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, Proulxes for the Brit picking, and DuchessOfArcadia and nagandsev for combing through this and helping me clean up my many mistakes. I really appreciate it more than you can possibly know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~((35))~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was brilliant. Hermione was thoroughly enjoying her first day of lessons. Professor McGonagall approved all of her choices for her classes, which thrilled her. Her first lesson, Ancient Runes, was going to be really exciting with all the new challenges that Professor Bathsheba Babbling mentioned. She'd learned the Elder Futhark, Anglo-Saxon Futhorc and the Younger Futhark her third and fourth year, and the northern European Germanic Runes, the Scandinavian Rök and Fuþark runeslast year. This year, however, they'd be delving into the ancient Aramaic, Grecian, Phoenician and Egyptian, and those civilizations in the ancient cultures of the Mediterranean. She had a fifteen inch essay due, two long translations and three chapters to read by Wednesday.

She hurried to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and met up with the boys in the corridor with the rest of their classmates. When Professor Snape opened the door, she was filled with anticipation.

In contrast to her previous DADA professors, Professor Snape's classroom had the same feel of his office in the dungeons: he'd closed the shutters, hung all sorts of gruesome pictures and portraits around the room, and there were devices and implements in glass fronted cabinets and skulls and strange things on the shelves.

Hermione had been enthralled by his introductory speech about the complexity of the Dark Arts—and he should know. Of course he'd been right; they'd have five teachers so far for DADA, each with their own unique perspective on the Dark Arts, and their own methods of teaching and priorities. However, a few in the class, especially Harry, didn't take him seriously. Hermione blamed the ineptitude of previous teachers like Lockhart and Umbridge for people thinking that the class wasn't important enough to give Professor Snape their undivided attention. There was a war going on outside the school and in only two years, if it wasn't resolved by then, they would all be thrust into the battle or defending themselves from Death Eaters.

After his lecture, Professor Snape had everyone pair up to try doing the Shield Charm nonverbally. Hermione paired up with Neville and tried the Shield Charm against Neville's attack, thinking, Protego, firmly, with every ounce of determination that she could muster and yet not speak the incantation, as Neville cast a Leg-locking Jinx at her. However, her shield barely manifested, and she fell back with an 'umpf' on her bum.

"Try again," Professor Snape said, releasing her as he walked by.

Across the room, Ron, who was supposed to be jinxing Harry, was purple in the face with his lips pursed tightly together to keep from uttering anything, and Harry had his lips so tightly squeezed together they were curled inward as if he was biting on them. On Hermione's right, Seamus and Dean squared off, both mumbling the incantations, and Lavender forgot and blurted out, "Protego," as Pavarti hissed, "Mordere," as she shot a Stinging Hex at her.

"Miss Brown, I said nonverbally, as in no speaking. Miss Patil, you are not a snake—stop hissing," Professor Snape admonished them, and then he turned on Harry and Ron. "Mr. Potter, do it without moving your lips."

Hermione readied herself again to cast the Shield Charm against Neville's next 'attack,' thinking, Protego, firmly and determinedly. She felt her magic build, just as it had in France, and she concentrated on it, letting it surge as Neville cast a Jelly-Legs Jinx. Her shield was nearly a solid wall of light as Neville's jinx rebounded against it, pushing him back into Pavarti, causing both of them to fall onto the floor.

"Very good, Miss Granger, five points—however, since you disabled Miss Patil, five points from Gryffindor." He turned, ignoring her frown. "Mr. Thomas, nonverbal means no mumbling."

Harry glared at Professor Snape as Hermione nodded and squared off with Neville again, this time with him defending against her. Neville was concentrating so hard his eyes seemed to bulge. Hermione cast the Jelly-Legs Jinx at him, and Neville blocked it, but not without his lips moving. He managed it better the second time, with barely a twitch of his lip, but his shield wasn't as strong as his first. "You're trying too hard," Hermione suggested in a whisper. "If you just trust your magic to do what you want, let your magic surge, you can focus on your incantation and your determination. It will work."

Neville nodded as he took aim.

"Nonverbal means I shouldn't hear any talking, whispering or mumbling," Professor Snape admonished the class.

Neville readied himself again as Hermione concentrated on the Jelly-Legs Jinx and let her magic flow. She could feel her magic surge again and focused her intent on the action as she mentally shouted, Infirmare crura.

Neville's shield gave, making him fall back into Lavender, knocking them both over into Dean, although Neville's legs did appear to have lost all function.

Professor Snape quickly moved to where the students were clambering up off the floor. "What happened?" he demanded as Neville clasped Lavender's hand and helped her to her feet.

"I didn't stop the jinx," Neville explained as Lavender said, "Hermione blasted Neville."

Professor Snape turned on her. "Let me see your hands," he demanded. Hermione stepped forward and held out her hands. He ran his fingers gently on her palms, making her breath hitch, then stared into her eyes. After a second, he said sternly, "Control your magic or you'll put Longbottom in the hospital," and turned around, snapping at the others to continue practicing.

She looked on as Professor Snape turned to watch Harry and Ron, before squaring off with Neville again. "Pathetic, Weasley," Professor Snape said behind her, walking over to stand next to Ron.

Hermione nodded to Neville and fired another Jelly-Legs Jinx at him, releasing the magic at the same time she thought the incantation with a more controlled determination. This time, Neville managed to block it, although his lips had moved.

Suddenly, Harry shouted, "Protego," casting a Shield Charm so powerful that Professor Snape was knocked off balance and fell against a desk.

The whole class stopped to stare at them as Professor Snape got back onto his feet. Professor Snape was furious, but instead of admonishing Harry for blasting him, he demanded to know if Harry remembered his directions of using a nonverbal spell.

"Yes," Harry responded stiffly, which angered their Professor.

"Yes, sir," Professor Snape snapped at him.*

And Hermione cringed at Harry's impertinence when he quickly replied, "There is no need to call me 'sir,' Professor,"* making several of the others gasp in shock.

"Detention, Saturday night, my office," snarled Professor Snape in a controlled rage, his hands clenched so tightly that his wand shook. "I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter—not even the Chosen One."* He turned heel and said, "Now back to work; class is not dismissed yet," in a low commanding tone that had everyone immediately squaring off with their partners and resuming the class exercise.

Hermione focused her attention on Neville and cast her Jelly-Legs Jinx nonverbally while Neville tried to protect himself nonverbally with the Shielding Charm. However, she was distracted, and her spellwork wasn't as strong as it had been for the first part of class.

Harry should have known better and been more respectful. Imagine, hitting a teacher and knocking him into his desk! Of course he got a detention, and now Professor Snape was limping slightly as he moved about the students, correcting each student with curt directions and admonishments, although he avoided Harry and Ron throughout the rest of the lesson.

Naturally, after lessons Ron told Harry, "That was brilliant," which angered Hermione. Although she told Harry he shouldn't have done it, he only became angry at her, comparing Professor Snape's 'attack' to his Occlumency lessons. That made Hermione wonder again just what had happened between them in that last lesson.

"You know, Harry, in a way Professor Snape's lecture had sounded a bit like, well, like you did when you were leading the DA," she started to say, but Harry immediately took offence. "You remember, when you were telling us what it was like to face Voldemort. You said many of the same things Professor Snape just said—that it's not just memorizing a bunch of spells. You have to think and act quickly. You said it was just you and your brains and your guts. That it really comes down to being brave and keeping focused, ready for anything and thinking creatively."

"But did you hear him, Hermione? He loves them!" Ron said in Harry's defense, getting a nod and grateful smile from Harry. "Doesn't he, Harry? All that unfixed and indestructible stuff—the git."*

"Yes, Ron, I heard him. I was paying attention in class, and what he said makes perfect sense if you think about it," she argued, wishing they wouldn't just hate Professor Snape. He did have a peevish attitude towards Harry and could be unyielding at times, but he was their teacher. "But even you have to admit, he was right. Besides, we know Professor Snape likes the Dark Arts—fighting against them is a challenge and takes a great deal of intelligence and courage."

Neither Harry nor Ron had anything to say to that, well, in part because Jack Sloper, one of Gryffindor's Beaters from the Quidditch team last year, had run up to give Harry a message from Dumbledore about his first private lesson.

Still the lesson had been brilliant. She had been worried about Professor Snape when Dumbledore announced he'd be teaching DADA, whether he'd be all right this year, what tragedy would befall him or if he'd have some mishap that would remove him permanently from the school. She hoped not, yet couldn't shake the feeling of dread each time she saw him. Nevertheless, she surmised that Dumbledore must know what he was doing giving Professor Snape the post. At least they were going to really learn a lot under him, and Hermione was truly looking forward to his lessons.

After lunch, she, Harry and Ron had Potions. Hermione entered the Potions classroom and looked around the room, her bag already bulging with her books. Even though she'd added a nondetectable enlargement charm on the inside of the bag and the charm Severus—well, teenaged Severus—had used on her bag to make it lighter on the outside, it was cumbersome. With both charms she could easily carry all of her schoolbooks for the day as well as any additional books she borrowed from the library and all of her writing supplies—and for today, her scales and potions supplies as well.

She felt odd, a strange sense of wrongness, upon seeing that the room had been reorganized and rearranged; the oddities that Professor Snape kept on the shelves were gone, the worktables were pushed together so that four students worked together rather than in threes, and there were mats on the floors as well as bright glow orbs floating above. Apparently, Professor Slughorn liked a sparser working environment and brighter light.

Harry, Ron, Ernie and Hermione took the worktable in the middle of the room; the four Slytherins: Malfoy, Nott, Zabini and Davis, took the worktable in front of them. At another table, Terry Boot and Michael Corner had taken places across from Stephen Cornfoot and Sue Li, and both waved at Hermione before they pulled out their scales and books.

Several cauldrons sat on the other tables each holding a different potion: a standard pewter cauldron of Veritaserum sat on the table beside the Slytherin worktable; the slow-bubbling, sludge-like Polyjuice Juice potion sat near the Ravenclaws, and nearest her was a gold-colored cauldron containing Amortentia, distinctive by its mother-of-pearl sheen and its steam rising up in characteristic spirals. She inhaled its seductive scent, recognizing the smells of freshly mowed grass, new parchment and… and… She inhaled deeper, developing a sense of headiness from the fumes. A mix of herbs—slightly smoky, and oakmoss—vetiver… citrus and cedar. A masculine scent that matched the cologne she'd bought for Ron for his birthday last year. Hermione glanced at him and blushed.

While Hermione set up her cauldron and Potions equipment, Slughorn gave Harry and Ron a set of old school scales and battered copies of Advanced Potion Making by Libatius Borage. When Slughorn asked for the identity of the potions in the room, Hermione had no problem identifying them; each had been brewed perfectly, which attested to Professor Slughorn's skills at potions. It was no wonder that Professor Snape was so good, if he learned under this wizard.

However, when she was asked to identify the Amortentia potion, she stammered, naming only the first two scents, and blushing furiously, unable, well, unwilling to name the third. Thankfully, Professor Slughorn let the matter pass unnoticed and had them all brew the Draught of Living Death to win a prize—one tiny vial of golden Felix Felicis, one day's worth of pure luck.

Midway through her potion, Hermione's Draught of Living Death was a perfectly smooth, blackcurrant color with bluish steam rising in gentle swirls. She remembered Severus telling her about the Sopophorous Beans, 'Don't slice it – crush it with the flat side of your dagger. It will release more juice, and it won't harm the bean so you can use the pulp for the Congestion Elixir.'

She remembered (quite funny now looking back at the incident) how hard it had been to slice the beans in his lab, her bean shooting out from under her knife unless she angled the cutting edge perfectly perpendicular each time. Seeing all her fellow classmates struggling as she had to cut the hard bean now, watching as the tough little beans shot away from under their knives, made her smile. Well, until Nott's bean hit her in the head.

"May I borrow your dagger?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded and handed him her dagger as she poured the Sopophorous Bean juice into her potion. It turned the exact shade of lilac as described in the book. She glanced at the directions. Stir the potion seven times counter-clockwise. Repeat three times, pausing three seconds between each stirring…

All right. Then she recalled what Severus, his teenage self, had said, 'Add a clockwise stir where Borage's directions say to pause, especially if there is more than two. He always missed that step, and it will make the potion blend better.' She'd asked him why, and he'd shrugged. 'I just know. Otherwise your potion will whirlpool and the ingredients just swirl around—it works, trust me.'

Hermione had then and did now. She added the clockwise stir at each pause and watched her potion lighten each time until it turned palest pink. Across the table, she noticed that Harry had copied her in doing the added clockwise stirs. No matter, Harry's potion looked exactly like hers. Slughorn would have a hard time choosing a winner—if he was going to be fair about judging. Ron's however looked like liquid licorice, and Ernie's was a deep navy color.

At the end of class, Slughorn walked around to check on each student's progress. He shook his head as he passed over Malfoy's, Nott's and Davis', and smiled apologetically over Zabini's. He shook his head with a frown as he looked at Ron's and passed Ernie's navy concoction entirely. "Oh ho, look here! We have a winner! Excellent, excellent, Harry!" Slughorn called out, smiling broadly. "Merlin's beard, it's clear that you've inherited your mother's talent, my boy. She was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was—the best in her year!"*

"You haven't looked at Hermione's," Ernie said, scowling. "Hers is perfect."

Professor Slughorn's smile faded. Hermione tried to pat down her hair, knowing that it always became bushier after Potions class because of the fumes. "Give it up, Granger," Malfoy sneered. "You can't improve that rat's nest."

Professor Slughorn walked over and looked into Hermione's cauldron, his eyebrows rising in surprise. "Oh my, excellent. Yes, I do say…" He stood up and smiled at her. "I do say I'm impressed, Miss Granger. I'd never have thought—two students with extraordinary talent in one year. Oh, this is wonderful! Are you sure you aren't related to Hector in some relation—you clearly have his talent? No?" he asked, not giving Hermione the opportunity to answer as he turned and faced the majority of the class. "Yes, well, we have two winners." He handed Harry the tiny vial of Felix Felicis. "As promised, Harry my boy. Use it well. Miss Granger, I'll have yours to you by dinner."

Hermione watched as Harry slipped the tiny vial into his inner pocket with an odd expression that flitted between delight and guilt as he caught Ron's and Ernie's eye. Ron looked simply dumfounded; Ernie utterly disappointed.

As they left the classroom, Hermione had to ask, "Harry, how did you know what to do—the changes?"

He shrugged. "I don't know what you're—I got lucky, I suppose."

Hermione let it drop because Malfoy and Zabini were following behind them, paying attention to their conversation. However, once settled in the common room in their usual spots, she turned to Harry again. "Harry, how did you know about crushing the Sopophorous Beans with a dagger instead of slicing it with a knife?"

"Why? Do you think I cheated?" he asked, clearly affronted.

"No," she said slowly. "I mean, you could have seen me do it, which isn't really cheating. But doing the counter stir—where did you get the idea from?"

"I wasn't cheating off you! It was in my Potions book. It's got all this writing on it, and that was one of the suggestions," he stated.

Hermione gasped. "Writing? Harry, that's horribly risky! What if the suggestions were wrong?"

"It wasn't," he said grumpily. "You did the same as me, so why are you saying my book is wrong?"

Well, he had every reason to be defensive; she was calling him on cheating, and they had done the exact same steps. "But you have no idea whose book that was!"

"Give it a rest, Hermione," Ron said, standing up for Harry. "You won too, didn't you?"

"Well, yes," she admitted, "but that's not the point.

"So what's the big deal," Ron said flippantly. "He took a risk and tried someone's suggestions, and it worked out for him. Yeah, it could've been a catastrophe, experimenting like that, but it wasn't and it paid off!" He heaved a sigh as Hermione gaped at him because he was missing her point entirely. "Slughorn could've handed me that book, but no, I get the one no one's ever written in. Puked on, by the look of page fifty-two, but—"*

"Hang on," Ginny interjected. Harry suddenly perked up and turned to look at Ginny with a huge smile. "Did I hear you right?" she asked, looking alarmed and angry. His smile faded instantly. "You've been following something someone wrote in a book, Harry?"

"It's just an old copy of Advanced Potion Making that Professor Slughorn gave me in Potions this morning," Harry said, making room for her to sit down. "It's not like Riddle's diary—it's just an old schoolbook that someone had written in. It's no big deal."

"But you're doing what it says!" Ginny persisted.

"Blimey, Ginny! I tried a few of the suggestions written in the book, and they worked out," Harry explained, holding the book to his chest, looking sullen. "What is the big deal? Hermione was doing the same things, and her potion came out just like mine."

"After everything that happened to me my first year, and you are going to trust—" Ginny tried to snatch it, but Harry held on tight. "Let me see it!"

Harry handed her the book. Ginny placed it on the table in front of them and tapped the cover with her wand, saying, "Speciallis revelo!" But the book remained inert.

"Happy now?" Harry asked, grabbing for the book the same time Ginny did, and it fell to the floor.

Both Harry and Ginny bent down to retrieve it, bumping heads in the process, but Ginny picked it up first. She asked, "Who is the Half-Blood Prince?" as she closed the book and handed it back to Harry.

"I dunno. Apparently the guy who owned the book before me," Harry shot back, jamming the book into his bag.

Hermione was now more than a little concerned, and she wanted to see the book to look at the writing that Harry mentioned. Only Harry became obstinate and waspish every time she'd asked to see the book, almost as if she'd take it away from him if she did.

The steps that Hermione did in Potions were the ones Severus, well, teen-aged Severus had shown her, and Harry had been doing each step just a moment after she had, so she'd assumed at the time that he had been following her every move—only he'd admitted, adamantly, that he hadn't. It was possible that someone else had figured out that crushing the Sopophorous Beans yielded more juice, but Harry had specifically asked for her dagger, not her cutting knife.

Harry barely spoke to her at dinner, and afterwards, he and Ron played several games of chess in the common room. So Hermione absorbed herself in her school work.

When the lower years started filing into the common room for their curfew, Hermione glanced up. Being an N.E.W.T. level student, she still had easily over an hour before her curfew, which meant that if she wanted to, she could do laps in the Prefect pool.

The incident over the summer had really bothered Hermione, and if she had been a better swimmer, it was possible that Pierre Baudelaire wouldn't have found her such an easy target. Well, if she discounted that he was really quite handsome: straight white teeth behind his adorable crooked smile, his wavy brown hair and incredible turquoise blue eyes, not to mention his chiseled torso. She shook her head. No. But still being a better swimmer wasn't a bad idea.

She looked at her essay, already fully outlined and with half of her resources quoted… She had the time, and it wouldn't put her behind. She flipped through her revision guide. With the free period she had each day from dropping Muggle Studies, History of Magic and Care of Magical Creatures, she would have plenty of time to do her assignments. Decision made, she leaned over to ask Harry if she could look at the map.

"I'm not—"

"I'm not asking about the book, Harry. I'd like to look at the map," she said with a small smile.

He looked at her suspiciously for a few heartbeats. "All right, since you're not harping at me about my Potions book," he agreed, pulling the map out of his bag and giving it to her.

Hermione tapped the map with her wand, muttering, "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good," and looked for the Prefect's bathroom. The map showed that the bath was unoccupied, so Hermione tapped the map, saying, "Mischief managed," and handed it back to him, then ran up to her room. She changed quickly into one of her new swimsuits and hurried down to the pool to do some laps before turning in for the night.

~~~~~~~~~((8))~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the week went by so quickly.

Professor Sprout had the N.E.W.T. level Herbology students in the large greenhouse four, but there was a weird mist on the grounds in the mornings that week, so it had been hard to find the correct greenhouse. Professor Sprout, however, had been in a jovial mood, and the blood sucking thistles they'd replanted had been quite a challenge.

In Arithmancy, last year Professor Septima Vector had taught them Transcendence theory, in both qualitative and quantitative ways: non-constant polynomial equations with rational coefficients in application with large numeric variables using qualitative and quantitative equations from the fundamental theory that, where a non-zero polynomial exists with intercoefficients, the polynomial will have its root in the complex this year they would be doing themin multi-linear equations and determining complex intra-social time and life lines! She had already read the first six chapters of Transcendence Magical Theory, Advances and Applications.

For Transfiguration and Charms, both Professors McGonagall and Flitwick both gave a quick review of some of the complicated theories of the art they'd used last year, and then had the students try to do a spell nonverbally. Professor McGonagall had them try the Vanishing spell on vertebrates nonverbally, and Hermione managed to vanish her hamster by the end of the lesson, but no one else in the class had. In Charms they practiced Summoning and Repelling Charms nonverbally, but when Hermione focused her intent on the vase she was a bit too determined, sending the vase flying into the wall and breaking it. Both teachers set plenty of homework and reading assignments, which Hermione noted down carefully in her revision guide.

In Alchemy, Professor Theophrastus von Hohenheim was having his N.E.W.T. students write a comparative extrapolation between his ancestor,ParacelsusPhilippus von Hohenheim's work in his Archidoxes of Magic, and compare it to the magic theories of Agrippa and Nicholas Flamel, whom he openly rejected, and Marsilio Ficino and Pico della Mirandola, with whom Paracelsus held a natural affinity, and compare them to the views of the modern magical practitioners. All in only fourteen feet of parchment! Hermione already knew which noted Alchemists she wanted to quote.

And Professor Christina Rosencruz in Language Arts and Mythology decided to start the class on eighteenth century wizarding poets and authors, which would include the Brontë sisters, Jane Austen, and focused on such writers as George MacDonald, Druscilla Penningham, Mary Shelley, Robert Southey, Bram Stoker and Thaddeus Werten, much to Hermione's delight.

In their second Potions lesson, Hermione noticed that Harry cut his daisy roots on the oblique rather than transverse after carefully scrutinizing the tiny writing in his book. She frowned. Slicing roots on the oblique was another tip that Severus had taught her when she'd helped him brew her third year, as was the dropping of the Bogswallow-wort leaves on the surface of the potion one by one, which Harry had done as well. But when she'd tried to glance at the writing herself, Harry moved the book closer to him and out of her line of sight, much to her annoyance.

On Friday, Harry and Ron met up with Hermione outside of the DADA classroom, neither looking at all eager when Professor Snape opened the door. Much like before, Professor Snape began with a brief lecture giving them a list of all the spells he thought they should have covered in their fifth year, and Hermione was amazed that his list included many of the spells that he'd taught her in their private lessons together. His assignment was to look up each spell, identify the incantation, wand movement, spell color or trajectory pattern, as well as the counter spell and the most effective means of defense. When he was finished speaking, he had the class pair off again to demonstrate their abilities at nonverbal Shielding charms. He called Harry and Ron to the front of the class first, allowing the rest of the class to practice at the back of the room until it was their turn to demonstrate.

Hermione paired up with Neville again, who was remarkably better this morning at casting the Shield Charm when Hermione cast the Stinging Hex and then a Stunner at him. "You got it, Neville!" she encouraged him, then watched as his face paled slightly when Professor Snape called out their names. "Just relax and focus on me, not him, and you'll do fine," she whispered as they approached their professor.

Neville nodded mutely, staring at the ground.

"Miss Granger, you shall hex Mr. Longbottom. The approved Hexes are on the board," Professor Snape stated.

Neville swallowed nervously and faced her, his eyes never leaving her face. Hermione nodded and took aim, feeling her magic build as she thought the incantation and released the spell, feeling the power rush out of her. It was exhilarating. However, Neville's shield wasn't as powerful, and he was thrown back into the shelves behind him.

"Again," Professor Snape said, as soon as Neville was on his feet again.

Hermione took aim again as Neville braced himself, likewise wand at the ready. Hermione's Stinging Hex surged out of her hitting Neville's shield with a flash of bright light, but Neville's shield wasn't quite strong enough—the spell absorbed into his shield rather than rebounded, and he stumbled back a step.

"Pitiful, Mr. Longbottom," Professor Snape said. "Switch. Miss Granger, defend yourself from Mr. Longbottom's hex."

Hermione nodded encouragingly to Neville, focusing on her own magical energy with the incantation firmly in mind. Neville still wavered a bit when he hexed her, moving his lips while casting the Stinging Hex. Hermione's shield on the other hand was a solid wall, the projection like a wall of water that rebounded Neville's hex easily, making his hex shoot over his head and hit a window, breaking it.

Professor Snape's eyes narrowed; then he turned and, with a casual flick of his wand, repaired the window nonverbally. "Again," he said, turning back to face them both.

Once again, Hermione focused on her magic, allowing the build to surge again, and focused her intent. Neville's hand twitched a second before he mumbled, "Mordere," with a quick slash of his wand, but Hermione was ready; her shield erupting from her wand into another strong barrier. Neville's Stinging Hex had significant power behind it, hitting Hermione's shield with a powerful force, rebounding again and crashing into the wall behind Neville and chipping the stone.

"Miss Granger, control yourself. Do not destroy my classroom," Professor Snape snapped at her. "Again, Longbottom, choose another hex."

Neville nodded, this time mouthing, Infirmare crura, through gritted teeth as Hermione cast her shield to protect herself. Although her shield wasn't as strong, the impact of his Jelly-Legs Jinx flared brightly on the barrier, making the shield visibly waver and flex.

Professor Snape stared at Hermione, his dark eyes searching hers intently. "Show me your hands," he said. Hermione pocketed her wand and held out her hands with her fingers fully extended. Her right hand shook ever so slightly, and she tried to relax it a bit. After a second he said sternly, "I want you in my office tonight at seven." "Mr. Longbottom, five points from Gryffindor for mumbling. I expect you to do better next week." He turned around, snapping at the others to continue practicing, and called Lavender and Parvati forward.

Hermione wondered what she'd done wrong, and even received an apologetic shrug from Neville and Ron.

That night after dinner, Hermione hurried down to the dungeons for her detention with Professor Snape. Just as she was about to knock on his office door, the one behind her opened. "Inside, Miss Granger," Professor Snape said and moved aside to let her enter. The room looked much the same as it did the previous year. "Pull out your wand."

Hermione dropped her bag and drew her wand, facing him with uncertainty.

"Cast a Stinging Hex at the dummy," he instructed. "Nonverbally."

"Okay, Professor," she replied. Hermione concentrated for a moment, focusing her will, thinking the incantation clearly, and fired. It hit the target dummy in the chest with a velocity of one hundred and fifty-five with her strength in the dark purple shades.

"Again," he said, standing behind her with his arms crossed. Hermione shrugged and tried again, feeling her power build as she focused her intent, then fired. Her velocity went up ten points, and her strength registered a dark purple.

"What is taking you so bloody long to do the spell?" he asked, scowling at her.

She blinked.

"Do it again," he snapped.

She did. Her velocity number remained the same, and the chest glowed deep purple.

"Again."

She did. Her velocity number remained one hundred sixty-five, and the chest glowed a dark purplish-black.

"Show me your hands."

Hermione held her hands up for him to see. They were trembling slightly. He grasped her hands, his thumbs pressing into her palms, making small circles that made her breath catch, and after staring at them for a few heartbeats, he nodded. "What?" she asked, worried.

"You are experiencing the Surge," he said, letting go of her hands.

She looked up at him in shock. "I'm what?"

"The Surge," he repeated. "I read a copy of the report from France. And judging by what I witnessed in your lessons—you are Surging."

Hermione took in what he said and tried to recall what she'd read about the Surge. "My full magical strength—" She looked up at him. "But I don't feel any different."

"You don't feel your magic building within you before you cast your spells?" he asked, his arms crossed and his feet set firmly apart.

She nodded slowly as she thought back to the lesson. "Yes, I—but I was focusing on doing the spells nonverbally, so I thought..."

"Hermione, your magic is finding its balance. When you mature, so does your magic. As you near magical puberty—you're coming of age—your magic surges, wavers, and eventually levels off. However, until it does, you must be very careful until your seventeenth birthday. You can inadvertently cause great harm to another student," he warned her, and she inhaled in shock. "Do not allow your magic to surge out of control. Focus it, draw it, but control it—don't let it control you. If you continue to let it surge each time you use it, you'll never get out of the habit, and you can drain your magical core."

She stood there in silence, taking in what he said. "But I don't feel any different in Charms or Transfiguration?" she said, sounding more like an uncertain question.

"You are," he stated firmly. "You have been drawing on the Surge since June, I believe, especially in tense situations. You will meet with me each week—" he paused, "three times a week until your birthday."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, sir," she replied, wondering how she'd get all her homework done if she was adding extra lessons with him.

~~~~~~~~~((8))~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione arrived precisely at seven as instructed two days later. Severus smirked at her expression when he opened the door to his training room before she'd even knocked on his office door. "Inside, Miss Granger," he intoned, moving aside to let her enter. She immediately set her things down out of the way and faced him expectantly.

"Pull out your wand," he said, watching her intently. "Cast the Stunning Hex three times in quick succession."

Hermione turned and complied. Her aim was perfect and her velocity remarkable, easily topping two hundred. But her strength was in the highest ranges.

Impressive. "Do it again—six times—nonverbally."

He noticed that she paused before each strike, but her strength still registered in the dark purples to near purplish-black, when even a simple Stinging Hex could kill. "You're allowing yourself to Surge," he stated. She turned to face him. "Stop thinking about your magic and just fire," he said, indicating the target dummy with an impatient flick of his hand. "Six times in quick succession."

He watched her carefully. She was concentrating too much. "Stop," he said, reaching out to clasp her wrist and actually felt her magic vibrate in her arm. "Don't worry about pulling on your magic or letting your magic build up—trust it to be there, strong enough to do spell. Focus instead on your intent, your target and your determination."

She tried again, and again, but her results were the same. Her strength remained in the dark purplish shades.

He stared at her, trying to determine the best way to explain it to her. When he'd first heard about the attack in France, he'd been livid with her. She'd naïvely allowed herself to be trapped by two Death Eater recruits, Pierre Baudelaire and Philippe LeFèvres, both of whom Lucien Laurent and Ciarán Montague had tried to bring into the fold. Such naïveté, after everything he'd taught her the previous year, really rankled with him. She, of course, had no idea of her importance, but he did. If things were to come out right, she had to live, to guide Potter and protect him from himself. She needed to survive this war. He would do everything he could to make sure she did.

However, after her last performance in his class, he'd asked permission to review the French Aurory report again and had been startled by a realization that the girl was Surging. There was no other explanation of how Hermione had stood up against three armed, fully mature wizards wandlessly and escaped unharmed. Dumbledore had been so proud.

Now the girl was Surging in her lessons and no one had noticed.

For most Muggle-borns the Surge lasted a month or two, their magic slowly increasing, reaching a plateau, and then easing off as their innate magic found a balance with their magical core. Hermione's birthday was the nineteenth, and all indications suggested that she'd be an early Bloomer, starting her Bloom sometime early next week. In fact, he'd seen some early evidence in the boys already, not that Hermione noticed. He may have felt some of the draw himself, but, after years of teaching, he'd learned to control himself around Blooming young women and chose not to react to them.

However, that also meant that Hermione's magic should have reached the plateau stage already, and it should be starting to ease off… but so far he wasn't sure if it was or not. "Explain to me what you felt when you cast your spells just then?" he asked.

"I can feel my magic build, and if I concentrate on it, I can feel it move, like a current surging through me," she replied.

"And before—last year," he prompted her. "How is it different?"

"It feels alive, stronger, like an electric wave—a deep pressure that builds into… a Surge," she said and blushed. "Like it was described in the book."

He inhaled deeply. And it is not easing off yet… Merlin, help us. "The Surge is a gradual increase in one's power, their magical strength. Up until now your magical energy matched your magical core. Now as you reach magical adulthood, it's like going through a magical puberty, only quicker; your body and magic are changing. But between now and your birthday, you must not concentrate on the build of power, but trust that it will be there for you."

She nodded, and he indicated the target dummy again. "Intent, aim and determination, but keep your strength in the green-blues," he instructed.

She tried a few, but each time the strength indictor turned a dark bluish-purple or deep dark blue.

"Too strong," he said again. "Focus. In the green-blues, not blue-purples." He was quite impressed. She was doing the spell nonverbally, and her attacks were direct hits, even though she was unable to control her strength.

"Rein yourself in," he said as the indicator turned deep blue, then dark indigo blue, and a bright blue with each new hit. "Greens, Hermione, not blues."

~~~~~~~~~((8))~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione left the dungeons Monday evening, feeling deflated. Even after three sessions with Professor Snape, she still had almost no control over her magic at all. The best she'd managed was a deep sea blue, not even a deep sea green, and that was only because she lost her determination altogether. She'd disappointed Professor Snape again; she could see it in his eyes. He'd expected her to do better, to control her magic. Still, her lessons with her professor were far more productive than Harry's had been with Professor Dumbledore, in her opinion.

Hermione had been rather disappointed when Harry told her and Ron what Dumbledore had shown him in his private lessons. Hermione could hardly call them lessons at all. Still, she did understand the importance of knowing more about Voldemort, and she had written down everything Harry had said about the Gaunts, the ring and the Headmaster's hand.

What she needed was a good long swim to clear her head.

~ T. B. .C. ~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~((8))~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Notes:

A few lines were quoted from the US version of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince and denoted with an asterisk.

I made some slight changes to Hermione's, Harry's and Ron's class schedule from what it might be in canon:

Potions: is on Monday and Thursday.

DADA: is on Monday and Friday the same as it is in canon.

Herbology: is on Tuesday, as in canon, and Thursday

Transfiguration: is on Tuesday and Thursday, which differs slightly from canon.

Charms: is on Wednesday, as in canon, and on Friday.

Ancient Runes: is on Monday, as in canon, and Wednesday.

Arithmancy: is on Monday, as in canon, and Wednesday

Alchemy: which I added to Hermione's schedule is on Wednesday and Friday

Language Arts and Mythology: which I had mentioned in her third year is on Tuesday and Friday this year.

Bold: indicates a double lesson. This way, Hermione has a break (period off) each day for revision and angst/adventures or whatever Harry comes up with.

Italics: indicates a lesson Hermione is taking the boys are not.

Mordere means: to bite; to cut into; to nip, sting; to vex, to hurt, pain. Taken from the Latin translation site: .

Infirmare means: to weaken, disable, to make infirm, and Crura is Latin for legs

Taken from the site:

The odor of vetiver oil is described as deep, sweet, woody, smoky, earthy, amber, balsam. The best quality oil is obtained from roots that are 18 to 24 months old.

Oakmoss is heavy and oriental-like at first, becoming very refined when dried. It is reminiscent of damp bark, mossy with a bit of seashore and foliage thrown in – comforting, sensual quality and steadying on a deep level; another description said it had a dry-earthy-mossy, bark-like odor with a subtle leather undertone. I thought this a good scent for men.