Disclaimer: The same as the previous chapters.
Chapter 9
Dr. Grangers took pride in their small yet colorful garden covering every inch of their front lawn. Edmond and Rosaline always wanted their little Hermione to cherish and thrive in the laps of nature. Gardening at the Granger household was more like a custom. Placing small delicate seeds into Hermione's little chubby palms the father and the mother had taught her about how to cherish the joy of growing life. The pleasure of watching seedlings nudging their heads through damp earth and growing skyward or creeping all over the place was a wonderful sight to see.
From the very beginning, they knew their daughter was special. People overwhelmed her; she wasn't really shy but there was something that would hold her back from mixing with the other children who frequented the neighborhood playground. Strange things happened around their small bundle of joy whose wild chestnut hair stood at odd angles throughout the day, earning her the name "Bushy Head". Hermione was observant, inquisitive, quick-witted, and assertive when armed with knowledge, making her the least favorite kid in the block. Things didn't improve much when she started school. But the parents were quick to help her find new alternatives. They encouraged her to take up hobbies, activities to keep her mind engaged.
The sudden arrival of Professor Minerva McGonagall at their doorstep one cloudy morning of July, five years ago had answered all their prayers. Things finally made sense. Seated in between her baffled parents, the relieved and beaming witch had exclaimed, "See, I told you I had nothing to do with Samantha blowing steam out of her ears, only somehow I know I did," then staring down at her hands she had turned her palm inside out and had mumbled in awe, "I got magic in me!"
The old and experienced witch with square glasses, pointy hat and slightly wrinkled hands had chuckled and nodded at her. Fishing out a big fat book from within her robes, the woman had tapped on the cover and had informed, "This book will tell you much more about Hogwarts, the school of witchcraft and wizardry." Hermione on her part had accepted it like a treasured item. From beside her, Dr. Granger had shaken his head, explaining to the deputy headmistress, "Smarts just loves books. She would rather put books in her vault instead of money." The eleven-year-old bushy-haired girl had looked up and glared at the man," Don't be silly, Daddy! you only told me, vaults are this small, how on earth can I manage to store away my library in such a tiny place!" then turning back to the visitor she had enquired blushing a bit, "how could you carry such a big book in you dress pockets, was that magic as well?"
McGonagall had burst out laughing hard, secretly glad that she would enjoy teaching this girl. What she had told her next had made Hermione fall in love with her then and there. "Oh! well! Miss Granger, there are quite a number of things you can do with magic. But you would need a wand for that. We at Hogwarts are going to teach you how to use it to your full capacity. But remember, underage witches and wizards, aren't allowed to perform magic outside school. And you are not supposed to tell anyone you are a witch. It's a well-guarded secret."
Once she started attending Hogwarts, her parents would eagerly wait for her to return during the holidays. Together they would go to the market to get pots and saplings, grab a quick meal at the diner which made Hermione's favourite fish and chips, then drop her at "Bookaholic" a decent bookstore with a large display window, before going to their dental clinic. The bookstore was run by Mr. Rodrick Clerk who was well versed with her reading habits and would already keep a stack of books ready for her to plow through.
Right after discovering that library nook, Hermione had written back a long letter telling her rather surprised parents things she had been reading in Architecture Magica. There was so much she wanted to do in their little garden.
"Mum there are spells that can extend our living room big enough to hold a wedding party. And you can use it to kind of extend everything that comes to your mind. Oh, and there are charms and spells which monitor the weather, I have heard all about it from professor Sprout who teaches us herbology. Professor Flitwick mentioned the charm which we could put on our ceiling so that we can see the night sky with star twinkling, almost like the ceiling of the Great Hall, and remember I told you about Mandrakes, those really scream like newborn babies…"
Her mother had chuckled by just imagining the deep scowl that would appear on her daughter's almond-shaped face. At the very end of the long winding letter the daughter had written, " Well we will need to call a rain check on all of that. I just remembered I am not supposed to do magic outside school. That doesn't sound right, does that? Now how am I supposed to do homework or even prepare for the next term once I get my new books from Diagon Alley? I will try and ask Professor McGonagall first thing in the morning..."
Every day at the crack of dawn, the Granger residence would be up and out on the front lawn. The three of them would watch the morning grow brighter, then tend to the rows of roses, phlox, and peony. While her father would water the bellflowers and her mother would pluck a small bunch of fresh blooms, Hermione would keep talking about things she had learnt in herbology and potions, waving her hand to emphasize a point as she weeded the flower beds.
The couple had installed a birdbath and a feeder for the neighbourhood squirrels and small birds while she was away at Hogwarts for the first time. Edmond had patted his daughter's head while she was back for Christmas, pointing at the two additions in the garden and said, "I was missing my constantly chattering and skipping Smarts, so thought better to call the birds and chipmunks home."
Around 8 o'clock the family would gather around the kitchen cook a quick breakfast and then sharp at half past nine the couple would drive off to their clinic, leaving the witch to enjoy the quiet home. Watching the lavenders sway in the breezy monsoon air, Hermione fiddled with the corner of her Advanced Charms lost in thought.
Though nothing had changed in her much-secluded muggle world, she had a feeling it wasn't going to stay like that for long. She could clearly remember the grim look that crossed over Professor McGonagall's face when she bade her goodbye. Dumbledore's cheerful speech at the year-ending feast sounded more like a guarded warning. She could tell even his smile had failed to reach up to his twinkling mischievous eyes. Most of the student body had rejoiced at his return, while a handful of Slytherins sat at their table forcing themselves to clap against their will.
Argus Filch's public apology had shocked everyone. Holding Mrs. Norris in his arms, the horrible, pouchy, and pasty-faced man had cleared his throat and mumbled a speech that Hermione was certain someone else had helped him in preparing. She noticed Hagrid nodding his head, while Madam Sprout and Professor Flitwick looking quite surprised by the gesture. Professor McGonagall had sat back watching the caretaker intently while the Headmaster had beamed. Professor Snape was glowering at his goblet and the Gryfindor student had a niggling thought, perhaps Filch's apologies weren't enough for the man. That idea made more sense to her at that moment than Flilch's wheezing voice.
"I am sorry I stood back and allowed many of the students to get punished so harshly." and then he had almost complained about the young student body never considering his troubles and breaking rules. Finnigan and Thomas did whisper, "That last bit somehow didn't sound so rehearsed," while Ron and Neville had opined, "the old bloke truly looks remorseful." Harry had shrugged while Hermione kept quiet. She would rather wish to see the man stop acting so vile and the students amend their ways before sharing her opinion on the matter.
This summer break things had turned quite different. Not a single night went without having nightmares and dreams of Dolohov casting the curse and Harry dueling with Voldemort, sometimes winning and sometimes losing the battle as she lay immobilized right across the dais. But before she could actually manage to see either of them die, a dark billowing column of smoke whisked her off to a hollow place and delivered her in the arms of that unknown red-haired woman.
When she was not dreaming of the red-haired woman or the column of smoke, she was having nightmares about Sirius escaping the Veil but Harry getting lost behind its tattered black curtains. She could understand why she had dreamt of Ron sprouting tentacles and growing an extra head or Neville helping the aurors capture Bellatrix and Luna and Ginny incapacitating the rest of the death eaters with bag bogey hexes. But the image of Draco Malfoy's molten silver-blue eyes begging her to recuse him from the clutches of a swamp full of Inferi seemed real and haunting.
Drenched in sweat the witch sat in her twisted bedsheets, folding her knees close to her chest and crying into her pillow. If she had the luxury she would run into her parents' room, tuck her head in her mother's waiting arms and cry her heart out. Rubbing her cheeks furiously, she reminded herself this was what war looked like. People died, got tortured, and killed before their time. Scrambling up to her desk, the witch twisted her hair into a messy bun flipped on the study lamp and grabbed the worn-out journal.
It was a parting gift from her parents. Her mother had placed it on her lap while her father had smiled down at her from the doorway. "Alright, I won't pretend Smarts, I am not jealous that you can do magic and I can't. Honestly, Rose, we would give anything to vanish off all that blood and mute away those screams of kids walking in our clinic and calling us monsters," Dr. Granger had winked at his giggling daughter while her mother had hugged her sideways and said, "Hermione, this is not an ordinary journal. I think this is much like you, magical. Write down everything you ever want to in it and your secret will stay safe."
Joining the weepy mother and daughter, Edmund had hugged them both and whispered into Hermione's ears, "Smarts, I want you to have a great adventure. Cheer up, shoulders straight, and no more tears. Have all the fun and study as much as you can."
Cracking open the cover, she had found the memo receipt of Winstanley's Bookstore & Stationers on Vauxhall Road, though the ink of the date and the price and the name of the buyer were faint and unreadable.
The pages were thick and apart from the date box on top of the first page, there was nothing else in it. She had looked at her parents but they looked as clueless as she. Until her mother had flipped over the back cover and pointed at the embossed letters etched inside. "Strange journal indeed, but we thought it got to be special because it's got your birthday printed right there and it is supposed to be a never-ending diary."
Running her trembling finger over the same embossed letters, Hermione reread the name of the printer "Hook Vault Press". Right after Ginny Weasley's incident with Riddle's Diary, she had looked up the yellow pages to ascertain the existence of the dogy printer of her diary. Nothing came up, finally, she had gone and asked Mr. Clerk, the dwarf shopkeeper of "Bookaholic". The man had tapped his finger over his chaffed lips and had confirmed, "Hook Vault" Ah! I knew them. Had to close down about ten years ago. The owner got bankrupt or something. Small printing house, published a handful of this and that."
Flipping over several pages, she halted on the entry made on the day Harry had saved the Philosopher's Stone from Professor Quirrell and Voldemort. right on top of the entry where she had put down every single experience she had, once the three friends had managed to put the three-headed giant dog called Fluffy to sleep, was Professor Snape's puzzle.
"Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,
Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,
One among us seven will let you move ahead,
Another will transport the drinker back instead,
Two among our number hold only nettle wine,
Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.
Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore,
To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:
First, however slyly the poison tries to hide
You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;
Second, different are those who stand at either end,
But if you would move onwards, neither is your friend;
Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,
Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;
Fourth, the second left and the second on the right
Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight."
Hermione Granger had her reasons for desperately wanting to hold on to the puzzle. She dearly wanted to take that piece of parchment back to her dorm and save it somewhere deep in her trunk. She felt she had the right to do that. But she really couldn't do take it away. Instead, she had simply learned up the whole thing and had gone back to inform the other teachers. Between alerting the staff, talking to Madam Pomphrey, and watching Ron getting treated she had gone on and on chanting that poem under her breath. When at least she had been sent off to her dorm room, she had grabbed the journal and written down the whole thing. Harry had helped them to get past Fluffy, reminded her about the Devil's snare, and had flown up to retrieve the crooked key with wings. Ron had helped them cross the giant board of Wizard's Chess. But it was she who had helped Harry continue by cracking Snape's Puzzle.
To begin with, she had never pinned the tall, lean, sour tempered, and shamelessly bias man as poetic. Leave aside poetry, Professor Snape would never find it in himself to marvel at prose. He was no different than his hissing and bubbling potions, she would think each time the man returned her homework with unreasonable remarks scribbled all over the margins. Yet the man had at the end surprised her. She had waited for him to acknowledge her feat, but Snape had ignored her and called her, "know-it-all" almost every potion class throughout her second year. She had taken a leaf from Ron's invisible book of wise wizard's advice, "Snape is a selfish git, end of the story," and had gone back to concentrating on her studies.
Running her fingers over those letters, recalling the seven potion bottles that challenged her intelligence by sitting there in that underground room, she started reading it once again, this time trying to imagine the Potion Master's rich baritone voice in her mind. The more she thought about it the more that rich velvety echo of Snape's voice had turned concerned, gentle, soft, and caring. Tears pricked at her eyes as she grabbed a quill and started writing the few fragments of the nightmare that woke her up in the first place.
The special stack of twelve potions was well hidden in her School Potion Kit. Among them, Madam Pomphrey had included a small bottle of Dreamless Sleep. During the first few nights Hermione had struggled, but the thought of Harry's blank expression and sleepless, bloodspot eyes had helped her gather herself. There was no denying that war was upon them, the Dark Side had already claimed two innocent lives. She found it difficult to find such an easy escape, knowing well, that she was surfacing from Survior's guilt. But so was Harry and perhaps Neville as well.
Ron had taken the Battle at the Ministry as an opportunity to feel confident about himself. He had already helped Gryffindors win the quidditch match and now was fully ripping the fruit from retelling long tales involving brain tentacles and whatnot to whosoever from the Dumbledore's Army wanted to hear. She couldn't blame him neither could she participate in those storytelling sessions. Her mind had always wondered back to Harry who refused to stay in the Common Room.
The-Boy-who-lived, 'the lone voice of truth' as quoted by the Prophet was yet to talk about Sirius Black silently begging every well-wisher to keep their distance and let him just try to find his feet back. It was painful for her to watch him walk behind his unloving muggling life pushing his trolley with dropped shoulders. The gathered party of wizards and witches did put a smile on his face, but Hermione could feel this time around her friend would need more than just a group encouragement.
Then there were those other worries that had gnawed at her conscience. The dementors had attacked Harry in a muggle neighbourhood. Although no one else saw much into it after learning it was a part of Umbridge's sinister plan, Hermione was not convinced. She was more worried about her parents, being Harry's best friend had got her noticed long enough. As the witch watched the sky grow paler with the hint of approaching dawn, she chewed her lips and prayed reverently, "We badly need a good DADA teacher this time around, or else we are doomed."
Applying the salve Madam Poppy Pomphrey had given her right after the shower, she grabbed a fresh t-shirt with long sleeves and dashed down the stairs taking two at a time. Today was her turn to make the tea and she didn't wish to be late. The whole process of heating the kettle, watching the steam rise, and then adding the leaves calmed her down. The whole process of cooking was not very different from brewing potions. "Does that mean, professor Snape, is a great cook as well?", mumbling under her breath in the empty kitchen, the witch giggled as her daydreaming took the shape of Hogwarts grand kitchen with Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall seated at a table and Snape barking orders at covering house-elves while stomping around the whole place, his billowing black robes swishing in the hot air.
Her mother entered followed by her father and she noticed at once, they were fully dressed.
Rosaline got a mug from the cabinet and poured out some tea informing, "We need to go to the store today. The delivery person's truck broke down. Got two early appointments. Don't worry, we will be home two hours early."
The woman had finally looked at her daughter. It was her turn to frown, "What's with long sleeves, for god's sake, love, you need to get more sun? Look at you? You've grown all pale and thin? I think I should write a letter to your teacher…"
Sputtering into her mug, the daughter tried to come up with an excuse, "I am learning the best way to hide my wand. We need to hide it in our arm holsters, but I am not so quick at getting it out. I really want to do better in Defence Against Dark Arts next year. And somehow tucking it in the back pocket seems risky."
Her father quipped at that, "Yay, in case you don't wish to vanish your butt! What? It's possible isn't it?!" while her mother found it difficult to decide whether to laugh or scold her husband for teasing their daughter who was trying to stare down at the smiling man.
Smirking Hermione, said, "Mum, that's fine. I will tend the garden, and do some homework."
"There are some leftovers in the freezer," half convinced the mother replied, patting the girl's arm," and if you feel, you can order some take away as well."
Watching her parent's car drive off the young witch smiled to herself, 'take away, the simple pleasure of the muggle world, something Ron would find absolutely splendid.'
Slamming the door shut and throwing a couple of horrid jinx and hexes at the windows and the doors of his Spinner's End house, Severus Snape smirked when he heard a distant yelp from inside. On Bellatrix's incessant whining the Dark Lord had sent Peter Pettigrew to keep an eye on him. The sniffling rat with gleaming eyes had been all too glad to be able to serve their master.
Severus had given him the dirtiest of the rooms. It was rather a closet where his father would lock him up whenever he did those 'freaky things'. He had patched up his parents' old room which was a little bigger than the one he used to stay in before attending Hogwarts. The castle and its many luxuries had forced the man to make the space livable. Only the windows would always to covered with dark curtains and candles would burn from dawn to dusk, replicating the atmosphere of the Slytherin dungeons.
Walking out into the street, mindful of the flickering light, Snape thought back of the exact events that forced him to tolerate Pettigrew's presence for the rest of the term break. The silver tongued Dark Lord had the best way to put it," Severus, my faithful servant, it must be quite boring staying alone at that sordid dwelling, I wonder why you keep refusing Narcissa's invitation to stay at the Manor instead? Ah! But to keep the Old couth satisfied. Now, would it be too difficult to play a perfect host to Peter this time around? He is slow but has proven to be quite a faithful servant."
Severus was still trembling at the feet of his master's throne while Pettigrew was shaking from the fresh bouts of Crutiatus Curse Bellatrix had just inflicted upon him. Through his chattering teeth, Snape had promised Voldemort, "As the master wishes."
Unlike many half blood wizards, Snape knew about his lineage from the beginning and hated everything about the muggle world. He hated Cokeworth, because that place never stopped smelling of death and decay. He hated his father who never bothered to acknowledge him as his son let alone love. He despised his broken down Snipper's end house because it reminded him of his alcoholic father and his belt, it brought memories of his mother's muffled cries and clawed at his heart for being a gangly helpless kid who grew up uncared and unloved much like an orphan.
Snape always preferred to stay at Hogwarts. It was the only thing close to home for him, yet around every term break Albus Dumbledore insisted," Just go home!"
Poppy Pomphrey would jest," Oh dear! You need a little change," and he would stare back at her coldly, " You know very well Poppy he just loves to banish me once every year."
He would curse, hiss and snarl, pack a small bundle and apparate from the gates of Hogwarts missing the place almost instantly. Snipper's End had so many miserable memories that he wished he could just set fire to it and be done with it right away. It still echoed with his mother's cries and his father's shouts, it still smelt of blood, vomit, and mold. Something even his magic couldn't vanish. As if the floorboards and the ceiling and the walls, the glass windows, every inch of a godforsaken building had sucked up those pungent scents determined to hold on to them for eternity. But more than that it was too small for him to stretch his legs since he was used to pacing around the castle.
Hidden in the shadows of the bylanes, Snape smiled a little remembering just how the medi-witch would tut and pat his back, slipping a couple of his freshly brewed potions into his robe pockets," for those headaches, Severus, I know you would never take them, but I will still prescribe them for my own satisfaction."
"Even after knowing that I will not rely on them and that they will find their way back into your office once again in September the first."
"That has already become a cheerful custom of our own, hasn't it?" never rising to his bait Poppy fluttered her eyelids innocently much to his chagrin. Snape had this stupid urge to poke his tongue at her. If it would have been Lily teasing him like this, he would have done that, poke his tongue out, and mock her with a perfect comeback.
Just three weeks back, Hogwarts had closed for the term break. But instead of the usual boredom, Snape was on his tiptoes. Much to the displeasure of Lord Voldemort, The Minister of magic and several of his trusted aids and aurors had seen him dueling with Dumbledore in Person at the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic.
Hidden in the shadows of the bylanes, Snape smiled a little remembering just how the medi-witch would tut and pat his back, slipping a couple of his freshly brewed potions into his robe pockets," for those headaches, Severus, I know you would never take them, but I will still prescribe them for my own satisfaction."
"Even after knowing that I will not rely on them and that they will find their way back into your office once again in September the first...woman why do you waste your words, your energy, and your time on such trivial things is beyond me." Snape drawled sounding bored and disgusted.
"That has already become a cheerful custom of our own, hasn't it?" never rising to his bait Poppy fluttered her eyelids innocently much to his chagrin. Snape had this stupid urge to poke his tongue at her. If it would have been Lily teasing him like this, he would have done that, poke his tongue out and mock her with a perfect comeback.
Just three weeks back, Hogwarts had closed for the term break. But instead of the usual boredom, Snape was on his tiptoes. Much to the displeasure of Lord Voldemort, The Minister of magic and several of his trusted aides and aurors had seen him dueling with Dumbledore in Person at the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic.
The students had rebelled, a motley group led by ever so zealous Harry Potter had fought with a bunch of Deatheater in the bowels of the building somewhere deep inside the Department of Mysteries. The prophet had lapped on that piece of news and for the last whole week, it has been stretching it unnecessarily.
The tactless reporters had no idea how much their scandalous attempts of overemphasizing the event had angered the Dark Lord. Neither did they investigate much about Hogwarts literally managing to banish Umbridge forever from its grounds. The witch wouldn't even find sympathizers in the Hogsmeade Village, which catered to the immediate needs of the residents of the castle.
Maneuvering his lean body over the barbed fences, Snape dropped inside the park. Right there up a small mound stood the ancient beech tree where he had first met the Evan sisters. Striding up, strengthening his long legs, he inhaled deeply. This small piece of green patch dotted with a set of swings, a jungle gym, and a slip never actually felt like a paradise. Kids point blank refused to play with him. They would jeer at him pointing at his handed-down clothes and worn-out shoes. he sat down in between the wedged roots of the tree and rested his head on its trunk. From his vantage point, he could see the road on the other side of the park which led to the other part of the locality which even now looked better off.
When the streetlight at the furthest end flickered and vanished, the potion master sat up straight. Palming his wand he narrowed his eyes. A tall black figure kept walking down the road and as he crossed each lamppost, the lights simply floated out of their glass enclosures and disappeared into a small object held in his hand.
Nearly five minutes later, Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts ambled his way into the park and sat beside Snape.
Staring up at the night sky the old wizard whispered, "Now, Severus, my boy, you can relax, no one is there in the vicinity. I had sensed that Tom would want to spy on his spymaster. How is Peter?"
The man next to him growled at the mention of the traitorous death eater, "what's my favorite candy?"
The old man sighed and nodded, "Yes, of course. we should be abiding by the Ministry's orders. Black Jacks. Now, you would surely remember the name of my favorite jam?"
Nodding curtly Snape lowered his voice further and answered, " Rasberry Jam."
"Ah, excellent. now that we are done with the pleasantries, I would like to inform you that the Ministry is still trying to track Red Lilac. They believe with the rise of the number of sightings of Inferi, she would definitely come out of her all retirement."
"I see. just like I had anticipated, the Dark Lord has been talking to Draco. The boy told me he was quite interested to learn about Dolores Umbridge."
Twisting his long beard, Dumbledore hummed, "And?"
Snape felt the edges of his ebony wand and confessed, "He is disappointed with me. He believes I am not doing enough to convince you to give me the job of Dark Arts."
Dumbledore tapped his bony shoulders and whispered, "Well, for once, Tom can have his way. Severus, I truly want you to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts from the new session onwards."
Placing a thick of papers on his lap, the old wizard had left after returning the street lights back to their original place, holding his put-outer up above his head. His parting words were still ringing in the young man's ears, "I know you don't have much time to prepare for the classes. I thought I should at least help you out with that. These are my notes. For a brief period of time, I did teach the subject. Good luck Severus. I know it will be difficult for you to attend any of the Order meetings, but be rest assured we aren't going hold any of them until Harry's inheritance is discussed and agreed upon."