A/N: Everything recognisable belongs to JKR
Hermione expected Dumbledore to cancel their meeting in the first week of March. It was being reported in the Daily Prophet that there was a campaign to have him replace the current Minister of Magic, Harold Minchum. Minchum had recently started lobbying to install more dementors at Azkaban and other places of public interest, Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, and Diagon Alley among them, which, despite the tense atmosphere, led to a public outcry against him. She was surprised when he didn't. Their meetings had become sporadic recently, held on unusual days and times, and their Legilimency lessons had stopped altogether, though Hermione had continued to practice in her own time.
He had arranged for this particular meeting on a Thursday morning just after breakfast, and when Hermione ascended the familiar spiral staircase, she could hear a cacophony of voices trailing down the tower. When she knocked at the door of his office, they ceased immediately.
"Good morning, Miss Granger," called Dumbledore.
She peeked around the door. "And you, Professor." She could feel the eyes of several of the portraits on her as she took her usual seat.
Dumbledore offered her toast from the tray that was before him, and when she declined, proceeded to slather a triangle liberally with butter and blackcurrant jam.
"Now, tell me how your studies are going," he requested before taking a bite of his toast. Hermione obliged, filling him in on the extra reading she had done for Potions and Transfiguration (though she wasn't including the information in her homework, it was still nice to discuss it with somebody). She had just found a way to steer the topic of conversation towards the news being reported in the Daily Prophet when he waved his hand, pushing the subject to the side.
"How is your research progressing?" he asked, dusting some crumbs from the front of his robes.
Hermione shook her head, slightly disappointed that he had just refused to discuss the topic with her. "Still no luck. I have a new idea that actually stemmed from a lesson on amortentia, though -"
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.
"Nothing illegal, I assure you," she was quick to add, "but I'm trying to see if memory recall can be stimulated by a potion in the same way that amortentia has a different scent to each user."
Dumbledore seemed reassured by her explanation. "Ah. And what will this scent reveal to the imbiber exactly?"
"I'm not sure. I haven't attempted brewing it yet - I'm still putting together ingredients."
He nodded. "I'll be interested to see what comes of it. Now, tell me, have you had any further troubles with Mr. Potter and Mr. Black?"
Hermione felt her stomach drop but did her best to remain composed. She had a feeling that Dumbledore knew something had happened - after all, how many times had Harry said that Dumbledore mysteriously knew things that he was sure no one had been witness to (and then again, how could he not have known about other things - Bartemius Crouch as Mad-Eye for one?) but she could not give away the events in the corridor. Severus would be devastated.
But then again, he was not acting as though anything were amiss. She did her best to clear her mind and meet his eyes when she answered.
"No, sir," she shook her head. "I believe a chat with Lily Evans has put them in their place."
Dumbledore chuckled lightly at her reply. "Ah, yes, our intimidating Head Girl. I must admit, Mr. Potter and Mr. Black are not the most lenient of individuals. I have probably played host to them in this office more than anyone else I can recall. Please do tell me if you have any further trouble."
Hermione nodded. Dumbledore must have been made aware of Fleamont Potter and his malady and was also attempting to keep an eye on James Potter. At least Lily would have some sort of solace from that. Hermione had the feeling that James and Sirius had not informed her of their encounter in the corridor - Lily had not acted overly exasperated with Hermione or shot her with any dirty looks as she had when she found out about the hospital wing. Hermione hoped that they kept silent about the events in the corridor - she liked Lily, and she wanted to remain on her good side until they graduated. Although she felt guilty about the way it had come about, Hermione was pleased that her threat had yielded results. So far, James and Sirius had not bothered Hermione or Severus, and the snide, taunting remarks that had once been a regular occurrence had ceased.
She thankfully did not have to endure the line of questioning much longer as Dumbledore dismissed her with fifteen minutes to reach her Ancient Runes lesson. She was a little more than relieved to leave his office.
The next week saw this peace continue, and Severus freed up once more, satisfied with the amount of potions stocked for finals in the coming months. With some excitement, they set to work on brewing a memory version of amortentia.
Hermione helped prepare the base of the potion, but it was Severus who had the final say in the variation of ingredients: fresh versus preserved or sliced rather than juiced. When final calculations had been done predicting a product that wouldn't explode or poison them, they had started the base to brew as it needed a week to cure, and set aside the coming Saturday to complete it. Hufflepuff and Gryffindor were playing a Quidditch match, and the school would be fairly empty.
Hermione rose that morning with her stomach in knots. They had tried so many potions before - she was desperate for this one to work. Breakfast seemed to last a lifetime and she was thankful when the Quidditch players rose and paved the way down to the Quidditch pitch for the rest of the school. Severus and Hermione followed the crowd part of the way before breaking off and heading upstairs.
When they reached her workroom, Hermione whispered the password ("Hedwig") and they slipped inside, closing the door firmly behind them. Severus immediately removed his cloak and hung it next to the door. Hermione tied up her hair with one of the ribbons Severus gifted her with.
He gave her a firm nod of approval and then an impish smile graced his lips. "You know, we'll have the whole castle practically to ourselves… This could wait another week." He crossed to her and bent his head toward her neck, nuzzling his nose at her bare skin before kissing her just below her ear. It tickled and she pulled away from him, but his arms were around her before she knew it and he had her pinned to him. When she met his eyes, they were dark with anticipation.
Though they had only become a couple relatively recently, their physical relationship had progressed steadily, urged on by months of tension between them beforehand. How many times had Hermione watched Severus over the past year and wished for him to kiss her? How many times had their hands brushed and she felt something akin to an electric shock shoot up her arm? And those feelings hadn't ceased with the commencement of their relationship. They had grown more and more steadily, though she could indulge in them anytime she wished. She still experienced the same excitement when their lips met, and the same heat of anticipation didn't abate even after they spent hours kissing until their lips were swollen. He set her skin on fire with his touch, and his hands had grown more adventurous over the past month. Although he was mature, Severus was still a teenager in many ways, and was still eager, and Hermione matched him in his eagerness, though she did her best to distract him and remove herself when she felt she may lose her inhibitions.
She shook her head, tapping at his lips with her finger. Now was definitely not the time to play with those boundaries. "Work first, play later."
"I'm holding you to that promise," he said as he turned toward her workbench, pulling ingredients towards him. She joined him, changing cauldrons over the burner and getting the fire going. The initial assembly of ingredients went relatively quick, but when it came time to add the mistletoe berries and jobberknoll feathers, Hermione couldn't help but hold her breath.
Severus dropped them gently into the cauldron and began to stir it clockwise. The mixture turned a deep cerulean blue, the color turning more and more even as he moved the stirring rod. Hermione was mesmerised. She could not recall ever brewing a potion that looked so beautiful.
"That needs at least ten minutes," he said, setting the stirring rod aside. They watched the cauldron, mesmerised as small bubbles began to break the surface and pop with silver shimmers. From everything she could see, it looked promising.
After about five minutes, the simmer shifted into a rolling boil that began to swirl on its own. Severus grabbed her arm and pulled her back from the cauldron by at least a good meter and a half in one swift motion.
The room began to fill with vapor from the cauldron, great lavender clouds of smoke that reminded Hermione of candy floss. She raised her wand, but Snape stopped her. "It's not poisonous - a bit unexpected, but not harmful. That will be the crushed jobberknoll feathers interacting with the mistletoe berries - they must have dissolved just now. I'm just taking precautions."
She watched the steam crawl up the walls of the room and congregate in the corners, shimmering like some sort of phantasm until it suddenly dissipated. The cauldron continued to spew this for another five minutes until Snape directed his wand at the flame below the cauldron and extinguished it. When the air finally cleared, the room filled with a sickly sticky odor. "Smells like…" Hermione drew a deep breath, trying to place the scent.
"A bonfire," Snape cut in. "And popcorn." His nostrils flared as he drew in another breath and closed his eyes.
"No - no… sticky toffee pudding." The smell made her feel as though she was on the verge of remembering something. It was just there, tickling her brain. She couldn't help but beam at him - the fact that they could smell two different things...
"Severus, I know this sounds a bit risky, but I want to test it. Where's the dropper?"
Severus grabbed it but paused before extracting any of the potion. "Wait," he said, shaking his head. "Dobo," he called.
Dobo appeared obligingly in front of them with a sudden pop. "Master Severus, sir?"
"What does this room smell like to you?" he asked.
"Smell like, sir?" The elf repeated, his gravelly voice hesitant in his question.
"Yes - what does it remind you of?" Severus clarified.
The elf took a deep breath that made its long nose quiver. "Chocolate, sir."
"And does it make you think of anything?"
The elf shook his head. "I smells it all the time in the kitchen, sir."
"I am going to give you a few drops of this potion, Dobo. It will not harm you."
The elf opened his mouth obediently and Severus siphoned some potion into the dropper before placing it on the elf's tongue.
Hermione's hands had moved to her mouth, her fingers worrying at her lips in anticipation as she watched.
"How does it make you feel, Dobo? What does it remind you of? What are you thinking about?"
Dobo swallowed the potion obediently. His pink tongue ran over his thin lips in search of more and his eyes grew slightly glassy. "Dobo is a young elf, sir, and we is making chocolate tarts for the feast. Dobo is so hungry, sir, and the tarts, they looked so good, but Dobo was a bad elf. Dobo took one, sir, and Dobo ate it, and Dobo's mother taught him to punish himself... But Dobo ate that tart, and it was heaven, sir."
"Good, Dobo. Thank you," Severus nodded. "Do you feel ill at all?"
Dobo shook his head. "No, sir."
"Thank you, Dobo. That is all." The elf disappeared with a crack.
Hermione rushed to Severus' side, bouncing on her toes in anticipation as she watched him fill two phials with the potion.
"Shall we?" he asked, but her hand was already reaching for it. He lifted his phial toward hers, clinking them together before lifting it to his lips and downing the potion.
She did the same.
The potion felt like jelly on her tongue despite its thin consistency, and tasted of… she couldn't quite place it. Something not quite fruity and not quite sweet, but she didn't have long to dwell on it before a memory rose to the front of her mind, and her whole body filled with a sensation of warmth.
She was with her grandfather, her paternal one, one that she had always been told that she was too young to remember, and he had taken her to a village fete. She could see his sharp blue eyes clearly, his flat cap, and the spot where he had cut himself shaving that morning. He had bought her a sticky bun and jokingly begged the stallperson to drizzle an extra helping of toffee sauce on top. "Poor girl never gets sweet treats - mum and dad are dentists, you see."
The stallholder laughed and obliged. When Hermione went home, her face was absolutely covered with the sticky sauce and her parents were completely exasperated.
He had died not long after.
Hermione met Severus' eyes.
"Whatever we've done - if we can tie that to something specific - that's amazing." she exhaled.
Severus nodded cautiously, but his lips were curled into a slight frown. "It's still not specifically targeting memories - it's that age-old question - how do you know what you've forgotten?"
She shook her head. "I don't care. This is - this is something. Should we try it on the mice?" she asked.
He reached for the dropper and she crossed to the cage, pulling out the first one to cross to her hand. After a few curious sniffs, its little mouth met the dropper eagerly and when Hermione was satisfied that it had swallowed the potion, she dropped it at the beginning of the maze.
It didn't do anything. It did not run forward or backward, but sat where it had been dropped, sniffing at the air expectantly.
"See?" he asked.
"Let's try another," she said, picking it up and replacing it with another mouse. It, too, was eager to take the potion. Hermione set it at the beginning of the maze.
After a moment of cautious sniffing, it began to run the length of the maze - in the original pattern it had been taught. There was no pause, there was no hesitation, and it took every correct turn until it reached the original end.
Hermione reached out and gripped Severus' arm. She felt as though she couldn't breathe.
He slid his hand up to clasp it in his own and gave it a tight squeeze. "I'm not going to say 'don't get your hopes up' - but remember the tests before," he warned. "Give it some time to make sure it settles in."
"Yes," she choked out, rushing to scrub away the tears that had filled her eyes. She took a deep breath and felt his arm go around her shoulder.
"Should we test the third?" he asked. "Just to make sure."
"Yes."
Although the third test was as unsuccessful as the first, after a few days, the second mouse still remembered and followed the original path. She was hopeful, though. If they could, as Severus suggested, find something to make it target particular memories, it would be exactly what she was looking for.
Despite exams drawing near, Hermione found it difficult to concentrate in their lessons over the next week. Her mind kept drifting to potions ingredients to add to target or to strengthen the potion, and different possibilities of combinations they could add to make variants. If they added ginkgo biloba, would it target long-term memories? If they added augurey feathers, would it target sad memories?
Severus seemed to be fine with her inattention and even seemed to find it amusing at times until he had to nudge her to pay attention more than once in potions. Even Slughorn noticed she wasn't completely present in the lesson, but let her off with a slight teasing. "Ah, spring is almost here, Miss Granger. Are you feeling a bit twitterpated?" He nudged Severus slightly and with a wiggle of his eyebrows, left, leaving Severus looking very sour behind him.
"I would have let you make mistakes if I weren't sitting right next to you," hissed Severus after Slughorn moved on from their table. "Get your head back in the classroom, Granger." Hermione winced at his use of "Granger" - he was extra annoyed.
She never thought that she was one to be so inattentive, but although he was annoyed, Severus understood and kept reminding her that she had other priorities as well. "That was like me when I realized about the potions ingredients. I wanted to comb every recipe and brew it to make sure it really was the best variation of it - but if you don't keep your focus, Granger, your NEWTS will show for it."
The word NEWTS snapped her out of it - the beginning of their exams were only two short months away, and she still had homework to do on top of revising! She drew herself up a new timetable prioritising her classroom work and leaving her time with the potion to the weekends and only after she had finished any assigned work. She provided a copy to Severus as well for accountability, something he was overly pleased to enforce if he noticed her attention straying. The first time he noticed, he had charmed the ends of her hair to turn green - and the longer she stayed unfocused, the further up toward her scalp it moved. It was simple but effective. When she turned back to her work, the color would recede.
They were seated together in the library one day, working on their essays for Transfiguration that was due later that week. They had been working together for about half an hour, trading texts back and forth in their cross-referencing before a gravelly voice startled them out of their concentration.
"Prince."
Severus' head snapped up at the interruption, looking around them.
Hermione looked up as well. Macnair was nearby, a few other Slytherins hanging behind. She was used to interruptions - Severus was still running his little potions business on the side, of course - but this was odd.
"Excuse me," Snape set his book down, jumping up to join them. There was a quick exchange of words that were too low for Hermione to hear. Severus was in agreement with whatever it was - she saw him give a terse nod and motion toward the shelves.
The group made their way down into the stacks and despite being several cases away, Hermione could still see slivers of the group through the gaps in the bookcases.
Hermione did her best to not pay attention but it was difficult to ignore the head motions made in her direction, and Severus' disapproving reply.
He returned after a further five minutes.
"What was that about?" she asked, curling a green-tipped end of hair around her quill.
"Homework."
She rolled her eyes.
He picked up his book again, a clear indicator that the subject was closed.
He didn't appear in her workroom that evening after dinner, and she awoke the next morning in the dormitory to the noise of frantic whispering.
"I don't know - I haven't seen it, but the Fat Lady's been ordered to keep us in the Tower, and James said he'd seen something, but didn't want to say what -" Lily's voice was low and quick.
"What's happened?" Hermione asked, her voice thick with sleep.
"Oh, you're awake," Lily pulled her bedcurtains aside, and Hermione had to shield her eyes from the sudden invasion of light. "Did you know?"
"Did I know what?"
"Something's happened - we're not allowed out of the Tower. What did the Slytherins do this time?"
Hermione couldn't keep the scowl off her face as she sat up and rubbed her eyes. "How am I to know?"
"Well…" Lily held her hands out in a prompting gesture as though the answer should be obvious.
"Just because I keep company with one Slytherin in particular does not mean that I am privy to the secrets of the whole house. And how would you know it's something to do with Slytherin anyway? That's a bit presumptive."
Sita jumped in. "Oh, please - they're the only ones who would even think to disrupt the school enough for something like this -"
"And it's not like James and Sirius weren't the cause of the Yule Ball being cancelled indefinitely, hmm?" asked Hermione. She was frustrated, appalled at being attacked like this first thing. She had liked Sita and Lily, but didn't appreciate their accusatory tones. The only person who hadn't said anything was Mary, who she could see standing behind the pair, biting her nails. "And what about Michael Gibson? He was a Ravenclaw. Anyone - anyone from ANY house - even Gryffindor - could have done anything."
Lily's face had gone slightly pink. She sighed and sat down heavily on her bed.
Mary chose that moment to speak up. "Jean's right. It's unfair to jump to conclusions. Like the Sorting Hat said, we should be trying to stick together rather than cling to our differences and separate…"
"I appreciate the apology," Hermione said pointedly towards Lily, swinging herself out of bed.
"But do you know what's happened, Jean?" Mary asked timidly.
"No, I don't." But she had a strong suspicion that it may have had something to do with Severus' aloofness and mysterious disappearance the day before.
The girls were in the middle of getting dressed when there were calls for food from the common room.
They went downstairs to find impromptu tables set up and every surface covered with piping hot food: fresh scrambled eggs, steaming sausages, mountains of toast. Lots of people were breakfasting on the floor. Some students took their plates back up to their dormitories. Hermione grabbed an apple and sat at the edge of the room, watching James and Sirius hold court next to the fire, shaking their heads and making a bit show of knowing something but being too aware of the delicate sensibilities of other students to say anything. Hermione was thankful she stayed when the portrait hole swung open to reveal Professor McGonagall climbing through, looking a bit tired.
She was grateful for the ever reliable, unflappable Professor McGonagall, who didn't betray anything other than extreme annoyance.
"Classes will resume shortly, so no getting your hopes up. Professor Dumbledore would like to see everyone in the Great Hall in the next fifteen minutes. Finish up your breakfasts and get a move on." She flicked her wand toward the middle of the room where a timer appeared and began to count down.
"What's happened, Professor?" asked a keen fifth-year prefect who reminded Hermione of Percy Weasley.
"Nothing to worry about. Dumbledore will speak to you all about it shortly."
Hermione finished her apple and stood, straightening her skirt. She followed the crowd of Gryffindors climbing through the portrait hole and making their way down to the Great Hall, hoping to catch a glimpse of Severus, and maybe pull him aside for a quick word to see if he knew anything.
There was a steady stream of Slytherins making their way up from the dungeons, but she didn't see Severus among them. It was only minutes before Dumbledore entered the Great Hall that she saw him slip in with several of the older Slytherins and Professor Slughorn, discreetly taking places at the table. He didn't look in her direction, but fixed his attention toward the front of the room where Dumbledore had risen to address the school.
"I am sure you are all wondering what prompted the enforced lie-in this morning. Never fear - you will be released to your classes within the next half hour," this drew a groan from a number of students. "We seem to have discovered some rather troublesome graffitti and flyers placed around the school sometime overnight. This graffiti and literature expressed views that will not be tolerated at this institution. Hogwarts is and always will be open to anyone magical, regardless of their heritage.
"Everything has been removed, but I want to encourage every single one of you to approach us if you feel that you are being discriminated against or if you do not feel welcome here. Hogwarts is your home and you should not feel unsafe or unwanted here.
"Bullying of other students will not be tolerated. You are here to learn, not to push personal agendas, and if you are observed doing so, do not be surprised to find yourself being invited to have a chat with myself. You have been warned."
Despite Dumbledore's effort to be vague about what had been posted, there were rumors about it by lunchtime. Massive recruitment posters to join the Death Eaters, said one student. Mudbloods are filth, said another. Unfortunately, nearly everything was believable.
Later when she met up with Severus in his workroom, she tried to broach the subject.
"That was odd, this morning," she remarked as she took her usual seat on the couch. "I wonder what was so bad that we had to stay in our rooms."
"Hmm," came his only reply. Though he was tight-lipped on that morning's events, after a few days he was back to his usual acerbic self.
Though the mood over the school darkened after the incident, it didn't take long for another distraction to rip through the student body: someone had smuggled in copies of a racy new novel with explicit illustrations that were being traded among the older students. It seemed as though Hermione passed a group of girls huddled around a copy almost daily, though the Professors never seemed to be able to confiscate the books. Though there were still a few mutterings here and there, the hushed whispers she heard now usually had a tone of scandal to them rather than worry, which was comforting in its own way.
Dumbledore had planned to cancel their next meeting, and sent a note of regret to her during breakfast nearly a week later. When she received it, she shook her head and scribbled out a quick reply.
Dear Headmaster,
I really do think we should meet at your earliest convenience.
HG
She attached it back to the owl's leg and watched it fly up to the head table. Dumbledore was unfazed at the owl landing before him and didn't even pause his conversation with Professor McGonagall as he gave her note a quick once-over. His next movement was natural, and she would have missed it had she not been watching him so eagerly, but he swept his eyes over the house tables and their eyes met, and he gave her the briefest of nods.
After Arithmancy later that day, a second year student was waiting for her outside the classroom. "Are you Jean Granger?" she asked.
Hermione nodded.
The girl sighed in relief. "Professor Dumbledore wants to see you in his office."
Hermione's heart leapt into her chest as she muttered a quick "Thanks" and headed for her lab to retrieve one of the phials, and make her way to the headmaster's office.
By the time she reached the statue, she could hardly contain her excitement as she said the password ("Ice Mice") and by the time she reached the top of the staircase, she was practically bouncing on her toes. The incident with the recruitment campaign and her suspicions about Severus' involvement had dimmed her enthusiasm for her project, but now that she had the opportunity to show someone new what they had accomplished, it had returned nearly twice as strong.
She didn't even bother greeting Dumbledore when she burst into his office and held out the phial toward him.
"I'm on the right path," she stated in greeting, urging him to take it.
"Hello, Miss Granger. Pleased to see you," he said, lowering his gaze toward the phial. Hermione could hear one of the portraits mumbling something about manners.
"Sorry, Headmaster - but this - this is it."
He took it hesitantly and tapped his wand to it a few times, a steady stream of incantations escaping under his breath. His wand shot out golden sparks at one point. After a few minutes, he seemed satisfied with the results of his test. It did not contain poison.
"Have you tested it?"
"Yes. Though it did not have a one hundred percent test rate on the mice, one of them has regained their memories, but I have taken the potion myself, as has another student, and we have not suffered any ill effects."
Dumbledore eyed the phial curiously against the light before he uncorked it.
"Smell it first, sir."
He lifted the phial to his crooked nose, taking a cautious whiff.
"It has a unique smell for every person. Just like the amortentia. Do you remember I said…?"
Dumbledore nodded but did not bother to answer her inquiry. "Mmm… nice fresh sea air."
He lifted the phial to his lips and downed the contents. After a moment, he began to giggle. "Oh my," he laughed. "I had completely forgotten about that. What a lovely accomplishment, Miss Granger."
"It works in some capacity - I would be curious to see how well it works on someone who has been obliviated. Do you think St. Mungo's…"
"Certainly. Dilys, what do you think?" He turned to the wall of portraits. Dilys' eyes sprung open at his query.
"Healer Potts is quite progressive and probably would not be averse to a trial." Her painted silver hair bobbed enthusiastically as she nodded.
"Are they trustworthy?"
"Potts will always act in the best interest of the patient and can be quite discreet."
"Do you have more of this, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore turned back to her and tapped the empty phial.
Hermione nodded. "I still have some in my lab. Shall I go get it?"
"Please."
Hermione left the office, her heart pounding. Dumbledore thought her potion had merit - if she could just get St. Mungo's to help her run some trials…
When she returned with the potion, an additional party was standing next to Dumbledore when she arrived. She was wearing a St. Mungo's uniform and was middle aged with curly grey hair and rather stout. She reminded Hermione of Molly Weasley. She could only deduce that she was Healer Potts.
"What this then? Show me what you have, girl. I have a meeting in half an hour."
Hermione passed the phial to her.
Dumbledore spoke as she was evaluated it, passing her wand over it several times and holding it up to the light. She shook it, causing the blue liquid inside to briefly turn silver. "I have tested it myself and can verify that there have been no ill effects. It's actually quite pleasant."
Before Healer Potts uncorked the phial and lifted it to her lips, Dumbledore's tone turned sober. "What happens in this office must remain between us for the time being. Miss Granger is here under special circumstances. To spread anything about this could endanger her life," he warned rather gravely. Hermione was startled by his comment, but did her best to brush it off as his trying to emphasize the need for Healer Potts to remain silent on the potion and trial.
Healer Potts shook hands with him and nodded before she uncorked the potion. She gave it a quick sniff before drinking it back.
"I'm assuming you used ashwinder eggs and jobberknoll feathers?" Healer Potts asked her after a moment of contemplation.
"Yes, of course."
"Though there's something different," she was running her tongue over her teeth, searching for the taste.
"The mistletoe berries are fresh rather than pickled," Hermione offered.
"Yes - there's no aftertaste of vinegar that usually accompanies them. Clever."
"Do you think it would be possible to test this on someone with a long-term memory damage?" Hermione asked eagerly.
Healer Potts' face darkened ."That's going to be difficult. Here I've been sworn to secrecy - what am I to tell the family? And I can't bring them here - you'll need to come to the hospital."
"That can be arranged," chimed in Dumbledore.
"Can you not just say you're going to try something experimental?" asked Hermione. They had done it for Mr. Weasley.
"And get their hopes up?" She pursed her lips and considered the phial once more. "I'll see what I can do. I'll send word, Dumbledore. Make sure you keep this on hand, girl."
After a quick nod and check of her watch, Healer Potts disappeared down the staircase.
"What a productive evening!" exclaimed Dumbledore, clapping his hands together. "Congratulations, Miss Granger. You should be very proud of yourself - with a bit more work, I'm sure you'll come to a complete success rate."
Hermione couldn't help but enjoy the warm glow that filled her at his praise. It was almost enough to make her worry over his comment earlier disappear.