Consequences of Meddling With Time
Disclaimer: Not mine. I just borrowed them for a while. I promise to put them back when I'm done. Oh, nope, no money either—just for fun.
I want to give a great big thank you hug to my alpha reader, Arabellabloodgood, and to my betas, WriterMerrin and DuchessOfArcadia, for combing through this and helping me clean up my many mistakes. I really appreciate it more than you can possibly know.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~((25))~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione entered Professor Snapes' office with a feeling of trepidation.
"Sit down, Miss Granger," he said as he pointed to the chair in front of his desk and resumed marking the essay he had before him without even bothering to look up.
Hermione crossed the room and sat in the offered chair with her hands clasped in her lap, crossed her ankles, and waited.
He set the essay, now marked to the point of looking as if it'd been bled on, on a pile to his left and picked up another from the pile on his right.
"Sir, I can explain," she said, her voice shrill and loud compared to the soft scratch of his quill.
"Do you think me an incompetent teacher?" he asked, still bent over the parchment under his quill.
"Er, no, sir," she replied with a shake of her head. So this is why he wanted to see me, I guessed rightly…
"Do you consider your skills with potions to be so accomplished that you don't need your full attention when you brew the potions I assign you?"
"Er, no, sir," she said, disheartened as she looked at her hands, picking nervously at the cuticle of her thumb. He was still refusing to look at her.
"Stop doing that," he barked.
Hermione's head snapped up, and she was shocked to see him staring right at her.
"I told you once, years ago, that picking at your cuticles leaves open sores—sores that can be very bad with certain ingredients we use."
Hermione blushed. He had. Two years ago in fact—well, nineteen for him. "I'm sorry, sir, I haven't broken the habit."
"Among others," he sneered, finally looking up at her. "What makes you believe that I am not perfectly aware of every move Mr. Longbottom makes in my classroom, or for that matter, your friends, Messrs Potter and Weasley?"
She shrugged. "I know you must be, but I just don't want Neville blowing up the class," she admitted.
"And you think that I allow students to blow up my classroom?" he asked with a sneer as he stood and moved around his desk. He stopped sneering and looked down at her, although his eyes were still narrowed. "Let me rephrase that; I've been teaching Potions to dunderheads for fourteen years. In all those years I have never—ever allowed a student to blow up my classroom. Mr. Longbottom will not be the first." He stopped in front of her and leaned against the desk with his arms crossed. "Your constant interference with Mr. Longbottom has resulted in the fact that he is unable to brew even the simplest potion without your assistance and lacks the self-confidence that he might've had, had he been forced to do them on his own and learn from his mistakes."
She was going to respond, but he continued. "Are you aware, Miss Granger, that Mr. Longbottom's marks on his essays are generally higher than your own?"
She shook her head, dumfounded by the revelation.
"However, although he has amassed a fair amount of knowledge on potion ingredients and their interactions, and the general uses of the potions, it will not enable him to carry Potions in his N.E.W.T. year."
She looked at her hands, and her gaze traveled to his knees as she contemplated what he'd said. She wanted to say, He is unable to concentrate in Potions because he fears, you, Professor Snape, and he can't shake his fears in class, but held her tongue.
"But that is not why I asked you here tonight," he stated.
Her head snapped up as she stared at his face. "No?"
"No. First, we are aware of your illicit club."
"Sir, we haven't…"
"Do not lie to me," he growled out angrily, and Hermione flinched. "I know for a fact you have. Did you honestly think that the Hog's Head was safer for you and your friends than the Three Broomsticks? What were you thinking? The Hog's Head attracts a rough crowd, Miss Granger, unsavory types, the likes of Mundungus' sort, the Carrows—or even Macnair."
She knew that Mundungus was an unsavory sort. But he is trusted by the members of the Order of the Phoenix, so how bad could he be? Macnair was a name she knew. Macnair was the old wizard from theCommittee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, of theDepartment for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, that had come to kill Buckbeak my third year. In her opinion, he didn't look like someone anyone should trust. "They didn't say we couldn't go there," she started to say to defend herself, but stopped when he tilted his head with a look of skepticism. He is only voicing his concern – you know how protective he is. "You're right, it wasn't the best option."
"No, it wasn't. Madam Puddifoot's might have been a better choice, and yes, she has a back room for parties." He relaxed his shoulders a bit. "Is there anything you wish to tell me about your club?"
Hermione couldn't meet his gaze. She shook her head as she stared at her hands. "We haven't, well, not really…"
"Fine," he snapped. "I will find out if you do."
He stared at her for a moment; Hermione refused to look up but she could feel the weight of his glare before he continued, saying, "The second reason I asked you here is regarding a matter the Headmaster is very concerned about. He has learned that Potter is having dreams. He wants to know—we need to know what these dreams are about to make sure they are benign and not something else. This is very important. Since Potter is not confiding what they are to the Headmaster or Professor McGonagall, you must relay them to me." He turned and picked up a bottle of ink. He held it out for her. "This is important, Miss Granger, I need to know. You are to use this ink and document the dreams on the back of your essays. The ink will vanish as it dries."
Hermione nodded. The fact Harry's scar bothered him so much and those dreams—visions he'd been having bothered her too. "Yes, sir, you can count on me."
"I know I can." Severus smiled, an actual smile, one like his younger self used to do, and for a brief moment, it was like being with his teenage self that she'd come to miss so much.
"Hermione, if you have questions, questions you cannot ask any other teacher about their curriculum, come ask me," he said softly, barely a whisper in the quiet office. "Or write them down on your parchment with my ink."
She let go of the breath she'd been holding as she nodded, trying to ascertain what exactly he meant. He hated her questions. Surely he would be irritated with me for wanting to discuss things my other professors covered. It's not like when we were together when he was young—we talked about everything then… Or could he mean… No, he wouldn't—couldn't—does he? "Of course, sir."
After a long pause, he said, "You may go."
"Thank you, sir," she replied, rising to her feet. Hermione left, fully confused by his statement as if he'd hit her with a Confundus Charm.
~~~~~~~~~((8))~~~~~~~~~~
That meeting hadn't gone as he'd expected. Severus sat at his desk, awaiting the arrival of Minerva and Dumbledore. Hermione hadn't been as forthright as he'd hoped, but then she hadn't lied to him either. He could read her well enough to know that. If he didn't know better, he guessed that they hadn't even met yet, which seemed illogical, and wholly illogical given Potter's and the Weasleys', all four of them, tenacity to break the rules. But for once, Potter, Ronald, Fred and George Weasley weren't being rash about their activities, which really intrigued Severus.
Still, the Headmaster and the Heads of Houses knew about the Defense club Potter had formed. Well, Severus was still convinced that Hermione had been the original instigator on this one; the fact alone that Umbridge wasn't preparing them to take their O.W.L.s was guarantee enough that she wouldn't have remained idle and allowed her scores to plummet. No, Hermione was a conscientious student with a thirst for knowledge, always wanting to excel in all her subjects, and she always had been. However, unlike his Slytherins, she hadn't turned to her Head of House. She'd turned to Potter of all people.
At first he'd been hesitant about showing his hand so openly to her, but she hadn't accepted his offer. It's possible that she hadn't understood my offer or accepted it as genuine. I've made it clear to her that I can't favor her… It's also likely that she was just caught off guard. Oh well, time will tell. But time wasn't what they had a lot of—the Dark Lord could strike at any time. Although, for now, the Dark Lord was preoccupied with attempting to obtain the original version of the prophecy, since he was convinced that Severus hadn't overheard the entirety of it. At the time he hadn't. But then…
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Enter," he said, then steepled his hands as Dumbledore and Minerva approached his desk.
"So, has she confessed to the gathering?" Dumbledore asked, not mincing any words. He made a lazy swish of his wand and changed the chair Miss Granger had evacuated into a well-padded armchair.
Minerva sat on the ladder-back chair beside him. Her only modification was to add a seat cushion.
"No, although she did not deny it," Severus said smoothly. "I'm certain that they have organized the club, although I can't figure out when or where they are meeting. I had the impression that…"
"Ah," Dumbledore exhaled with a nod of his head. "As for when, that is being resolved; where still remains a mystery."
"And if the students are caught, what then, Albus?" Minerva asked, clearly frightened for her cubs. He wondered if any of her Gryffindors had sought out her help for their Defense O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s preparation. He knew that the Ravenclaws, those not enlisted into Potter's group, would simply rely on their books and practice on their own. The number of Ravenclaws in the hospital wing for minor injuries attested to that.
Dumbledore smiled and patted her hand. "Then I shall take full responsibility for the group." He turned to look at Severus. "And your group?"
"Simply reviewing for what I know to be on the exams," Severus stated softly. "For now. They are more interested in protection spells and wards."
Dumbledore looked at his hands, laced together on his lap, and nodded. "And will Miss Granger tell you about Harry's dreams?" the Headmaster asked.
Severus smiled. "Of course she will."
~~~~~~~~~((8))~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione sat in the large chair by the fire, her quill poised above her notepad as she stared into the dying flames. Instead of revising, she was making a list of all the spells they knew. With a huge stroke of luck, both Harry and Neville had stumbled upon the Room of Requirement: Harry learned of the room through Dobby, the house-elf he'd freed their second year, and Neville as he'd paced in the corridor and happened upon the doorway. So far they'd had three DA meetings, learning how to cast the Disarming Spell, Impediment Jinx, Reductor Curse, and the Leg-Locker and Arm-Locker Curses.
She had written down all the hex and jinx deflection spells and fighting spells that Barty Crouch Jr. taught them in fourth year when he impersonated Mad-Eye Moody, as well as some of the spells Gilderoy Lockhart had mentioned in their second year, although most of those were not really practical for fighting. She ignored Lockhart's books for fending off banshees, ghouls, yetis, and hags, but his books on vampires, werewolves, and trolls seemed like a good idea to review.
Being Muggle-born, she wondered about the Defensive Charge—a surge of magical power, which seemed to simply emanate out from within a magical child, not unlike an electric shock, if someone was grabbing them forcefully or threateningly—but most of the books that mentioned it called it a reflex reaction of raw magic and considered it an uncontrollable magical outburst. Still, if she could figure out a way to do it intentionally, it could be rather handy. Except, she didn't know if wizards grabbed people like Muggle attackers might.
Ron had wanted to add the Silencing Charm and Conjunctivitis Curse to her list, but Hermione was reserved about those. Silencing your opponent only worked to disable them if, and only if, they didn't know how to do non-verbal curses, hexes or jinxes. She remembered watching Severus try to perform them in the small classroom in the dungeons. He had mentioned that the students in their sixth year were taught how to do them, and some of the Death Eaters, possibly all of them, had gone to Hogwarts too. The Conjunctivitis Curse only blinded your opponent—which meant he would be firing off spells blindly at any small noise or in total confusion. Not good.
She was hesitant to have them do the Jelly-Brains Curse. A Confundus worked just as well and didn't turn the brain into gel, which was difficult to reverse. She thought of having Harry teach the Repelling Charm to deflect spells, except that the caster had to be able to identify the spell instantly, and it took very quick reflexes. The velocity of a spell varied depending on the magical strength of the witch or wizard casting it. It also depended on the determination of the intent and the willingness to do the magical act.
The velocity of a curse by a wizard with self-doubt, or who lacked conviction or determination, emitted a weaker power charge, which could still shoot the curse at a speed of twenty-seven and a half to thirty-three and a half meters per second. For some wizards, it could be even lower, about twenty-four meters per second if they didn't have their heart in executing the curse or didn't like to hurt others. For some, whose moral compass fell a bit off-kilter, their curses could fly with speeds up to sixty-one meters per second, and there was a duelist on record who managed one hundred and ten. That beat Professor Flitwick's record by only three meters per second. So, since most of them were not as quick at that, she crossed the Repelling Charm off her list.
She looked at her revision guide, now color-coded with red, blue, and dark mustard yellow to represent Quidditch practices for the three houses, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, green to represent the various clubs at Hogwarts and her own entries in brown and black… and sighed. The only time available to meet wasn't for two weeks.
"Hermione, what'cha doin'?" Ron asked, plopping into the seat next to her.
Harry squeezed onto the chair next to her and glanced at her revision guide.
Hermione shifted as much as she could to give him room. "I'm figuring out when we can meet next and what spells Harry should teach," she admitted.
"So much for finishing the Herbology essay," Ron grumbled.
"I'll have it done tonight, Ron, don't worry. Of course, you could shock us all and write it yourself," she said with a chuckle, then turned to Harry.
"Awe, Hermione, don't be like that," Ron whined with a yawn as Harry looked at her expectantly.
She ignored Ron's comment. "Here is what I was thinking; have everyone read Lockhart's books over the next two weeks and review Mad-Eye Moody's notes on defensive spells."
"He was Barty Crouch Jr., Hermione," Ron pointed out helpfully. "A Death Eater."
"I'm aware of that, Ron, but he did give us a lot of good defensive spells—and people should review them. We got pretty good at them in class, even Neville did. From what I've figured out, Travel With Trolls, Voyages With Vampires,and Wandering With Werewolves might be helpful—especially if Voldemort recruits vampires and werewolves or uses trolls. There isn't much information on fighting giants in the library, but I'd consider… What?" she asked when both boys turned to look at each other, and Ron mouthed something to Harry.
"Hermione, his books are useless," Harry stated.
She shook her head. "No, Lockhart was useless—his adventures were real occurrences made by real wizards and witches that he simply took credit for. They are useful as a resource."
"She has a point, mate," Ron stated. "You tell Cho tomorrow morning, and I'll tell Hannah."
"We might have better luck telling Luna. She has Charms right before we do," Hermione said and smiled. "Oh, and I think I've solved the communication problem as well. I found a charm, the Protean Charm, and if I can get it to work, we'll be able to alert everyone to meeting times and dates."
"Hermione, that's awesome!" Harry exclaimed. "How close are you to figuring it out?"
"I've managed to do it between two coins easily enough, but now all I have to do is figure out how to link them all together. I need to connect thirty or so, right? That's a bit trickier."
Harry was all smiles as Ron said, "If anyone can do it, you can, 'Mione."
"Ron, please stop calling me 'Mione," she said with an exasperated sigh.
"Sure, 'Mione," he said with a mischievous grin.
~~~~~~~~~((8))~~~~~~~~~~
Severus opened up his top right-hand drawer and pulled out the worn, battered diary his older self had given him as a teen—the visit that had changed his life all those years ago.
The older version of himself that had appeared to him when he was a teen had warned him to write down everything he could remember about the times Hermione arrived and anything of significance. He had been diligent with his entries, as had a previous self—that adult version of himself. However, the entries in the diary were very confusing; some dates had multiple entries apparently from the time loop before… as if the diary managed to escape the time paradox and existed outside the time loops.
Severus opened it up to a particularly favored page and carefully moved the brittle leaf aside. He'd written about their hike. He gently put the leaf back into place and turned to another favored entry—the day Hermione had transfigured a mouse into a spoon. He closed the book and held it on his lap. Now, those were the good times.
But the entries that always made Severus' blood run cold were in the same handwriting he had as an adult, not the one he had as a teen. They were written on the last pages of the diary, and one was written as a second hand account of one possible outcome. Apparently an older version of himself had told a younger version about the reason he'd traveled back in time the first time: the outcome of the end of the war—and because the Dark Lord had won. Things had been so bad he'd risked everything, all the warnings, the reasons not to go, and had gone back in time to change his past. It wasn't because of Hermione's death that he'd done this, but because of what her death changed. The cause and effect.
He opened up the diary to the entry. The first one, the second hand account.
Because of Hermione's death the dissension between Gryffindor and Slytherin had turned to a severe animosity between the two houses and had resulted in skirmishes, brawling, and dueling in the classrooms and corridors nearly every day. Students had been literally maiming each other. Hufflepuff had mostly sided with the Gryffindors, but some hadn't. Ravenclaw had been divided; over a third had sided with Slytherin. The animosity within Ravenclaw had grown so heated that the students that had sided with Slytherin had moved into the dungeons. Almost every student from his house, and many from Ravenclaw, had joined the Death Eaters. The Dark Lord's numbers had apparently been staggering. One fourth of the students from Hufflepuff and several from Gryffindor had joined the Dark Lord as well; the rest had sided with Dumbledore. Just as when he'd been a kid, recruited right out of school to join up with the Death Eaters.
One possible outcome. At least there were no small x's by the date. That time line had been erased completely, apparently, since the girl still lived.
But the second one, what he assumed was the second timeline, the one that read like a first hand account, that one unnerved him. It started with the bloody battle at Godric's Hallow during Potter's fifth year. The losses had been tremendous… It was worse than he remembered it being when he'd left Hogwarts before the first fall, much worse. The Dark Lord had lured Potter from school to go save his beloved godfather at the house where his parents had died.* The Dark Lord had won, and thousands had been killed—whole families eliminated.
That entry had only one x beside the date. Christmas Eve, 1995. As a teen, he'd marked his entries with two x's. It was the only way he knew that the other entries on the same days were from different timelines. The x's. The older version of himself that had visited him had marked single x's on his entries—the ones that were already in the diary when he'd received it. There were some—ones that didn't have x's, that were vague or didn't have a time placed next to the dates, or mentioned only an approximate date, and had been written in a dull, flat ink; those may have come from the first timeline. It was hard to tell. Severus knew, well, assumed that he was living in the third loop. Meddling with time was dangerous, and from what he could tell, he'd apparently done so twice.
He wasn't going to allow the same mistakes to happen again. Not in his timeline.
He quickly put the diary back in his drawer when a knock on the door broke the silence.
"Enter."
Three of his seventh-year Slytherins, Miss Serena Wilkes, and Messrs Darias Kennecott and Raithe Macrae, and two of his sixth years, Aldebaran Urguhart and Raymond Aubry, entered his office. Messrs Urguhart and Kennecott led the group to his desk.
"Our parents have accepted the invitations from the Malfoys and the Warringtons," Mr. Kennecott stated, made a quick glance at the others behind him and then faced Severus, "and we know that… Well, Malfoy has been saying things."
That boy was going to be the death of him. "What has Malfoy said this time?" Severus asked with just a hint of annoyance to make the students relax, watching each student carefully.
"That the recruiters will be there," Mr. Urguhart stated.
Just like last time. Lucius recruited me as well. He knew the position these five students would take. They'd leave the country before joining the Death Eaters, but each knew that was futile as well. "You know that over Christmas holiday you will have to face the recruiters," Severus stated. "And you would do best to keep your opinions neutral until you finish school."
Miss Wilkes hung her head but not before he caught her look of dejection, Mr. Kennecott nodded solemnly, but Mr. Macrae squared his shoulders and held his head up determinedly.
"And how are you coming with your Occlumency?" Severus asked. He knew the answer—they had learned how—but as of yet none of them would be able to Occlude their minds from the Dark Lord. Messrs Kennecott and Urguhart might be able to protect their minds from invasion from a skilled Legilimens, but Mr. Macrae lacked the focus and Mr. Aubry lacked the strength of will to keep their minds clear and devoid of emotions, although with the proper incentive they might improve. Miss Wilkes, however, still couldn't master the ability to empty her mind or close off her emotions sufficiently. "Each of you can set up times with me for practice. But I'm a very busy man, so I expect your diligence."
All five promised and made appointments for the lessons. That in itself was hopeful, but he'd have to have Filch oversee his detentions if his entire Defense group made appointments with him.
The few students Severus had selected in his group were mostly sixth- and seventh-years, but there were a few of the fifth-years as well. Although it was unethical, he'd used Legilimency and a teeny amount of Veritaserum in pumpkin juice to weed out all the students who were most likely to join the Dark Lord's ranks. Thankfully, there were those who believed Dumbledore and Mr. Potter that the Dark Lord had returned and whose families well remembered what life was like under his control the first time around. The students of those families were more concerned with defending their families and using protection charms than fighting, but it was a start.
~~~~~~~~~((8))~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione sighed heavily as she stared at her revision guide and really regretted giving Professor McGonagall back the Time-Turner.
Since Harry, Fred, and George were now banned from Quidditch, that left the hours that Harry would've been at Quidditch practice freed up to practice the spells he would teach the DA. She'd found a small classroom down the corridor from the common room with a door that normally looked like solid rock—unless you knew which flagstone to tickle to make the door open. It was a small space, and there weren't any cushions on the floor, which meant they had to bring their pillows, but for just her, Ron, and Harry, it was perfect.
Plus, since it was so close to the common room, they could sneak out at night under Harry's cloak. As soon as he became proficient in the Deflection Transfiguration and Deflection Charm, she'd arrange another DA meeting. Only this time it would be easier—she'd simply activate the Galleons with the date and time.
Another problem she was having was finding time to help Hagrid with his lesson plan—well, that wasn't true. Hagrid was more than understanding about them needing to know about magical creatures that would show up on their O.W.L. exams, but he found most of the creatures she suggested he use in class uninteresting. She wasn't giving up, though; she didn't want to lose Hagrid as a teacher, even if his lesson were a bit unnerving. She liked him too much.
She supposed that Thestrals were interesting creatures, if a herd of carnivorous winged horses that you could only see if you'd witnessed death could be considered interesting. But she'd just stood there in class and stared into the clearing—the empty clearing. She hadn't been the only one either. However, Seamus, Harry, Neville and Tracie Davis had seen them just fine. Parvarti had been terrified of them—or of the pieces of meat that vanished in midair. Plus all the books that had pictures of Thestrals either had sketches of the animals tearing flesh off cattle or sheep or had photographs of bare ground or empty paddocks.
~~~~~~~~~((8))~~~~~~~~~~
Severus strolled casually down the corridor from the large room he'd selected for his secret Defense class. He walked the maze of the dungeons with confidence. It was perfect—as the detection spells he'd set up warned him if Filch or his ruddy cat were anywhere near that part of the dungeons. Not that Filch ever came down this deep into the old cells.
He was thwarting the efforts of the recruiters, and it made Dumbledore happy. I sooo enjoy doing things that make the old fart happy, he scoffed sarcastically with a frown. It was simply a matter of numbers; if these students could see a different option, then the Dark Lord wouldn't have as many students joining him this time around.
He was counting on getting these students in his Defense class to take a stand against the Dark Lord—then they might help redeem Slytherin's reputation that all Slytherins would go bad, a thought that truly rankled him and many other Slytherin alumni. There were several past Ministers who had been from his house, as well as past and present Ministry department heads, successful entrepreneurs, past and present members of the Wizengamot, on the Board of St. Mungo's and the School Governors, and renowned Masters in their fields.
Just because his house comprised of students from pure-blood families and half-bloods whose families had four magical grandparents didn't mean that they would all turn to the Dark Arts or join the Dark Lord. But the recruitment among their families were heavy-handed and unrelenting. Many opted to be supporters, paying huge amounts of gold to the Death Eaters for protection. But once the seventh-year students left Hogwarts to make their way in the world, they would find themselves under the pressure of the Death Eater recruiters to join the Dark Lord and earn their places after his victory.
With luck, he'd have seven of the six seventh-years persuaded to remain neutral, or better yet, with little encouragement, he might sway some of them to join the Order's side when the time came. But for now, he had planted the seeds of fighting for their beliefs, standing up against oppression and tyranny, and was nurturing it slowly. So far his plan seemed to be working.
~~~~~~~~~((8))~~~~~~~~~~
Severus swore softly as he watched four more Hufflepuffs scurrying down the stairs on their way to their common room. They were cutting it too close to curfew, and he knew for certain that none of these students had been in the library. He had no idea where they were meeting, only the most probable dates and times when they could.
Septima had taken the known dates and times of all the student activities and organizations, used her Arithmancy calculations, and had presented Dumbledore with a proposed schedule of meeting dates and times. On one of those dates, Filius had made arrangements with Umbridge to meet with him, pretending to want her clarification regarding what the Ministry deemed acceptable material for his lessons.
The week after that, when Septima's list indicated when a meeting of Potter's club meeting was likely to take place, Pomona had asked Umbridge for the same opportunity to evaluate her course curriculum, which had resulted in a rather unfortunate incident between Umbridge and the Venomous Tentacula and the giant horned-trumpet vine.
Even Minerva had used one of the dates to invite Umbridge to share an after-dinner tea in her office to discuss the formulation of a Transfiguration club, not that she hadn't offered advanced lessons for any student who was gifted in her subject in the past or who'd demonstrated the ability for Animagi transformation.
Tonight was Severus' turn, his second actually, but he'd be damned if he'd have Umbridge in his office for any length of time or endure two hours in that putrid pink and lace office of hers either. He'd rather have tea with Potter and talk about the good ol' days before he'd subject himself to that torture. No, instead he'd laced her sickening pink sugar cubes with an odorless and colorless sleeping draught, placed valerian root and chamomile tea in her tin and slipped out of her office unnoticed.
He followed a group of Gryffindors consisting of the Creevey brothers, Miss Brown and Miss Patil, and Messrs. Longbottom, Thomas, and Finnigan and paused at the conjunction of the corridor, watching the unlikely group gather in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady to gain entrance to their common room.
He waited. Within minutes, Fred and Gorge Weasley appeared, talking with their sister, Miss Bell, and Mr. Jordan. Severus stepped back into the shadows and waited. His patience paid off; Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley rounded the corner right in front of him. "Out a bit late, aren't we?" he asked, stepping out into the corridor. "Mr. Weasley, get inside," he snapped, casting a mild Confundus Charm on the boy. Mr. Weasley left without argument. "Miss Granger, follow me."
"Yes, Professor," Hermione said with a heavy sigh and followed him.
He turned, led her quietly past the main stairs, and told her to walk into a section of the wall between a statue of Thorance Welldinger of Kent and a huge tapestry of girls feeding unicorns. He was pleased that she followed his directions and entered the hidden stairwell. That boded well. She followed him downward until they stepped out into the fifth floor corridor. He crossed the corridor quickly and opened the door to a small classroom, ushering Hermione inside.
He cast a series of charms and hexes at the door to ensure privacy, something that could get him in quite a predicament if discovered. "Miss Granger, you do remember that I am in the Order," he said to preface what he wanted to say.
"Of course, sir," she replied politely enough, if not a bit suspiciously.
Fair enough. "And as such, I often am pressed upon to do certain things, to maintain my cover of siding with the Dark Lord," he stated. Judging by the way she held her shoulders, she was exhausted. He hoped that meant that they had been practicing spells in her Defense club.
Her head tilted in a way that told him she wasn't yet catching on to what he was saying. "I know that, yes."
"And in my Potions class there are students who are connected to families of known supporters of the Dark Lord."
She nodded, her expression starting to take on that serious look he knew so well. She was becoming more alert. Good. "And as such, any favoritism I show you would be misconstrued," he stated.
She nodded, her eyes focused on his face. "Yes, I realize that."
"The same goes for your friends," he stated.
"Yes, because we're Gryffindors," she replied.
"Because the Weasleys are considered blood traitors among the Death Eaters, and many of your friends are of the same ilk, half-blood or Muggle-born," he stated. He could see clearly in her eyes that she was affronted that he'd called the Weasleys blood traitors. "In fact, you've made some rather interesting friends this year."
"Pardon, Professor?" she asked.
His declaration threw her. She was still tired; he'd have to be more blunt. "You have formed an illicit club, one that could get you expelled," he stated flatly. "I don't know where you are meeting or how often, but this is a very risky enterprise you've undertaken. If you and Potter are expelled—you both would be in grave danger."
He smirked as she was about to protest and laughed at her. "Do not insult me by lying about it. I know. Dumbledore knows. And he approves. Why is beyond me, but he does. However, no one, and I mean no one—not even Potter—is to know that. You, on the other hand, I'm willing to trust."
Her mouth had opened of its own accord as she stood there staring at him.
"Close your mouth; it's unbecoming."
She immediately shut her mouth with a snap. "But, sir?"
He could tell she had no idea what to say. He knew and he wasn't expelling her. "All school organizations and clubs must have a faculty advisor, Miss Granger; I am to be yours."
She shook her head, uncertain that she heard him incorrectly. "Sir? How can you be an advisor to an illicit club?"
"Easily. The same way I can be a Death Eater and retain my position at Hogwarts: Dumbledore's sanction is, however secretively, given." He crossed his arms and resisted smirking at her wide-eyed amazement. "I assume you've been teaching the students the rudimentary spells you have been taught in your previous years?"
"Harry has," she admitted.
He snorted. "Of course, he has. And have you exhausted them yet?"
"Er, no, not really. We—I have other books to draw from," she replied with a slight blush to her cheeks.
"From now on, you will have regular meetings with me, in my office. You will bring your wand and wear comfortable clothes under your robes. These meetings will be arranged by means that may seem to others as detentions or disciplinary actions, but I will word them carefully so as not to mar your school records. Any points deducted will be rewarded back to your house when you arrive."
"Certainly, sir," she replied automatically. "Are we going to duel in your office the way we did when I stayed with you in the classroom in the dungeons?"
He smiled. "No, in an old classroom across from my office. But in that classroom, Miss Granger, it will be only you and I. Do you have any reservations or concerns about being alone with me in the dungeons?"
He knew her answer before she gave it. "Of course not, sir."
"This room will be keyed to your hand before we leave. The spells will remain in place as long as I live or until I dismantle them. You may bring Messrs Potter and Weasley here, but only Messrs Potter and Weasley, to practice anything I teach you. Then you three may teach the others. I expect full reports on the group's progress, and if any emergencies arise, I will be notified immediately. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," she replied.
"There is a house-elf by the name of Toopsy. If you say her name and the message, even faintly, she will hear you and come get me. Also the pallid-faced witch across the corridor on this floor has a frame in my office. Her name is Altheda Crockford. Her friend, Rosalba Higgins, hangs on the seventh floor down the corridor from your common room. She may be trusted as well. Become acquainted with these ladies and get in the habit of greeting them."
Hermione nodded with each direction. "Sir? Why are you helping us?"
He inhaled deeply. "You know why. I also have my own reasons. You will come to my office this Saturday at eight. Make up a reasonable excuse. We will be spending quite a few hours together, so be sure you're ready for it." He indicated she walk to the door by extending his hand. "Shall we key your magical signature to my wards, now?"
~ T. B. C. ~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~((8))~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes:
Hermione makes three jumps in her third year in each timeline (the exception being the first timeline because she dies). There are actually only three timelines in the story—Severus' timelines. The Diary was introduced in chapter Four. This was not the same timeline as in Chapter One; it's the second timeline.
Think of a fork: teenage Severus's sixth year is the thick part of the fork—the conjunction which all the timelines diverge out from, and the tines of the fork are all different timelines. The first tine is Hermione's first jump back in time (Chapter One) when Hermione was beaten to death, the results of which made Severus decide to use the Time-Turner. This is timeline1.
The next tine is timeline2 (the timeline when Severus1 tells his younger self to keep Hermione safe in Chapter Two. When teenage Severus1 hid Hermione to keep her safe, it changed things, creating the second timeline.) However on this timeline, timeline2, Hermione makes two more jumps, both disastrous (one being when Hermione stayed in Gryffindor with Lily that was briefly mentioned in Chapter Four). So thisteenage Severus grows up to be Severus2.
In Chapter Four, Severus2, goes back in time, he buys the Diary, then returns to ask his younger self to avoid a confrontation with Black and Potter so he can hide 'the girl', and tells him when she will appear for her next two jumps. When sixth-year Severus2 hides Hermione for all three of her jumps, finally fixing the wrong, (hopefully), that timeline, timeline2, is erased creating timeline3—and giving us the timeline we are currently following.
Note: assume that when Severus2 bought the diary he wrote down what he remembered and what the older version of himself, Severus1, told him when he'd been a teen. Thus timeline1 and timeline2 are both recorded in the Diary even though timeline1 had been erased. Then teenage Severus2 recorded what he knew, what he did for all three of her jumps, and when Hermione arrived – so what happened in all three timelines is recorded. Trust me on this, okay? Think of him as two different people: 1. adult Severus2 who went back in time and got his younger self to change things – and 2. teenage Severus2 who grew up in this timeline and became Severus3.
But since the Diary is out of the time loops, because it's passed from an older Severus to his teenage self, the Diary is out of the effects of the time paradoxes and time loops. If you're still confused, email me, and I'll be happy to explain it.
After this chapter, things will change slightly, but I will be maintaining canon as much as I can. Most of the stuff will be 'behind the scenes' or going on at the same time as other things that are from Harry's POV. Sorry, no sex this year… or kissing. But there will be more SS+HG time. And a surprise.
For us who use feet – the translation of meter to feet would be:
The velocity of a curse by a wizard with self-doubt, or who lacked conviction or determination, emitted a weaker power charge, which could still shoot the curse at a speed of twenty-seven and a half to thirty-three and a half meters (about ninety to a hundred and ten feet) per second. For some wizards, it could be even lower, about twenty-four meters (about eighty feet) per second if they didn't have their heart in executing the curse or didn't like to hurt others. For some, whose moral compass fell a bit off-kilter, their curses could fly with speeds up to sixty-one meters (about two hundred feet) per second, and there was a duelist on record who managed one hundred and ten. That beat Professor Flitwick's record by only three meters (about ten feet) per second.