By the end of the day, the whole school had heard about Hermione's 'duel' with the dark arts professor. More people stared as she walked by, eyes wide with curiosity and fear. It was worse when she and Draco had walked to dinner together. They walked through the doors, laughing at a joke Draco had made when the room went silent. Everyone watched them, looking absolutely gobsmacked.
Draco had smirked giving her a salut and bowing, "I will see your later, Lord Hermione," he teased. Hermione, whose face was already permanently red from all the attention she was getting, hit him over the head and rolled her eyes, trying her hardest to look calm. She took a seat next to Ginny.
"I will never be over to get over you being friends with Malfoy… of all people!" The redhead grumbled, but it lacked disdain. The girl had been slowly getting used to the Malfoy, and was clearly starting to like him despite not wanting to. "Oh hush, you know you like him."
Ginny sniffed and turned her head away, but quickly forgot to be upset when the table was filled with food. "All anyone can talk about is how you dueled professor Black and survived," her friend said. Hermione nodded. "Yeah, she is a professor. She isn't allowed to actually kill me. Besides, she was holding back the whole time. I don't see what the big deal is, even Harry can do wandless magic."
"Not as well as you can. You do it so naturally. Like you don't even have to think about it," the girl was hitting closer to home than she thought. The witch waved off her friend, hinting that a change of conversation was necessary. Neville was the one who changed it. "Do you guys know that the minister of magic is here?"
A jolt of surprise went through the girl as she raised an eyebrow. "Kingsley is here?" Neville nodded, leaning closer to her as he quieted his voice. "Yeah. Gran said that something is going on, but she doesn't know what yet. Just told me to be prepared."
The rest of dinner was spent throwing ideas around. Ginny decided that the minister was there to personally ask Hermione to become the next minister of magic, which was ludicrous. And that is exactly what Hermione told her friend. But as she finished her meal, McGonagall approached Hermione and told her that Kingsley wished to speak to her. The witch stood, but as she did that, Ginny grinned at her and mouthed "minister."
Hermione was lead to a classroom that was empty, except for Kingsley Shacklebolt and Percy Weasley. She smiled at them as she entered, not even trying to hide her curiosity, "What a pleasant surprise," she greeted. Kingsley smiled at her. "Hello Hermione. I have limited time here, so I am going to get straight to the point."
The girl nodded her head, signaling for him to go on.
"As you are aware of, there is quite a bit of blood prejudice here. While there has been a lot less as of late, it is still too much. I worry that if I do not do something, then in another twenty years there will be another war as a new dark lord rises." The thought of that sent a jolt of panic through Hermione.
"Fortunately everything seems calm right now. So I plan to keep this calm, by implementing something new. As of this year, there will be a new tournament. Much like the triwizard tournament, but meant to showcase the talents of our community and bring unity. I plan on having people of every blood status in this event."
Hermione bit her lip, not exactly liking where this is going. When Harry had been in the triwizard tournament, she spent so much time worrying about his safety. The whole year was so stressful. "I'm sorry, but I fail to see why you are telling me this?" The minister gave her a look, as though he was disappointed. "I need a muggleborn to win this."
"And you want me?-"
"Yes."
"Doesn't that make the competition fixed?"
He glared at her for a moment before speaking. "If you are insinuating that I will cheat to make this happen, then you are wrong. I wish for you to think about joining, as you have proven to be very talented and I believe you could win."
"I am sorry, but I will enter no such thing. I have spent the entirety of my life at Hogwarts being in danger. I lived through a war. So I feel no need to join something that could ultimately result in my death."
He nodded his head in understanding. "I completely understand. While it is disappointing that you will not join, I can see why you won't. Thank you for your time Ms. Granger."
Before she could say anything, the door opened, and McGonagall stuck her head in. "Kingsley, can I speak to you for a second in my office?" The man uttered a quiet goodbye to Hermione and followed the professor out the door, leaving Hermione with Percy. The weasley crossed his arms. "Hermione, I like you, I really do. You have a very bright future somewhere in the ministry, and you helped end the war, and you are my brothers best friend. But this is something that I feel I must do. Ginny had mentioned your scars, she says you got them during the war, is that right?"
A feeling of dread settled in the pit of her stomach. Her best friend hardly bought her story, so what would her older brother think? He seemed to be watching her reaction to his words, and something about it made him look relieved. "I know how you got them." She froze at those words. How could he know?
"I have heard stories of people who can't control their magic. People who get scared of it and let it control them. You tried to restrain it, didn't you?" Her heart was beating in her chest. How does he know? Tears pooled in her eyes, but she refused to let them slip. She forced herself to stay strong, fixing him with a cool glare. "I can control it perfectly fine."
"No matter how much complicated magic you use, you just can't get enough magic out. It's bottled up inside of you, threatening to break out. Your outbursts, they have gotten worse haven't they?"
She denied it. "I don't know what you are talking about."
"You are a danger, Hermione. To yourself, and to others. Join the tournament, let that be the outlet for your magic; and if you don't, then I will be forced to tell the minister. I will have to let him know that people are going to get hurt."
She was shaking. Hermione felt rage course through her body as she stared down the Weasley. She was furious at him for finding out, for threatening to tell; and she was furious at herself for being so weak, for letting her magic control her. "I will not hurt anybody."
"Is that what you have been telling yourself?" he asked. "Is that what you have to tell yourself right now so you don't hurt me?"
Why does he have to be right? She turned to walk out, but as she neared the door, he called after her. "If you don't put your name down when they announce it, I will tell. It is my duty, Hermione." She walked out, slamming the door behind her as she shook. It wasn't fair. When she was certain she was far enough away, she leaned against the wall, breathing heavily as tears blurred her vision.
In her anger, she slammed her first against the wall, sending pain throughout her wrist. She held back a cry as she slid against the wall, resting her head on her knees as she cried. Her magic wasn't always like this. At one point her magic was normal and she didn't feel as though she was being controlled by it. But then as she got older, her magic began needing more and more. She needed to use it more often, use bigger spells. And she grew scared. When she used her magic, she would feel so alive. She feared what that made her. It wasn't until the final battle, that she realized how terrified she really was. She stood back to back with Bellatrix, the two of them fighting against death eaters. And instead of feeling scared, she felt so alive. It wasn't just the adrenaline that was making her feel that way. She felt so in control and loved that feeling. She liked bringing her enemies down. It was fun to her.
But after that all wore off, she was terrified. She was worried that she enjoyed it so much. And after exerting so much power that day, she needed to use more and more. So she stopped using it, and when she did that, her magic had bottled inside of her so much. She was so irritable and was in so much pain. Her magic was trying to escape but she would not let it. She was determined to control it instead of letting it control her.
"Ms. Granger?"
She lifted her head up to meet concerned dark ones. "Professor," she greeted in a voice that was hardly above a whisper. The woman kneeled in front of her, studying her. She then took noticed of the young witch's hand, that was slightly bloodied. She sucked in a breath and reached over to grab it, "What happened?"
"I just got angry," she said quietly. Black pulled out her wand, bringing it to her hand and whispering a quiet "episky." Her hand healed up, feeling better, but Hermione hardly took notice of that. The older woman repeated her question from earlier.
"Just got into an… argument."
"What about?"
"Someone I thought I could trust betrayed me. That's all." The professor sighed, and reached her hand out. Hermione took it and let herself be pulled up. She avoided eye contact with the woman as she dusted off invisible dirt off her robes. It wasn't until she heard the woman clear her throat, that she looked up. Black raised an eyebrow at her. "This betrayal," she spoke, "is it something I need to know about?"
Technically, yes. But there is no way she would let anyone else know what was going on. So, she just shook her head. And while the professor looked unconvinced, there was nothing else she could really do. Instead, the beautiful woman opted to walk Hermione towards the Gryffindor common room. "Whatever it is you aren't telling me, miss Granger. I really hope, for your sake, you are being honest when you say you really don't need to tell me."
"I have it under control."
When she finally made it back to her dormitory, she headed straight for her journal that was hidden away under her mattress. While writing down her feelings isn't something she would typically do, McGonagall had encouraged her to use journaling as an outlet for her emotions during her fourth year when she had gotten particularly stressed out one day. And after attempint it, the witch realized it was a rather useful way to express herself without being interrupted.
Her eyes scanned some of her previous entries.
2 May, 1998
The war has officially ended. I fought back-to-back with Bellatrix Lestrange of all people. She surprised us all when she turned to our side, but Merlin, she looked so free in that moment. She moved around the battlefield with such grace; it almost appeared as though she were dancing. The fight was exhausting, but even though it is over, I can not fall asleep. The adrenaline rush has only just faded, and now I am more horrified than ever. I don't think I have ever felt more alive in my life. There is something so satisfying about having so much power. But that thought terrifies me.
My magic has been reacting strangely. I feel as though I still need to let it loose, but I already exerted so much in the battle. What more is there for me to release? I am so worried that this will control me. That rush from earlier was addicting, and I fear if I keep using my magic, it will control me and make me a bad person.
5 May, 1998
I have not used my magic since the battle. I feel so irritable. Like someone going through the effects of withdrawal. Already today I have snapped at people multiple times, and it's not even the afternoon. What if I can't get this under control? Will I be forced to never use my magic again? The thought of that scares me more than I would like to admit.
10 May, 1998
Merlin help me, I am in so much pain. My whole body aches and I can't stop shaking. Everybody is growing concerned, so I have started spending time away from them all. At the moment I can tell them it is just PTSD from the war, but how long will they buy that for?
The entries continued on, explaining everything that was going on. And in every single one, the fear just continued to increase. She had tried researching her problem, but there doesn't seem to be any books on the subject. But surely someone had to of had this problem before?
Her thoughts went back to Percy. She wondered what he could possibly know, and if he was correct the tournament would help her magic. Either that, or it makes it worse-much worse.