Unfortunately, the following days the boys ignored her. Hermione tried to shrug it off and pretend this didn't stab so deep. It might have worked if she wasn't still having those nightmares. They no longer happened every night, apparently the effects of the tea wore off or people became immune to it like a poison, but they were still coming often enough Hermione had decided she'd had enough. Damn what her teacher thought. Hermione wouldn't take another day of that stupid drugged up mess, not even if it affected her Divination grade. Hermione's science raised mind wasn't at all suited for premonitions which may or may not come true. Worse, premonitions which may only come true only because she did pay them credence and fussed over it, creating a self fulfilling vision. Trelawney could take her garbage tea and shove it. Hermione would find other ways around her problems, till she could have access to a true expert in the field her dreams were only making her weaker.

The third night Harry and Ron ignored her, not even looking up from Wizards Chess when she'd walked over to say hello, she recognized this exact moment from one of her earliest tea induced dreams. Upon seeing it'd come true Hermione ran up to her dorm, pulling her hair, then stopped as she saw the blasted dream journal. She might have panicked, unlatched the nearest dorm window, and thrown her entire divination dream journal and divination reference text out of the tower. The remaining year's worth of tea leaves fluttered after into a frigid winter breeze.

She wished the tea leaves would stop working immediately, unfortunately the effects seemed to linger long and strong. That night she had the dream of her grim and Harry's unconscious or dead body. The fact the dream seemed to be telling her the situation with the grim seemed to lead to either an unconscious Harry or an utterly dead Harry, well those two options sucked. If Harry were talking with her, she might have told him about the dreams, but probably not. He got enough of that from Trelawney herself.

Hermione wasn't sure she'd ever cried so much or stayed locked in her bed curtains so long. For everything they'd been through their first two years, this third year of classes her boys had shown she was worth less than a delayed broomstick and a decrepit rat. Worse, if they wouldn't let her protect them then they would have to figure it all out on their own, and while that might be healthier for Hermione Jean Granger, she really didn't want Harry to die. Oh she cried. The sort of complicated emotions she couldn't solve or fix, just cope with them till the problems of the world could slowly sort themselves. Things like werewolf poverty or racial prejudice fueling a mad man's extremist group. They'd always be there and be a danger to her and her friends. Hermione just hoped they'd survive their Hogwarts years while waiting for the world to make up its collective social mind.

The notion had her walking well past curfew on January 1st. It was dark and cold but she'd no desire to go back to the tower. Besides, the latest school work had started to catch up with her. She needed the time with her books. Once her mind was made up she had a plan and a backup plan, with a route strategically avoiding the holiday's altered prefect patrols. Sneaking into the library had been ridiculously easy.

So easy she'd spent the next week there. It didn't take the bags away from her eyes or make her feel any less worn down, but books had always been there for her and the comfort of focusing on something practical tethered her emotions to a manageable level. Her curls weren't quite as crazy or sparking once she calmed down. Spending less time chasing stones and snakes, and less time trying to outthink dark wizards, those probably helped too. So the library became her haven again and she felt the inner turmoil settling.

Her seventh day sneaking out Hermione's head drooped towards one particularly large tome when there was a small pop beside her. She jolted so badly her bum left her chair. Hermione stared wide eyed at the tiny person beside her. They too had large eyes and even larger ears.

"Hello," The politeness beaten into her by her parents broke through her shock. "I'm Hermione. What's your name?"

"Winno, Miss, my's name is Winno."

"Nice to meet you Winno. I'm Hermione."

She shifted, moving to her feet, the bag of sugar free candies she'd made in her potions cauldron two nights ago crinkled in her still clenched hand. She forcibly relaxed her grip then held the bag out in offering.

"I made some candy. Would you like some?" At this she noticed their large eyes went wider. She hurried on, "These don't have any added sugar but they're gummy and full of fruit. Would you like to try one?"

"I's... Winno isn't sure she should linger, not when I's supposed to dust the library."

"The entire library?"

"Yes Miss. Elves have our own magic tied to the place we live. It makes it easy to care for."

"Would you show me?" The question flew out of her mouth.

Hermione's face must have been comical. The... Elf... Squeaked out a laugh. Then slapped her tiny hands over her mouth and blushed. With more cajoling Winno did show Hermione how to dust and several other tricks. Tricks which might not work as well for humans and took a painful amount of concentration to perform with only human hands, were incredibly interesting to the just turned 15 witch.

She turned to the tiny woman, "Winno do you think I could learn to do my other spells without my wand? Just like these?"

The elf looked to give this question a good deal of concentration. Before giving a nod sharp enough to waggle her ears. "Yes'm Miss Hermione. I believe you could."

"Would you be willing to meet me here again so I can show you my progress?" She gave a small smile, admitting, "It'd also be nice to talk with someone who knows the library even better than me."

The tiny woman's affirmed response was to snap her fingers and there on the table before her popped a parchment. On closer inspection she saw a study calendar, times which would be good for for wandless spell casting and the times Winno could make it. Hermione beamed, a surprised laugh escaped her lips and echoed through the otherwise empty library.

"Oh I think we'll get along well."

And they did. Hermione, who'd before been slightly abusing her turner privileges for helping Harry and reading as much of the library as she could, decided to turn an extra 8 hours each night to keep up with her new friend. Winno, at first, had been dubious.

Soon however the elf started to get freer with her speech, until one night she took one look at her friend and balked, "You're doing it wrong. I can't take it anymore."

Flabbergasted Hermione halted her hand from attempting to make a pineapple dance. Her fruit hadn't been elegant, but really. Confused at the tiny woman's outburst she intelligently gasped, "What?"

She'd never had anyone insult her pineapple before. It was a novel experience. However, she wasn't staring at the dancing fruit. The tiny person had looked at the witch, first critiquing her almost bruised eyes and sallow skin, then at the Golden Glowing Necklace. When Hermione noticed her watching the chain a jolt of anxiety shot through her.

"You need to sleep, eat twice as much, and relax more for each turn. Otherwise your core will continue to stretch without properly growing with you."

Hermione wasn't sure she heard correctly. She had to verify before she planned how to fix this. If it could be fixed. Her edging panic at her secret getting out pitched her voice high, "Turn?"

Winno waved a hand towards her neck. Stating, "It glows and so do you when you've been using it."

Her speech pattern had shifted to copy Hermione's the longer they spent together. Just as the witch had started copying as many of her original spells using just her hands, the Elf had huge curiosity of practicing the "Human Language". Her words surprised the witch.

"I didn't know that."

"Yes many of us can see it. Maybe just not the full wizards."

Hermione's anxiety abruptly dissipated, the gale force of stress at possibly breaking the ministry mandated magical contract dissipating with the knowledge. Why were there secrecy rules then? It seemed a little arbitrary.

Hermione's voice came out dry, "Some secret if every other person outside of wizards can see it."

"Hm hm, yes the magical ones at least. Centaurs would probably see just how much you used it and all the things you," the tiny lady paused to try a new word, her vocabulary rapidly expanding even with a few weeks of conversation. The lady elf's face focused as she tried the new pronunciation, "int... inad... ver..."

When Winno stumbled her friend guessed, "Inadvertently?"

"Yes! That! The things you change with each travel use. They's be good at seeing, the Centaurs. Just like the Goblins can see the metal and be knowing exactly what was done to make it this way. The Goblins would see how to un-work the time item and make it normal gold again. It's a different type of eyes and senses."

Having been successfully side tracked Hermione murmured, "You're all so incredible. Do you think Wizards take advantage of you?"

"Some cases, yes. But we take advantage of Wizards too. Some of us are just as bad, cruel too at times. We can choose to help or choose to hurt, or choose to stay separate entirely. We aren't harmless though, never. Our magic ties so closely to a wizard, their home, their living land, their possessions. We can kill them or ruin their lives just as much as they can try to hurt us. It's how we choose to live, that be making any being good or's bad. We've had wars before, between all the beings, but we've reached a peace for a few hundred years now, one which benefits almost all of us."

"But Werewolves and elves? Aren't you second class citizens here?"

"Here maybe. But we have our own societies. Societies which if you or any wizard had visited before practicing wandless magic, you'd be the one looked down upon. I'm a visitor in your society. I's like travel. And Hogwarts Grounds be old and feels replenishing."

Hermione lost in thought with it all mused, "Like a spa day."

The large head ducked and from behind clasped hands Winno could be heard as she giggled. Another humanism she'd picked up from her friend. Hermione smiled, happy for the 100th time that she'd offered sugar free candy to a stranger.

Somewhere around late January she started attending Flitwick's office hours. He'd caught her trying to do wandless charms and he'd enthusiastically invited her. Well, coerced might have been a better description of how he'd made her stay after charms period and all but dragged her to his office. An office filled with books and paintings breaking down the greatest duels of history. Hermione blinked when she realized 6 of the 10 weren't Wizards. The most notable were the depiction of a werewolf finalist tearing out a throat, next to a goblin gutting his challenger only to hang him with his own entrails. Flitwick noticed her looking.

"They changed the rules in 1948 to be mostly non lethal. The war had just ended and they didn't want to incite anymore fighting across borders. The international circuit has been rather tame ever since."

"I heard you were a champion. When did you participate?"

"1918 to 1945."

Hermione's surprise increased. She shifted back in her seat a bit. She'd never seen her smallest professor look so intense and like he was more dangerous than Quirrell and Lockhart combined. Under his stare she reminded herself this was one of the adults she trusted most. He wouldn't hurt her. His smile was small and sharp, his clawed hands sharper as he set them on the desk and leaned closer.

"Do you know Miss Granger what can allow a competitor of free reign duels to survive nearly 30 years?"

She shook her head, feeling uneasy. The tea Trelawney prescribed had left its mark. Now she was aware it was possible to sense magical signatures around her it was hard to shut it off. Flitwick's was hard to discern.

"No Sir."

He raised his hand and a massive book half in gobbledygook and half translated into English floated down.

"Wandless magic and do you Miss Granger know how dangerous wandless magic is to learn for 100% genetic humans? There's a whole book of reasons. You'll read it and you'll be attending every single one of my daily office hours until I deem you able to practice without taking off a limb. Is that understood?"

Apparently wandless magic, the sort she'd been attempting on her own, was indeed bad for a genetic human to start without supervision. The book didn't lie and Flitwick had her practicing on building up the strength of her magical network in her limbs, to help sustain them less they someday explode with too much flooding the network. Winno, when she'd found out Hermione had been studying outside of Winno's mandated wandless study times, actually smacked her head then made her take two days extra rest after Flitwick's first session. The man was grueling, far more so than in class when some students couldn't get their pronunciation down let alone begin post-NEWT specialties like wandless casting. Hermione was soon forced to schedule extra turns each week just to meet his demands for supervised time.

When she got over being flustered, Hermione recognized just how brilliant the small man was. He wasn't showcasing how intimidating he could be, but when he actually tried in wandless casting, he was another person entirely. Seeing it placed so many possibilities in her path, she wanted to see where they'd lead. Her teachers in defense were subpar at best and it was one of the magical fields she was most interested in. And here was Flitwick, dueling champion, forcing her to his office.

It was at the end of the first week of their one-on-one meetings that Hermione asked, "Sir, would you help me with some of the defense spells too?"

"You have a defense class do you not?" He wasn't upset, just curious to what she'd say.

"Oh yes and an entire year of Gilderoy, my favorite color is lilac, really helped the fundamentals."

His smile was still sharp, but now also amused. When she explained about Lockhart's lesson covering the anti-pixie jinx he all out chortled. Seeing his mirth Hermione's pinched mouth relaxed. She supposed it WAS funny now she's not dependent on the plagiarist to teach her a way out of life or death situations.

When Flitwick relaxed back in his seat and glowed at her, she shifted, almost uncomfortable with the intensity and clarity of his look. In that moment he looked much less than the half human he was said to be. His eyes went through her, taking her apart and putting her back together in a differently ordered shape.

"Miss Granger, I can teach you the anti-creature jinxes. They're more charms than defense anyways."

Her one hour daily with Flitwick turned into three. She knew she'd have to make a new schedule. With her turning hours more than tripled since Christmas this new level of study would throw a kink into her plans. It was this extra time which also left her free to peruse a great number of subjects at her leisure. Between Flitwick's book collection and Winno's all encompassing catalog of the library, she found a lot.

Like the one evening she got sick of the Daily Prophet's speculation and simply decided to read the Death Eater's trial transcripts and case evidence herself. Only to her surprise there wasn't anything there. Hermione searched, then searched the list of papers files automatically copied straight from ministry legal archives and Wizengamot sessions.

It wasn't there.

She was with Winno, who'd seen how frazzled her friend seemed and offered to help scour legal files and transcripts of passed trials, when Hermione noted, "Sirius Black never received a trial."

"That's not uncommon. It's not legal, but they have blamed many of ours past elves and banished them from your society without a trial."

Hermione's mouth tightened in a frown. Her face had forgotten its old pinched and haughty expression, to be replaced with something harder and more determined.

The Blacks have a seat, more than one, on the Wizengamot. If anyone should have gotten a trial in this prejudiced backwards hovel of a culture it should have been the rich pampered legislature's son. That he hadn't spoke volumes.

The next morning Hermione turned herself back one hour and jogged down to the quidditch Gryffindor's practice. Harry should be told. This could be huge. Sirius Black's lack of a trial, and his close involvement with the Potters, might mean they'd gotten it all wrong or were missing something crucial. She almost buzzed so eager she was to tell him.

When she arrived Harry and Wood were deep in planning and sat high above the rest of the team flying drills below. Patient and willing to wait Hermione sat herself down by the edge of the pitch nearest the groundskeeper hut.

Hagrid was wandering the edge of the grounds, drawing closer with Fang and trying to bait a black dog with meat and a hair brush. A massive black dog, one she'd seen before. Hermione stared at the grim. They weren't pack animals. She doubted many lived in the Forbidden Forest. It likely was the exact creature Crooks made friends with. Glancing again at her friend still talking to Oliver Wood, she skirted the seats and went to wait with Hagrid. The grim watched her approach but didn't leave. Nor did it let Hagrid any nearer with the brush.

Approaching him and the dogs she asked, "Would you like some help?"

The half giant boomed, "Hermione! I haav'nt seen ya down here in weeks. Harry got his broom back, he sai', but he still seems upset you thought it was sent from Sirius Black. He's been on about it th' last two times he came for tea."

Hermione's face fell. Part of her had forgotten about their row, it'd been so many turns for her since she'd started avoiding the common room Hermione had actually forgotten why she'd started spending so much time elsewhere. Her memory of it had dulled and her emotions no longer fueled the encounter about Sirius Black's threat. Frankly, she was more concerned the Lord of a House was very likely innocent of his charges and being used as a propaganda piece. Harry's feelings about a stupid broomstick seemed so small in comparison.

"Oh yes, that."

Hermione ran her hands through her hair. It was so much softer and calmer now. Well, so was she. Apparently wandless magic and defensive charms took most of the excess energy she'd always let build. These days she felt healthier and stronger. Eating, sleeping and taking a rest day for every study day really helped too. She unthinkingly ran her fingers to loosen a tangle from the wind.

The Grounds Keeper gave her a soft smile, his beard twitching, "Th't business is poor of him. Harry should have reported it himself. Sirius Black is dangerous. He's kill'd so many people and then com'n after Harry."

"You know, I'm not so sure he did kill those people."

"Missy-"

"He never got a trial!" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. Now she'd started telling someone it all came out. "And Harry, yes I can understand why he's upset. Black could be dangerous, if anything being around dementors for 12 years isn't good for anyone. Barbaric really subjecting people to personalized torture, but Black never got a trial and all those smart people on the Wizengamot should know that. Now why would all those people keep the Lord of a House on the run and out of their legislative leader seats? Why would the smart people at the Ministry send the very dementors after him who couldn't hold him in the first place? Black is being used. Dumbledore-"

"Now don't you say Dumbledore is doing this. He's a great man Dumbledore."

She placated, "Yes he's one of our heroes and I don't think he's directly involved, but as Lead Mugwump he could ask for a trial and then all of this would be cleared up. And I know he's busy, but maybe if we wrote both him and Madam Bones the two of them could spare some time."

Neither she nor the groundskeeper noticed the black animal raise it's ears and creep closer, nor how he'd practically snarled at some of their words. The black animal kept his gaze intent and sharp on the young woman.

"Azkaban." He frowned, possibly remembering his own two times spent there. Then told, "You know they took my wand and still don't give it back."

Over his huge shoulders she could see the red and gold streaks still busy in the air. They didn't look even close to done. Quidditch with Oliver Wood could run long. Should she wait?

Her eyes flicked back to their friend. Something about his statement felt wrong. Her memory flicked back to Winno telling her how many elves had been punished, abandoned, or thrown out altogether without trials. Hagrid, who'd before looked so concerned about the escaped convict now looked concerned for a whole different reason. She hated that look. Pained and caught up and rubbed down to something much too small like he'd been tied up and dragged for years. Like he didn't think he'd get up. No, she didn't like that at all. Her jaw hardened. For once she thought long and hard before she answered.

"Maybe we can get a trial for you too."

"You think'n so?" From behind the beard his voice sounded wet.

"We can try. I read that since the 50's they've been accepting memories as trial evidence. There's no reason a half decent lawyer wouldn't be able to argue for them to use yours."

Hermione raised her hand up and placed it on his arm. His eyes welled with tears at the touch.

"Want me to go back to your hut with you and help you write the request?"

At this the giant lurched forward and scooped the witch into a hug so gentle. She didn't mention how wet her hair was getting. She simply hugged him back. "I'll help with whatever you need."

The man lurched forward with her still in his arms. Sweeping them towards his hut. Two dogs trotting along after his great strides. Hermione, in her current state of being hug-carried away, decided she'd use another few turns to catch up with Harry soon.