Pomfrey said. "What happened?"
"Hate mail," Neville said dropping Hermione's bag down on one of the beds.
"Some people," Pomfrey muttered as she set to work.
Within the next half hour, Hermione's hands were cleaned, bandaged, and spelled so that they would heal faster. Madame Pomfrey also gave her a potion so that she could take the bandages off in a day or two, instead of the week it would normally take.
Neville carried her bag as they headed off to charms class. He sat next to her, herding off vengeful stares and self-righteous looks. He took detailed notes, knowing full well that Hermione wouldn't be able to hold a quill for at least a week.
He helped her all day long, even writing down her essay for transfiguration as she dictated it. Occasionally he had to ask her to spell a word, but that was about all he asked of her.
"Thanks," Hermione said softly at dinner.
She was eating, or rather drinking, soup from a mug. Anything else was too hard to hold.
"Don't mention it," Neville said. "Really, once you can hold a quill again, don't mention it."
She nodded and sipped at her soup, listening to Harry and Ron talk about Harry's plans for Valentine's day.
Harry was pretty sure that he wanted to take Cho out to Madame Puddifoot's Tea House, or whatever it was called. Hermione had walked past it and it looked particularly pink. She made a mental note to find out if Cho would like that sort of thing.
Hermione got up to go see Padma. She had a question about a certain reporter's quill, and she wanted to know how it was done. Perhaps the effects could be used to aid her until she regained the full use of her hands.
She was glad that she left her bag in her dorm. It was hard to maneuver with her hands the way they were, and having a bad swinging loosely on her shoulder wouldn't have made it any easier.
"Hey Padma."
"Hermione. How are the hands?" Padma asked.
"They've been better." She held up her bandages for inspection. "I have an idea about that, however."
Padma's curiosity was piqued. "What do you have in mind?"
"You know Rita Skeeter's quill? The horrible one that twists everyone's words into something twisted? Well, I was thinking that if I could spell one of my quills to write what I say, I could at the very least write my own essays."
Padma nodded. "You'll actually want to talk to Vivian." She pointed at a pretty brunette with eyes green enough to rival Harry's.
"She can't be more than a second year," Hermione said.
"Third, and a master of wandless magic," Padma said. "She could certainly spell any quill you want, and even make sure that it's only tuned to your voice so that no one else can ruin your essays."
"That's amazing. How did she manage that?"
"She's only got one hand. She lost her left hand in an accident when she was little, and she's still not quite able to use the right one the way she wants. It was more out of necessity than anything," Padma explained. "Now go talk to her."
Padma shooed her friend over to the third year Ravenclaw, and Hermione approached nervously.
"Vivian?" she asked nervously.
"Yes." The third year was startlingly pretty. "How can I help you?" She eyed the older witch appraisingly, noting the Gryffindor badge on her robes.
"I was told that you're the best person to help me with my predicament." Hermione held up her hands. "They said that you might be able to spell my quill to write for me."
Vivian nodded and pulled out her wand from her bag along with a quill. Her right hand shook something fierce, making the typical means of using it impractical.
Vivian laid the quill on the table next to her wand. Laying her hand on the wand, she muttered a spell under her breath, and the quill wiggled before jumping up towards Hermione.
"That should be it."
"That's amazing," Hermione said. "Would you mind teaching me?"
"Only if you promise to proofread my essays. Padma says that you're the best proofreader she's ever met. And since she gets the highest scores on her essays, she must be doing something right."
"It's a deal."
A/N: So no Viktor in this chapter. Sorry. But there will be more of him in the next chapter. He'll be worried, but understanding. And it was rather tricky for Hermione to do everything without the use of her hands. Oh well. More people. I also plan on including a student who is either deaf or hard of hearing who's mastered wordless magic. And someone blind. Not sure yet. But I know Hermione can't pass up the chance to learn something new.