Flags fluttered over Hogwarts, the Dark Mark in the rainy sky shone like a new Sickle, the headmaster paraded around in the robes of the darkest gala black, the students and the teachers lost their tongues – a ministerial inspection had descended upon the school...
On the part of the inspectors it was rather dishonourable to arrive at the very beginning of the academic year, when the new headmaster had not yet familiarized himself with all of his duties, half of the staff had changed and still hardly knew the remaining half, and the Head of one of the Houses had disappeared in an unknown direction just the day before. However, no one could stop the triumphant march of First Deputy Minister of Magic Dolores Umbridge to the Great Hall. Perhaps only Voldemort, but he didn't try.
The morning began with fun – with profound speeches from, first, Dolores and then from the accompanying Yaxley and Runcorn, respectively responsible for magical law enforcement and registration of Muggle-borns, to everyone present and, in particular, to the future of the wizarding world. 'The future' answered with applause and respectful silence – the headmaster had cast a 'Silencio' onto the House tables behind the inspectors' backs. In general, the school made a favourable first impression on the inspection. Although First Deputy Umbridge was a little concerned by the absence of Hufflepuffian Stephen O'Leary among the students, about whom the Ministry had a special writ associated with support his parents had given to the Aurors. But having learned that the boy couldn't be taken from school for he was already spending his days at St Mungo's, Umbridge brightened and was consoled. Breakfast was the only part of the morning that the students enjoyed as it was slightly better than usual and, obviously in order not to give the inspectors nausea, looked appetising. Due to the long harangues the meal was delayed, and, so as not to be late for their first lessons, the students had to run into their dormitories at breakneck speed for books, creating a crush in front of the common room doors, and then to rush equally madly to their classes, barging into each other in the corridors. The stairs were having a hard time, mixing up the floors, while poltergeist Peeves malevolently confused the first years with false directions. The worst part was that the inspectors were going to visit some classes today, but no one knew which ones.
"I hope not us," was the first thing Harry said when his mouth had finally thawed from the protracted 'Silencio'.
"If Snape is not cracked, he'll do everything not to let Umbridge go to Harry Potter's class. Especially to Professor McGonagall's lesson," Ron was comforting his friend and combing his hair on the move at the same time – both were going rather amiss.
"Snape is not cracked? I dunno… But if Umbridge is not cracked she'll come to us," Harry answered out of breath.
They had just heroically fought their way through a crowd on the Grand Staircase and were now trying not to be late for Transfiguration. They were still far away from the classroom and, therefore, had to run, or half-run, all the time.
"What's there for her at Professor McGonagall's? She'd be better off visiting Carrow's Dark Arts or, at the very least, Muggle Studies," Hermione, dishevelled more than usual, objected, persistently attempting to straighten the collar of her robes. They had also changed in a hurry, and the girl suspected that she had put hers on back-to-front.
"Or straight to Snape's Potions, so they could bite each other. I bet there is no antidote to either of them," Ron said dreamily. "How was your detention, by the way? Was he really nasty?"
"Yeah, we waited for you till midnight, but you never came. We wanted to meet you in the common room at first, but McGonagall sent everyone to the dormitories. It's hard to argue with her," explained Harry.
"Everything is all right," Hermione reassured her friends, bravely struggling with her robes. "For me, at least… I was just so tired that I could only reach my bed and fall into it."
She really remembered last evening as if through a fog. When she had returned from her detention the common room was quite empty, although lights out hadn't yet been called. And the guys hadn't come to see her. But yesterday her mind had been elsewhere. A miracle she hadn't gone to the Ravenclaw tower instead of Gryffindor's. In the morning it turned out that the whole school was intently discussing last night's battle. All the way to breakfast the boys, vying with each other, had been describing minutely the victory over Slytherin, so Hermione hadn't had a chance to tell them about her detention.
"Pity you weren't there, Hermione!"
"You should have seen what a nasty tumble Malfoy took off his broom! I think Madam Pomfrey used all her Skele-Gro on him. Br-r-r!"
"You were flying along the corridors on brooms?" she asked.
"Not at first, but then the Slytherins brought theirs… Don't worry, I didn't forget that I'm 'Neville', I took off just once."
"Yeah, it was exactly because of Malfoy. We taught him a lesson. He'll remember his 'Imperio' for a long time now!"
"Ron and I jammed him in from both sides. Crabbe tried to put 'Crucio' on Ron – can you imagine? But Ron dodged!"
"There were such goings-on there, Hermione, no words can express them! But we kicked their butts straight away! They were already encircling Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs –"
"These jerks pushed even Hufflepuffs to their limits! There was one feisty Hufflepuffian girl – Eveline, she's really good at 'Stupefy'. Almost like you, Hermione. We need to invite her to the DA, though, she's quite young –"
"And the ceiling on the first floor is, probably, still covered in scorch marks… But that's not us – it was Zabini, who sent 'Incendio' at Terry. But he only singed his broom a little… Slytherins were afraid of absolutely nothing – Carrow arrived almost immediately and behaved like in our Dark Arts lesson. Only that didn't save them!"
"And Carrow wanted to give us all detentions! Except the Slytherins, of course. But McGonagall outstripped him and said that she had already distributed the cleaning of the Owlery until Christmas. And Carrow held his tongue, imagine that! Therefore the DA can hold meetings in the Owlery as well now. Great, right?"
"McGonagall had locked us in the tower at first, can you believe it?! As if we were little children. We wanted to knock the door out with 'Bombarda', but felt sorry for the Fat Lady. And then we realised we could use our brooms to fly out of the windows. Isn't that cool?"
"You disobeyed our Head?"
"Well, she went for Snape at that moment. You should've seen him on a broom! The last time I saw him was when he once judged a Quidditch match. In the second year… no, in the first… Anyway, he yelled at us so furiously that our blood turned to ice… It's a good thing I'm not Potter anymore!"
"You didn't listen to the Headmaster either?"
"Listen to Snape? He was saving his little snakes as usual. He pulled Goyle from his broom by the scruff of his neck and confiscated it. Escorted his precious Malfoy to the Hospital Wing personally…If he had not crawled out of his dungeons, we'd have given it to them for sure. But that will have to do… for the time being."
"So, what about your detention?"
"Well… nothing special," muttered Hermione.
"Nothing special? At Snape's?" Ron couldn't believe it. "He didn't even yell at you or throw you out the door? Good to be an outstanding student, isn't it?.. Maybe then it was for the best that you sat it out there, otherwise you'd've run into a livid Carrow!"
"'Sat it out there'?" Hermione reddened. "You think it's good to sit with Professor Snape for an hour or two?"
"I didn't want to…" Ron uttered, taken aback. "But you said yourself –"
"I meant that I didn't end up in the Hospital Wing and that I finally managed to get some sleep," snapped Hermione. "And as for the rest, Professor Snape remains true to himself. Of course he yelled at me and threw me out the door, Ron, – all neat and proper. And he still hates you, Harry."
"He asked about me?" Harry said, alarmed.
"You bet! He started with it. But I sent him to the Order of the Phoenix."
"And he didn't try to use Veritaserum on you?" Ronald asked with disbelief.
"No, Ron, in case you're interested, only Legilimency and Crucio… a bit."
"WHAT?!" Harry and Ron chorused, stopping abruptly.
"You heard," Hermione snarled, still offended by their condescending attitude towards the diligence she had put into her task. "In my opinion, I did okay with Occlumency. Although the professor said I've had wretched training, and that there's no point meddling with the Dark Lord with such a lack of knowledge."
"He did?" the guys bristled up.
"Yes, he did. Next time he'll probably check how I can resist 'Avada'… Why have we stopped? Transfiguration begins in two minutes!"
They continued to hurry along the corridors.
"You can't go to these detentions anymore," Harry said seriously.
"I'd kill that lousy skunk," added Ron.
"I nearly did yesterday," Hermione admitted quietly. "Therefore the next detention, most likely, won't occur."
The boys stumbled and came to a halt again, staring at her wide-eyed.
"You're not joking, are you?" gasped Harry. "You… almost killed… Snape?"
"Oh, come off it," Ron said with incredulity. "He was up and about at breakfast."
"It happened by accident! I don't even want to talk about it…" Hermione sighed heavily. "I got up to so much mischief yesterday… Probably because of lack of sleep. Let's go! Why have we stopped again?" she urged them on. "On the plus side, I ruined the potion that he was brewing for You-Know-Who, the one that makes thorns grow through skin. Your Cloak really helped me out, Harry. And the other good thing – I found the Pensieve. It sits in Professor Snape's bedroom," she sighed once more. "What do you say now, Ron? Did I have a really nice time?"
Ronald whistled admiringly.
"Holy Trolly! Amazing job, Hermione! No one could have done it – only you!"
"So, what about the Pensieve? Is it difficult to get to?" Harry asked anxiously.
"To be honest, almost impossible," the girl admitted. "I had to knock two doors out with 'Bombarda Maxima'".
The boys' jaws dropped.
"And… Snape didn't notice anything?" Ron mumbled, exchanging glances with a dumbfounded Harry.
"Of course he did – he was in the office!" exclaimed Hermione. "That's why I couldn't approach the Pensieve. Oh, this cannot be explained on the go… To cut a long story short, I ruined the potion and the cauldron burst into flames when Professor Snape got close to it. Whether I made a mistake or he added something else into the cauldron…"
Ronald was delighted:
"Galloping gargoyles! Snape's cauldron exploded! We must remember to tell Neville!"
"Ron, it happens to everyone sooner or later," Harry shrugged. "Considering that Snape brews such potions, I wonder how he is still alive."
"It's not funny, actually!" Hermione interrupted them abruptly. "A bluish-green fire that was difficult to put out with water escaped from that cauldron. I'm still shaking with fear!"
"So what, you dashed to save Snape?" Harry guessed smartly.
"Well… I did. What else could I do?"
Harry looked at his friend sympathetically, as if she were a child who had to have a truism explained.
"Hermione, he'll eat you now."
Hermione shuddered.
"You think he'll figure out what happened with his potion? I did everything very carefully, actually. He won't be able to prove anything –"
"We are talking about Snape, Hermione! He needs no proof!" Harry said sadly. "Although this isn't the first time you set fire to him, he'll soon deduce that it's you. Don't you know Snape? He's incredibly vindictive! I bet he still hasn't forgiven you for the 'Imperio' –"
"As if I were to blame," Hermione's features darkened.
"You were, indirectly. By making a fool of him. And then you smashed his precious dungeons, twice in one day, and in the end you found a way to give him aid. Snape never forgives such things," Harry mused for a couple of seconds, shook his head and gave his verdict: "I wouldn't go to the next detention if I were you. Unless he reminds you about it."
Hermione turned very white.
"And what if he does?" she whispered, finally overcoming her obstinate robes.
"Then… you'll have to go. But with all this ministerial inspection, I doubt he'll remember. Though, if he bears a grudge against you… Maybe you'd better leave Hogwarts after all? Look what's going on here!"
"Don't you start again, okay?" the girl pleaded. "Where can I leave to? Harry, wake up, my parents are Muggles! I had a ton of trouble to make them live in Australia and not remember me. And now you are suggesting I turn everything back? I'll only make it worse for them! To be on the run from You-Know-Who, to be on the run from Snape…How will I explain that because I didn't please a couple of dark wizards our family needs to secrete itself now? Besides, where can we hide if You-Know-Who starts a war and the Death Eaters are going to be everywhere?"
Harry kept a gloomy silence; Ron looked at the girl with horror.
"You say very terrible things, Hermione," he admitted. "Well, don't go home, just hide somewhere. In the Order of the Phoenix, for example! All you need is to stay away from our headmaster… Okay, sorry, I'm shutting up. We won't talk about it again, we promise you!"
"Everybody needs to stay away from our headmaster," Hermione had already pulled herself together. "Though, he didn't kill me yesterday, so let's hope he won't do it today either. I'm not going to be afraid of him! And we're desperate for the Pensieve, remember? I've found it, now all we have to do is to come up with an idea of how to steal it."
"Maybe we can do it without the Pensieve," Harry said unconvincingly. "Let's just work at it from other angles. We do know what one of the Horcruxes looks like –"
Hermione, however, didn't share his optimism:
"Harry, you've been talking about that locket for a few months now, and everything has been in vain."
"Yes, but –"
"Stop!" Ronald, who ran half a step ahead and had already turned the last corner, pulled back abruptly, almost crashing into his friends.
"Who's there? Vold–" Harry tried to joke.
"Don't say..!"
"Worse – the inspectors," whispered Ron. "That's right, they came to McGonagall."
"And we are late, as if in spite!" Hermione got upset. "I told you to hurry up, but you were stopping every two steps."
"Well, maybe it's good that we're late," Ron tried to talk his way out. "Maybe we'd better skip this class?"
"And leave McGonagall at the mercy of that pack of hyenas?" Harry hesitated.
"Carrow's among them. He'll give us detentions," Hermione shuddered.
"And for being late he won't?"
"For being late less harsh ones…"
"Okay, let's go…"
Still questioning themselves whether they should escape or not, the trio carefully turned the corner, nervously adjusting their robes. The robes kept puffing out a little – the stocks of Polyjuice Potion, the Boy-Who-Lived's wand with a phoenix feather, the fake Slytherin locket, the phial with Dumbledore's memories, the Marauder's Map and the Invisibility Cloak had been divided between the three of them and hidden under their school uniforms since the arrival of the inspection, most likely, meant the dormitories being searched. The inspectors would have gone mental had they decided to search each of the students personally. Fortunately, things weren't that bad yet. For now the latecomers got off with just McGonagall's pained look and the headmaster's icy 'Thirty points from Gryffindor'.
"Bite me," Harry grunted as they, reddened and disgraced, squeezed past the inspectors to the back row, hiding from their sight.
Ronald, also in a whisper, called First Deputy Umbridge a foul toad – she had made a remark about discipline.
Basically, the trio had no liking for either the First Deputy or the headmaster, and it immediately became clear that attending the class wasn't worthwhile. However, it was too late to retreat. The door had already been closed, and the inspectors were seated in magically created chairs. Umbridge, Yaxley, Runcorn from the Ministry side, Snape and Amycus Carrow from the school's. Professor McGonagall nervously straightened the square spectacles on her nose and began the lesson.
'The transformation of metal into warm-blooded…' Hermione wrote down the topic and glanced askew at the boys sitting on either side of her. Ronald was fidgeting with his quill while Harry was drumming his fingers on the desktop. In fact the entire final year was agitated. Because of the inspection and because of yesterday's fight. Yet they were showing it in different ways – the class was clearly divided into two by an invisible line. Everyone was angry with Slytherin, and Slytherin was angry with everyone. Good thing Draco Malfoy was absent today – he wasn't feeling well. The atmosphere in the room was so electric that even the wands were on the verge of producing sparks. The inspection was too much and threw both flanks off balance, making young wizards glare at one another silently. The Slytherins – with expressions of gloomy anticipation, the non-Slytherins – with grim melancholy. The line between the Houses was indicated more distinctly than ever. And September had only just begun!
Hermione thought that Professor McGonagall's nervousness was increasing precisely because of this hostile aura in the classroom, although she tried not to show her anxiety. Only Umbridge and her silent companions appeared to be comfortable. The First Deputy smiled with the most sugary of smiles, adjusting the layered lace of her lilac dress robes and clearly enjoying the reigning atmosphere. From time to time she interrupted McGonagall with an unnecessary question or a stupid comment, scribbled lines in her notebook, and asked the headmaster or the new Head of Slytherin about one thing or another. It was very hard to sit still, catching her heavy, expressionless look every now and again. When would this lesson be over, finally? But it seemed to be endless.
Hermione soon stopped writing and just listened. Not out of laziness, but because she knew the topic well and had too much to think about while her mind was fresh after managing to get some sleep…
"Look, Snape is darker than usual today. He's even wearing black gloves. It must be his dress uniform," the bored Harry whispered to her. "Hey, is it me or did he cut his hair a little and deign to wash it? I think he did! Merlin's beard! Is it because of Umbridge?"
"No, it's because of me," Hermione avoided looking at the headmaster, but now she had to do so. "I sloshed him with 'Aguamenti'… three times…"
Harry laid his head on the desk and sunk his teeth into his fist, trying his best not to laugh.
"Tell Ron –"
"I don't see anything funny about it," yesterday's euphoria had left Hermione a long time ago. "You told me yourself the Headmaster will hate me for that!"
"He already hates everybody."
"What's up?" Ronald glanced at them.
"Nothing," the girl took her quill once again – the First Deputy had aimed her eyes at the trio with the accuracy of a sniper shot.
The headmaster, incidentally, looked even worse than yesterday. Sallow skin, dark shadows beneath his eyes – one had seen healthier looking corpses. The burns, however, were practically invisible, at least on his face. Without peering closely one would never guess they were there. He'd had to cut his hair a bit since it had been scorched, but still from the sides, where the enchanted fire should have left scars, nothing could be seen beyond his usual black dishevelled locks. His hands, on the contrary, obviously still hurt… Yet, what had he been trying to do to his potion? Had he added the eyes of ghouls by mistake or had something else happened to the cauldron, and the eyes had been needed to work on the antidote? It was hard to believe that Snape could make such a dangerous mistake, but the fact that he wanted to ruin the whole potion, which had been brewed long and laboriously, Hermione couldn't understand either. If he had done it in small amounts, she'd have interpreted it as an experiment, but like that… It didn't make any sense. Another interesting question – how had he managed to exonerate himself in the eyes of the Dark Lord after that misfortune? Had he really wormed his way out, as Ron would say, that easily? How could this man manage to get off the hook all the time? Professor Snape glanced at Hermione briefly, and she quickly averted her eyes.
"What are you thinking about?" Ron nudged her from the left.
Hermione looked at the double runic 'S', which she had doodled absent-mindedly on the corner of her parchment.
"About Salazar Slytherin – what to do with the locket," she whispered.
"Any new thoughts?"
"Not at the moment…"
Harry nudged her from the right:
"Hermione, can you see anything on my face?"
"No, why?" the girl frowned, immediately realising what he was talking about.
"It hurts again…"
"How bad is it?"
"Not very much. Tolerable."
"Can it be because of the inspection? Yaxley and Runcorn are definitely connected to You-Know-Who."
"Yeah, maybe…"
Umbridge stared once again in their direction, and this time her eyes lingered a little before moving on.
Hermione buried herself in her notes. After a bit of musing she pulled out a clean sheet of parchment from beneath the top one and put it between Harry and herself.
'He wants me to study Fiendfyre.'
Harry looked at her uncomprehendingly. Hermione pointed to Snape with her quill.
'Dark magic?!' the boy wrote back.
'He says it's not.'
Harry sniffed sceptically – to believe Snape?!
'This surprised me the most. I don't understand why,' Hermione added quickly.
'Wants to use you for his own purposes?'
'Such as?'
'Dunno.'
'Refuse? If he remembers…'
'Dunno… We have to decide about the Pensieve first. If we need it, you can't be kicked out. Play for time?'
Hermione nodded dubiously and handed the sheet to Ron.
'What is Ff?' he wrote.
"I'll explain later," the girl whispered, hiding the paper under the desk and quickly incinerating it with her wand.
McGonagall had just completed the introductory part of the lesson, reduced to a minimum for the occasion of the inspectors' arrival, and announced that it was time to switch to practical exercises. Everyone begun to rustle, pulling out their wands, not forgetting to look askew at each other and at the inspection members. Umbridge, taking advantage of the short break, asked McGonagall something. The Head of Gryffindor went purple, and Snape villainously livened up. Apparently he could catch any spoken word at any distance, because he immediately dashed to the First Deputy with his renowned lightning and stealthy lunge which had ruined hundreds of cheat sheets. Professor Snape also spoke in a whisper, but his whisper had the ability to reach and paralyze the students on the farthest desks. Ronald nudged Hermione, who was already getting herself ready to transfigure a buckle into a mouse.
"In fact, Madam Umbridge, we're using all the means possible to isolate the Muggle-born students from the pure-blood wizards," the headmaster explained kindly. "Muggle-borns sleep in separate dormitories, are not permitted to speak to others without acute need, and must occupy the desks at the rear of the classrooms. There are not many non-pureblood wizards at Hogwarts at the moment; therefore, it's not necessary to make a separate schedule for them… Today's situation," he cast a withering glance at Minerva McGonagall, "is not typical and is connected with the confusion caused by your arrival."
"And yet this system is not very convenient, Headmaster," Dolores smiled. "In reality it turns out that everyone sits in a jumble. Pure-blood wizards not only aren't accorded any privileges, but also they cannot even be distinguished from the Mudbloods," she chided gently.
The flank of Slytherin buzzed with approval. Umbridge smiled again.
"Our inspection, Headmaster, has the impression that such a state of affairs leads to unhealthy tension in a group. Especially since, as I remember, there have been far too many enrolments in Hogwarts in the last few years," she uttered, calmly looking around the half-empty class. "I think it would be advisable for the Ministry of Magic to consider the possible expulsion of Mudbloods from the education system. Of course, this will concern not only the students, but also the staff. You'd agree it's unacceptable for a non-pureblood to teach a pure-blood. This degrades the dignity of the true wizard."
Hermione dropped her wand. The rest of her classmates froze with their wands half raised. A fundamental policy was being created right in front of their eyes.
Professor Snape nodded, agreeing with the First Deputy's point of view.
"We have no Muggle-born teachers at this moment," he clarified with restraint. "There are, however, a few non-pureblood wizards, but this is due to temporary difficulties with the number of applicants for employment."
You are a half-blood yourself, you fricking bastard!
Harry and Ron exchanged angry glances over Hermione's drooped head. The girl stared at the desk, struggling against the upcoming tears. Her trembling fingers, smeared with ink, were tearing off small scraps from her notes.
"The changes affecting the wizarding world are not yet understood by everyone. Nevertheless, I believe that when Hogwarts is freed from the Muggle-borns, the pure-bloods will come here more willingly to teach and to study," the headmaster calmly concluded his thought. "As for the students born of Muggles –"
Not lifting her head, Hermione felt, with her skin, his familiar, unfriendly-indifferent glance sliding over her.
"It's because of me!" she muttered, blankly looking at her unfinished notes. "Vengeful spawn of a gargoyle!"
He'd understood it, he certainly had! The game was over, kids! For Hermione, who had rarely missed the prefix 'professor' when talking about the Curse from the Dungeons, the last remark was unspeakably extraordinary. The girl was being hushed from both sides.
"Don't spout bosh," Ron whispered, grasping her left arm under the desk.
"And sit quietly," Harry joined in, squeezing her right wrist. "It's not the end of the world to be thrown out of school!"
The guys were really frightened that for Hermione Granger not to graduate Hogwarts was the equivalent of death. And that, after creating a scandal in front of the inspectors, she'd either go to St Mungo's, following the path of Stephen O'Leary, or – a much worse scenario – be taken by the inspectors to the ministerial trials, from which Stephen had been released only due to his fortunate and timely mental breakdown. Hermione was currently mentally fit, but she looked like she was rapidly approaching the edge.
"– as for the students born of Muggles, the school will soon be able to easily remove them," the headmaster continued. "Regrettably, at this moment they have some useful functions. I am talking not only about the domestic household needs, although with regard to the mass escape of the house-elves to freedom, such a huge castle as Hogwarts requires an additional labour force. I have already mentioned this problem in my report to the Ministry," a small nod towards Umbridge. "However, this is a temporary passing phenomenon – no one doubts that the problem with the escapee elves is going to be solved in the very near future. Nonetheless…" now the headmaster addressed the class, in fact looking only towards the Slytherins, "…other needs, known to us all, require a true wizard to develop such skills as the evaluation of the capacity of another wizard, the submission of the will of the other wizard, the suppression of the magical defence capability of this other wizard," the professor deliberately emphasized the word 'other', slowly moving his hypnotic gaze along the students' faces. "Therefore it makes sense to keep the composition of the classes mixed. Perhaps the Muggle-born students, with due regard to discipline and school regulations, will be given the possibility to accommodate themselves in the wizarding world. At any rate, this is a good opportunity for all, although we do not welcome their studying at Hogwarts."
The Slytherins hummed with joy.
"I beg your pardon, Headmaster," the Head of Gryffindor began suddenly, loud and clear, "but while we are all here, I would like to clarify, in order to avoid misunderstandings: what are these additional goals that Hogwarts sets for itself? I personally don't know anything about them."
"You personally, Professor McGonagall, have no say in the matter," Snape snapped.
McGonagall shuddered as though slapped on the cheek. Her right hand twitched as if she was going to draw her wand out – Runcorn and Yaxley, who were clearly bored before, rose from their seats synchronously. But the Head of proud Gryffindor simply pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket to wipe her spectacles.
"I think that as one of the four Heads, I am obliged to express my opinion about the tasks that our school sets for itself," she said calmly, her jade-green eyes moving from Umbridge to Professor Snape. "After all, the solving of these tasks may be beyond some people's strength and heart. The views on the teaching system can be very different, and Hogwarts is a school with long traditions."
Dolores blinked excitedly and opened her mouth, but the headmaster, seething with anger, attacked Minerva first.
"Gryffindor," he hissed with a distorted face, "will acquire a new Head as fast as did Slytherin, if you, Professor McGonagall, for some reason are not satisfied with the teaching system at Hogwarts. If your objections are less crucial, you can inform me about them in due course after you have crossed the threshold of MY OFFICE."
The Gryffindors exploded, jumping to their feet, but immediately pulled back, obeying the gesture from their Head. The words 'Greasy-haired son of a…' and 'Dumbledore would never…' hung in the air. With one single look Snape nailed the bristling Slytherins to their seats. Being in the minority, those from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw edged closer to each other, as though they were preparing for spells to fly above their heads.
"There, there," Umbridge readily took a step to the final years, spreading her arms and making it clear that the merit of restoring peace and understanding belonged exclusively to her. "Now I see, children, that your Headmaster is absolutely right. Abrupt changes would be an unbearable blow to your subtle and delicate souls…"
Carrow gave a frustrated grunt; Crabbe and Goyles' delicate souls reflected on their faces with a vague anticipation of grievous disappointment.
"The Ministry of Magic deems that, in the interests of maintaining peace and quiet, it will be acceptable to keep the current composition of the classes for the time being. Of course, under the personal responsibility of your esteemed Headmaster, who is certainly aware of the situation at the school better than anyone else." Snape gave a short nod, thanking her for the trust. "Nevertheless," Umbridge's wide, slack mouth stretched into an even more radiant smile, baring her small, pointed teeth, "the Ministry sees a need to develop more precise measures that determine the Mudbloods' way of life," she turned to Snape again, as if searching for inspiration. "Prohibition on movement outside the school… Some sort of distinctive signs that will allow controlling them better… We could enforce a separate colour for their robes," she continued enthusiastically, straightening the folds of her baggy attire with sizable pleasure. "Why, in fact, are they no different from the other students' robes? Black would be ideal –"
Both flanks gagged with resentment. Minerva McGonagall nearly dropped her spectacles, which she was about to return to her nose.
The headmaster cracked his knuckles and winced, as though he'd received a sharp pain.
"Black is very practical indeed," the temperature of his voice fell to absolute zero, "but the main colour of the school robes is already this."
"Is it?" Umbridge didn't get upset. "I haven't thought about that… Maybe grey then?"
"As the Ministry sees fit," Snape said without changing his tone. "I'm prepared to dress them in shrouds, if necessary. But such small details can, as I understand, be discussed later?"
"You are right, of course," Umbridge raised a sigh, tired of the long speech. "So, where were we? Ah, yes. Well, let us see how one of the students handles the practice task and then we can go to a quieter place and share our impressions," she grinned towards the meaningfully-silent Yaxley and Runcorn. "But first you should all be sat properly," Dolores turned to the class and clapped her hands a couple of times.
Gryffindors exchanged glances with Slytherins. Some of them sat upright, others raised their wands into the initial position. The headmaster rolled his eyes to the Dark Mark in the sky.
"Muggle-borns, move to the back row. The rest release the space for them," he barked, translating the wish of the First Deputy to the students.
The Muggle-borns required very little space, but Harry, Ron and a couple of people hurriedly crawled closer to the inspectors and, putting some chairs in the aisle, settled themselves there.
"Thank you, Headmaster," Dolores said with satisfaction, flirtatiously adjusting the lace of her robes.
The vast majority present practically retched. Coquetry oozing from Umbridge was extra disgusting as it was aimed at Snape. The professor gave her a sour smile – 'any time'. Hermione, left alone at the rear of the classroom, opened her eyes wide and half-rose from her seat. She didn't even react to the languid greeting from the depressed Dean Thomas joining her behind the desk.
"Good thing they didn't kick us out, right?"
"Huh…"
"And grey is better than black, don't you think?"
"Uh-huh…"
She tried to catch Ronald's or Harry's eye: unable to leave her place in exile or to shout, she couldn't see any other way to contact her friends. If only that dunce Harry had learned Legilimency! Having thought that, the girl glanced in alarm at the only Legilimens in the class. However, Professor Snape had no intention of probing her head, and it seemed like he didn't care at all if Miss Granger rose, lay or died. In fact, the latter would even be preferable. Harry and Ron were seriously busy with the difficult reshuffle of the front rows. Umbridge had just advised them to occupy vacant seats on the flank of Slytherin, and Potter-Longbottom, not wanting to sit at Malfoy's place, was acting capriciously. Idiots! Didn't they have anything better to think about?! At last McGonagall, Snape, and even Carrow with their combined efforts had managed to convince Umbridge, who was concerned about the correctness of the pure-bloods' posture, that it was not necessary to mix the Gryffindors with the Slytherins to such an extent, and the silence that had been absent for quite some time finally reigned. Hermione nearly went insane, wondering if the boys had seen what she had, or, as always, they had missed the most important thing. Be that as it may, neither of them turned to her.
Professor McGonagall, who was, at last, officially allowed to speak, adjusted her spectacles with a customary gesture, returned the large, chequered handkerchief to the wide pocket of her robes, and flicked her wand, summoning a little table with a training inventory closer to her. A gold spoon, a silver ring, and a copper candleholder – the task was pretty obvious.
"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, who would like –" she began in her teaching voice.
"Me! Me! Me!" the nerd Granger raised her hand so sharply that it almost flew out of its joint. Straight after that Hermione sprang to her feet, not allowing anyone, especially Professor Snape – a great master of the case, – to ignore her initiative. One demonstration of skills, Umbridge had said. Only one! Then the inspectors would go to confer somewhere else, most likely to the headmaster's office, and, once there, it was as good as lost! Everyone had shuddered from her yell; Dean, sitting next to her, almost fell from his chair; Harry and Ron stared at her in horror, and half the Slytherins twirled their wands at their temples, but none of that mattered to Hermione. Her whole body trembled. Never before in her life had she had such a strong desire to answer. Carrow and Snape snarled angrily and exchanged whispers, piercing the girl with their furious gazes.
"Please…"
"Is there something you wanted to say, Miss… Hermione?" McGonagall uttered carefully.
"Please, Professor, allow me to demonstrate my skills!" Hermione begged, switching the same pleading look to the First Deputy. "I really want to show the inspectors that non-purebloods can benefit the wizarding world as well!"
A wave of mockery swept through the class.
"Granger's gone nuts…"
"In my opinion, she's overacting..."
And Snape – Slytherin viper – said to Umbridge, who was looking at him enquiringly:
"I would advise against."
"Why is that?" Dolores lightened up. "It's all right if the girl fails. Everyone understands that impure blood makes it difficult to manage magic."
Can you, at least, transfigure a fork into a spoon, you rotten toad?!
"That's not what I mean," Snape winced. "Though, do as you please…"
Hermione was already running towards the blackboard. A wild thatch of curly hair, wand at the ready.
"Why?" Harry tugged her robes, as she passed him.
"Her neck…"
"When you are ready, Hermione," McGonagall met her best student with a mixed expression in her eyes. On the one hand, she had no doubt of Hermione's ability to give an outstanding result; on the other, she was concerned how much the extra attention would hurt the bright, full of initiative, Muggle-born. The best in her year. A close friend of the Chosen Boy.
Hermione approached the tray with the metal objects. Everyone, of course, stared at her. McGonagall smiled at her encouragingly and raised her wand for a little insurance, merely as a matter of routine rather than a real precaution. Professor Snape silently backed off half a step and placed his hands, still holding his wand tightly, behind his back.
"I would like," Hermione's eyes, sunken from the lack of sleep, flashed gleefully, "to dedicate this transformation to the significant arrival of the ministerial inspection to our marvellous Hogwarts in general and, personally, to the most respected First Deputy Umbridge. The hardest part of Transfiguration is the accuracy of separating an object from its environment, especially if its structure is heterogeneous. I therefore hope that my skills will be appreciated by our highly esteemed guests."
And before anyone could start wondering what complication she had found in the separation of the spoon from the tray and what components she wanted to divide the gold into, Hermione flicked her wand towards the First Deputy and immediately cast an invisible shield upon herself as a precaution. It didn't matter who'd decide to neutralize her – the Shield Charm was meant to be a protection from anyone's conjurations, as the headmaster had said.
Indeed, a couple of spells – Carrow's signature 'Incarcerous' and Runcorn's 'Stupefy' – instantly rebounded off her shield. Snape also raised his wand but didn't perform any magic. What's the point? Now was definitely not the time for a demonstrative sparring session. Especially since First Deputy Umbridge, with an ultrasound squeal, began to spin on the spot as though she had a Dark Mark burning. However, instead of disapparating to Voldemort, she continued wailing, shaking something out of her dense lace from beneath the folds of her triple chin. A very small creature, clinging to the waves of her lilac robes with its tiny paws, fell out and, striking the floor, rushed under the nearest desk.
Now all the wizards who had taken their wands out sent 'Stupefy' in one direction, but the little animal miraculously dodged them all, suggesting a way more powerful Shield Charm than Hermione had. Some of the girls immediately stood on their chairs due to the fact that the animal species still remained unclear. Others rushed to the hunt with the boys. Hermione also wanted to help, but McGonagall pushed her behind her back, immobilizing her with 'Petrificus Totalus'. Miss Granger could only blink in hope that Ron or Harry would decipher her winking. The boys, however, were too busy to pay her any attention: the Seeker awakened within Harry and the Chaser within Ron, but the creature was more elusive than a Golden Snitch.
'I should have transfigured it into a turtle rather than a hamster,' Hermione thought irritably.
On the other hand, fun had finally come to the extremely dull class. Seventeen-year-old wizards joyfully scampered between the desks, demonstrating all the known skills of combat magic. Slytherins teamed up with Gryffindors – what a sight! Carrow and McGonagall cried encouragements and tips to their respective students. Even Yaxley and Runcorn loosened up and began betting which House would win. That's how much everyone had experienced the lack of entertainment these days. Of all those present only the paralysed Hermione and the headmaster didn't join the spree. Perhaps Snape could sweep along the aisle in his fluttering robes and catch the hamster, but preferred to carefully conceal it. Looking back at the miserable Umbridge, he only shrugged – 'I did warn you'. Obviously he had made a mental note of her words about black robes. He gazed at everything with a detached expression, as though he was recovering his breath. At last Umbridge regained her senses, stopped squealing and spoke articulately.
"No! Don't use 'Incendio'! You may damage it! Careful, children! That is a very valuable item!" she made a hesitant movement towards the desks, between which the hamster was manoeuvring, but immediately stepped back – Parvati's 'Tarantallegra' had swept right in front of her nose.
"Do something," the First Deputy snapped at the wizards surrounding her. Her own spells, as one might have expected, hit only the students. "That piece of jewellery is extremely precious! That locket belonged to Slytherin himself," she whispered to Snape, wringing her hands in despair.
Snape raised an eyebrow – no doubt he was figuring out whether she had suffered enough.
"Minerva, would you mind?" he said tiredly after a pause.
The Head of Gryffindor pierced the headmaster with an outraged look – she had definitely hoped he would not dare ask her. Hermione couldn't help but admire the simplicity of the solution, even though the annoyance burned her like an 'Incendio'. Drat it! How could she forget about that? The tears of frustration run down her face, tickling her nose and cheeks. Still immobilized, she couldn't wipe them away.
With a graceful movement Minerva McGonagall leapt into the middle of the classroom. In the persona of a cat, she acted no less professionally than in the persona of a witch. The students hastily retreated to the walls and lowered their wands, fearing to step on the professor or hit her with a spell dedicated for the hamster – Minerva was immediately on the little animal's heels. Only Neville Longbottom, excited by the thrill of the chase, paid no attention to anyone except the prey and fearlessly competed with McGonagall, knocking over the desks with his awkward figure.
Carrow explained to Umbridge:
"He is the local idiot, but has the purest blood…"
Everyone including the headmaster watched with great interest the exciting show, which, however, started to drag on. Having reached his own limit of expectancy, Professor Snape raised his wand, aiming at the hamster. How typical – Slytherin taking away another's victory at the very last moment. McGonagall and Longbottom had just driven the little rodent into the farthest corner under an empty desk that had flown there during the chase. It was a matter of seconds. The Head of Gryffindor was already stretching her sharp claws to the disgustingly-squealing antique locket when Neville, showing unexpected agility, dived under the desk like a fish, shoving the ready-to-leap cat with one hand and with the other reaching for the hamster.
The audience gasped. McGonagall flew several feet away and, hitting the wall, transformed back into a human. Everyone rushed towards her. Only Neville had other things on his mind – one precise movement of a born Seeker separated him from victory. Suddenly his gaze met the huge, moist eyes of the lost Trevor. The hamster or the toad? The toad or the hamster? Neville grabbed the hamster. The fight with the squirming, biting creature was short, but quite extreme. The toad kept sitting right there, accusatorially staring into his face, but the boy could not seize it as he was busy smothering Slytherin's locket with both hands. A bluish glow of the transfiguration flared from under the desk, and with a little delay Neville, dusty and scratched by the relic and his own Head, joined the gathering.
To a round of applause the pale, frightened boy returned the locket to the First Deputy, who, however, didn't look happy. After carefully examining her treasure, she quickly put it back around her neck. The headmaster's reaction to Longbottom's feat was also rather ambiguous. He didn't join in the applause and just stood there like a lonely commander, polishing his wand, from which he hadn't released a single spell during the entire action, with his black gloves. He spoke only because he had to say something in front of the inspectors.
"Bravo, Mr Longbottom," he uttered through gritted teeth, "you overshadowed Potter's dexterity. In fact, yours was rather superfluous."
Neville's eyes widened. A compliment from Snape?!
"Ten points to Gryffindor for agility," the headmaster said kindly, "and minus fifty for injuring the Head of your House."
Neville started to cry. He just couldn't help it. He stood in front of the formidable professor, feeling the large tears rolling out of his eyes. Snape seemed to be touched.
"Excuse me, Mr Longbottom, I forgot that you, after all, are not Potter, and, unlike him, you don't have nerves of steel. Wash the Astronomy Tower at your leisure. Manual labour will indoctrinate you with fortitude. Or, at the very least, the stairs will be a bit cleaner."
Neville nodded. Snape's subconscious must have felt his enemy in disguise. Otherwise, why had he set Longbottom's detention in that tower again?
Shaken, Minerva had already risen to her feet, supported on either side by students. Umbridge indignantly adjusted her frills and had no desire to stay in the classroom a minute longer, although only a person with a very vivid imagination would dare call this a classroom now. Nevertheless the First Deputy didn't hesitate to unleash the dogs onto the cause of her suffering – Hermione. Somewhere in the middle of her ardent speech, the compassionate wizards removed the Body Freezing Spell from the girl, and she, at least, began to apologize torpidly. She had no doubt that now she was going to not only be expelled, but also locked in Azkaban for good. Carrow, however, didn't want to waste the experimental material.
"Madam Umbridge, we have special detentions for such cases," he reassured the Head of the inspection. "Azkaban is half-destroyed anyway. Hermione, tonight at eight –"
Professor McGonagall jumped up from her chair, pressing to her temple a handkerchief carefully moistened by the students.
"I beg your pardon, Professor Carrow, but why would you give a detention to a student who was delinquent in MY lesson? I can manage myself. Hermione, tonight at eight –"
"Because," Carrow said suavely, "I've been assigned inspector for Muggle-born affairs by the Ministry's decree. Therefore, from today I am the only one who decides such matters."
Minerva lost her power of speech. Hermione swayed and looked desperately at her friends, surrounded by numbed Gryffindorians. Their faces were contorted with disbelief, but what could be done? Harry and Ron exchanged glances, nodded to each other and began slowly dragging their wands from their pockets. Hermione shook her bushy-haired head in terror – no, don't do it!
"But it's only from today, I believe?" the headmaster asked Carrow irritably; the traces of an excruciating internal struggle along with the desire to get rid of everyone present as quickly as possible could be seen on his face. "Miss Granger so excelled at my lesson yesterday that she had already earned an open-ended detention for herself. By her irresponsible actions she created a threat to Professor McGonagall's life. It would appear the Gryffindorians have taken a dislike to their Head for some reason; however, that's their business. So, as Granger is potentially dangerous, I'll keep an eye on her personally," he said and then he barked to Hermione: "I will expect you tonight. At eight."
The girl leaned against the wall with a doomed expression. Even Umbridge was comforted by her reaction.
"Very good," she cooed, not taking her eyes off the girl, and smiled, which made even the Dark Mark's grin look kinder. "I hope, Headmaster, you will find proper use for this Mudblood, and we will never hear from her again. Anything bad."
"Don't worry, Madam Umbridge, I'll take her under. My. Personal. Responsibility," saying these words, Snape pierced Hermione with such a contemptuous, full-of-pure-rabies glare that the girl understood – right now he was absolutely furious, and before they had only seen the half of it. Suddenly she felt like getting back to Carrow, but it was too late.
"Granger – one, two, three – and sold," hissed one of Slytherins.
The First Deputy briskly adjusted her lace.
"All right, isn't it time for us to conduct the initial assessment?" she said. "In essence, except in certain individual cases involving unclean blood…" another attempt to strangle Hermione with a glance was interrupted by a deafening clap. Searching for its source, everyone began looking around, and suddenly flashes of red and gold danced in the classroom which, due to the gloomy rain, had been submerged in twilight. A huge lancet window, replacing the back wall, flared from the fiery, Gryffindor-coloured letters that were inscribed by someone's hand right in the cloudy sky.
"Slytherins… and… other… freaks… yesterday's… fight… was… just… the beginning… You… can… tell… that… to… your… fathers… to… their… master… and… his… ministerial… lickspittles… We… will… continue… to… win…"
The words appeared one by one, mirroring on the faces of the wizards watching these creative fireworks. Ron surreptitiously pulled Hermione to the middle of the group of Gryffindors; Harry, still very pale, took her by the arm tightly.
"Wowza! I bet that's the sixth years…" Ron whispered to his friends, admiring the inscription. It certainly made a deep impression – everyone froze and read.
Sneaking a peek at Umbridge, Harry realised that, as he expected, the message had clearly affected her – the sweetest of smiles had already ripened on the First Deputy's lips.
Sneaking a peek at the headmaster, Harry realised why Severus Snape was considered the Right Hand of the Dark Lord. The pale face of the professor, lit up by the fiery flashes dancing on it, looked inhumanly fierce.
The three Death Eaters stepped closer to the headmaster; Yaxley quietly expressed some seemingly mutual thought. Snape nodded, continuing reading and boiling with rage. Slytherins, both guilty and neutral, huddled together near the headmaster and their Head, as a matter of precaution. McGonagall, surrounded by Gryffindors, hugged Hermione, and all of them watched in silence as the last letters melted into the rain one after another.
Then the paralysing spell subsided and everyone came to their senses, but only Umbridge spoke.
"That's how the most serious problem emerges from individual cases, my friends," she sighed with a sad smile. "Who do you believe is responsible for this, Headmaster?"
"Gryffindor," Snape spat the word with the same contempt with which he had recently directed it against McGonagall.
Was the name of the House now deemed to be an expletive?
First Deputy Umbridge shook her head ruefully.
"Such a clear demonstration of disrespect to the Ministry of Magic should be severely punished. Don't you think so, Headmaster?"
Snape vindictively narrowed his eyes at the rain beyond the window.
"Indubitably."
"Apparently, the Ministry will have to take this under its own special control. It's unlikely that the school is capable of suppressing a riot on its own. This is a riot, isn't it?"
Slytherins and the Death Eaters actively supported this sound thought. First Deputy Umbridge adjusted the locket on her chest with her plump hands.
"In the near future we will develop clear directives and send them to Hogwarts," she promised feelingly. "Don't worry about it, Headmaster; you will only have to ensure that they are strictly implemented."
"I will," Snape retorted through clenched teeth. "And I will coordinate them with… highest authority. And now I suggest the inspectors come to my office for a detailed discussion of… directives."
The students quickly parted, opening a path for the inspectors and the teachers accompanying them, – the Slytherins in one direction, the non-Slytherins in the other. Leaving the room, Umbridge waved good-bye; her retinue followed her, discussing something with Carrow. The headmaster, sweeping the stone floor with the hem of his black robes, eagerly tailed the procession. The inspectors were just out of sight, and Snape had already reached his hand out to hold the door and exit when the second clap came. Everyone flinched and automatically turned to the window.
"We… notify… the greasy-haired… bastard… Snape… that… he… won't… live… to… see… our… victory…"
Several voices screamed at once:
"Duck!"
The professor turned around with Death Eater agility, his hand, covered with a black glove, made a lightning lunge with his magic wand. The spell – devil knows which one – swept over the students' heads and, with a ring, smashed the glass – not into splinters, but into the smallest dust. In a couple of seconds the spell reached the fire letters, turning them into sparkling pollen, which formed a vortex and was drawn into the Dark Mark. Those who first lifted their heads could see the tail of the black robes slipping away in the doorway. The icy rain bewitched by Voldemort spattered in through the empty window frame. A couple of girls sobbed hysterically. Professor McGonagall lowered the wand clenched in her trembling hand, removing the protective charms that she had hastily covered the students with, and, pale as a sheet, sat back in her chair.
"Merlin's pants… what kind of crap was that?" Ron muttered, getting to his feet. "'Sectumsempra Maxima'? Our good old school genius just shoots outright… Neville? Don't scare me like this, mate. Did he get you?"
"Who?" Harry raised his wan face, still sitting on the floor. Ronald was taken aback.
"Snape… he just fired at us all with something unforgivable. Or rather unimaginable…"
"Sorry, I didn't see…"
Ronald wanted to express his surprise once again, but his words were drowned out by the rumpus coming from all sides.
"So, this is just the beginning? Well, it will be the end of you!"
"That's all because of you, freaks. Get lost to your slimehole."
"Want to see my father? Easy! I'll call him!"
"Yeah, call him. We'll beat the hell out of both of you!"
"How? You're pussies!"
"Shut it, slither creeps!"
"Let's get out of here," Ron whispered to his friend wisely. "Or you might not make it to the fight with You-Know-Who. Besides, we still have lots of stuff to find."
Harry nodded and stood up, holding his abdomen.
"What's the matter? Stomachache?"
"I'll… tell… you… later. Quickly… let's go…" Harry's misted eyes searched for Hermione, but she was far away, by the armchair in which an exhausted Minerva sat.
The students, forming two lines, drew out their wands and aimed them at each other. A new Gryffindor versus Slytherin conflict was brewing.
"I think, I will need to speak to the Headmaster after all," Professor McGonagall said without raising her voice.
Everyone paused and turned to her.
"Despite having an acute shortage of teachers at this moment, we're going to have to divide you into two groups. It's next to impossible to teach in such an atmosphere… Now collect your belongings and go. You have five minutes to your next lesson, and I need to clean this classroom and to lock it up."
The Gryffindors and the Slytherins exchanged glances and slowly lowered their wands; however, an intense mutual aversion could still been seen in their eyes.
"Don't divide us, Professor McGonagall," Dean Thomas said after a while. "We'll watch them."
"It's us who will be watching you!" Zabini hissed. Fortunately, the Slytherin Head Boy wasn't present at the discussion of this issue.
"Until the next breach of discipline," McGonagall snapped, rising from her chair. "Special thanks to all of you for understanding this difficult situation that the school and its teaching staff are having at this point. I'm certain that the ministerial inspectors had the most favourable impression of what you have managed to learn at Hogwarts up to your final year: your magical knowledge, diligence, respect for your teachers and for each other. I have no doubt that at the first opportunity the Headmaster will join me in similar words of gratitude. The class is dismissed; your homework is on the board."
The blackboard was the only item that had remained in its place.
Students began to disperse, picking up their wet, class-scattered textbooks.
"Wow, there's a lot of water in here…"
"Filch would make Squibs out of us for doing that…"
"Has anybody seen my wand? Guys, please, what will I do without it?" Hannah Abbott lamented, meandering among the upturned desks.
"…gets wet, burns up, gets wet, then burns up again," Terry Booth grumbled mournfully, rolling up his endless scroll of parchment. "I've rewritten my homework for the fifth time already…"
"Sorry, Professor McGonagall," Hermione sighed, walking away.
Dean, who was making his way to the exit behind her, stumbled and, trying not to look into Minerva's eyes, muttered:
"Sorry, Professor."
"Sorry, Professor…"
"Sorry, Professor…"
Even some of the Slytherins apologised.
Hermione's friends stood by the door, waiting for her impatiently. Although the break was over, the corridor in front of the classroom was full of students with different coloured ties. Everyone wanted to know the details – about the inspection and about the inscriptions in the sky that had been seen by the whole of Hogwarts. Harry was paler than death.
"What took you so long?" Ron pulled the girl towards him. "Neville's feeling bad."
Hermione focused instantly.
"Scar?" she whispered.
"That as well, but I don't care about it right now," Harry answered in a voice full of suffering.
"Why are your hands bleeding?" the girl queried, stunned. "Did it –"
"Not here…" Neville pleaded, hiding his beaten, bloody hands in his pockets. "I… need to go to the bathroom. Urgently."
"Let's go then."
Deciding to skip Muggle Studies, they passed the excited crowd and ran towards the toilets. A ladies was closer this time. Scaring off a bunch of first-years, the Gryffindorian trio squeezed into a stall – it became more difficult to fit into one by the seventh year – and sealed the flimsy door with protective spells.
"Spit it out!" Hermione pleaded. The thought that the Chosen Boy might have just needed to go to the bathroom hadn't occurred to her for even a minute. "I've almost lost my life today and got enslaved for the rest of it. Where is it? Did you understand? Did you get it?"
"Yeah, pull it out already," Ron joined in, propping the enchanted door with his back. "Let's take a look."
"Just gimme a sec," Harry moaned, rummaging under his sweater for a suspiciously long time.
"Want some help?" Hermione said impatiently.
"Nothing will help me anymore… this… Horcrux… tore me into pieces," the young man finally pulled out an absolutely insane hamster, tightly holding it with both hands. The hamster was covered in Harry Potter's blood from head to paws, and therefore looked even more bellicose.
"Galloping Gargoyles!" exclaimed Ron. "Just an incarnation of evil!"
Hermione swallowed.
"Sparta's feats are nothing compared to this! I take back my words about torments at Snape's. How did you manage to get through it?"
"I had no choice," Harry said in a weak voice, looking with hatred at the hamster, who was trying to escape his grip. "The main thing was to get this Horcrux, so I hid it under my shirt. I had barely enough time to transfigure the fake locket into Slytherin's to give it to Umbridge… Why didn't I shove this bloody thing in McGonagall's bosom? It's a pity I had to push her away, but I couldn't let her see what I was doing! Luckily I had the fake locket on me."
"That's not luck, Harry Potter, that's your destiny," Hermione said seriously. "I am your luck. When did you idiots realise that the First Deputy was wearing our Horcrux?"
"It's not ours, it's You-Know-Who's," Harry corrected her. "I personally when you transfigured it into a hamster."
"And I when the old toad began wailing 'This is Slytherin's locket!'" Ron beamed. "But we have you, Hermione!"
Hermione gave a hum of disapproval.
"I'm hungry," she said after a while. "And thirsty. Let's go back to the tower, since we are skipping the class anyway. I have some chocolate frogs in there – McGonagall gave them to me. Besides we need to heal Harry," she shuddered, glancing at the self-sacrificing Seeker's shirt, front of which was torn into shreds.
"Let's go," Ronald agreed briskly. "There's nobody there now, so we can figure out what to do with this thing," he looked unkindly at the hamster, whose red eyes were twinkling.
The hamster returned the unkind look and bit Harry's finger.