.
So far... The reborn Hermione launched the Cathesis League to fight Dark corruption, and Crest defensive training at Hogwarts where she and her friends are now in their third year. Harry and Ginny broke into Professor Bagshot's quarters to get Merlin's Onyx but were unsuccessful. Now read on...
.
Chapter 84
The History Onyx
.
Covering Up
Harry Potter brooded in the shower much longer the night he and Ginny had raided Bagshot's, annoyed that he'd failed to deliver Merlin's Onyx to Hermione. You don't have to prove yourself to her – you know that! he reminded himself repeatedly. Still...
The steam eventually drove him out, pink-skinned from the heat and glowing all over. He dried himself, wrapped a towel around his waist, and trudged back to the dormitory.
It was very late. The house-elves had stoked up the fire to deter the cold weather from fingering in through cracks and crannies. Ron and the others, drowsy and comfortable, were already asleep. Harry sat on his bed listening to the flames crackle and wondering whether to use a cooling charm on himself or the fire. Eventually he slung the towel over his travel trunk to dry, threw back his bedcovers all but one thin cotton sheet, then slid into bed.
Ron's breathing was steady and heavy. A window clicked as the night air contracted its delicate stone mullions. Harry's fingers reached out to summon it open ... but then his arm fell back; the chilly air would be refreshing now, but in an hour or so, once the fire had died down, the bedchamber would be too cold. Perhaps there'd even be a frost; his dorm mates wouldn't thank him if they woke up shivering. He pulled the sheet tight up under his chin and finally began to relax. His eyes were drooping...
The sound of breathing stopped. The fire fell silent too. Alerted by the sudden hush, Harry's eyes flicked open again. A young girl clad only in pyjamas was leaning over him.
"Tell me again about these bathroom tiles," breathed the whisper in his ear.
"Hermione! What are you–"
"–couldn't sleep. What magic was on the – eep! Are you ... n–naked under there?" Colour sprang to Hermione's cheeks and she averted her gaze to heave the entire mass of the other bedcovers up to his chin.
Harry groaned as the thump of blankets fell upon him.
"Sorry!" croaked Hermione. Her face flushed even more deeply and she stood staring at the far wall as she blustered onwards, "Could you tell what kind of magic was on any of the – I doubt you had t– If we could – I mean eliminate – the one tile might – or suppose not there – any missing? – A gap? – don't think they wanted it found or – did your best – priceless – I mean – valuable – on a wall? – don't think so – but what if–"
"–There was – yes, I think I did see... something," said Harry, staring hard at Hermione's back where the fabric of her top was half tucked aside revealing a narrow patch of bare skin at her waist. A few moments passed while he blinked in wonder.
"What? What did you see, Harry?" She did not turn round. Perhaps she was afraid he'd climbed out of bed to get dressed.
"What? See what?"
"In Bagshot's. You said–"
"–Oh yeah, a few fluffy white clouds drifted across all the tiles! They were sky blue, you see, but enchanted!"
"So one charm covered them all, you think?"
"But something caught my eye – I never took much notice until you just said about..."
She twisted her hips around slightly but didn't look directly back at Harry; her gaze had fallen upon the damp towel. "'bout wh–what?" Her whisper croaked hoarsely.
"Erm.. yes, about there being a gap! Ginny made some toilet joke and I must have ... glanced at the uumm..."
"toilet?"
"toilet – yes – as a little cloud passed near the ... water tank thing at the back. Perhaps I ... imagined it..." He tailed off breathlessly.
"Imagined what, Harry?"
"Uuh... the cloud seemed to flow behind the tile next to the cistern support, then emerged the other side. Perhaps it was just part of the bracket."
"Could be – uumm... look, I'm sorry, Harry, I ought not to have burst in on you like this. You might have been... uuh... uumm... asleep. I'll er..." She began inching sideways towards the door.
"No, it's alright, honestly... I..."
Hermione had faded through the closed door. Ron could be heard faintly snoring again. Sparks crackled and spat in the fireplace as before.
"...I wasn't asleep," Harry murmured softly. There was disappointment in his tone – and aftershock too. What had just happened? It had always felt nice when they'd kissed and been close to each other – but never this jubilant terror, this excitement, this surge of desire to be – yet NOT be – utterly exposed to her. How he wished... NO! His mind raced. She'd have known all of him, right down to his deepest shameful desires. And he wanted her to know! Yet NOT know. The poor boy endured unknown minutes lying motionless on his back, trying to keep still, fighting the oldest primal urge to possess man, until finally he succumbed to strange watery dreams where, dragged down, down, down by heavy, wholly-encompassing armour that he was unable to remove, he observed a beautiful otter writhing and coiling sinuously about his impenetrable protection.
.
Revealed
"Are you certain you are able, Luna?" Hermione whispered into the darkness.
"I'm ready if you need me."
Hermione nodded. "Then wait here."
Hermione took a deep breath and focused on the oh-so-familiar blackboard before her – then reached out with her magic. ... Delicately she traced out the powerful interlacing charms that Harry had reported but could not understand. They weren't barriers; they were sensitive detection spells designed to raise a positive alert should anyone open the door hidden behind the blackboard.
Her fingers caressed the strands of bewitchment, tracing the shapes, appreciating the sorcery – then plunged right through it. No magic could sense the immaterial girl nor act upon her. Even her gasp of delight was silenced. The blue hangings were as lovely as Harry and Ginny had described them. She cast a spell to confirm there was no alarm magic in operation, then cautiously dipped her face through the door Ginny had told her led to the bedroom...
The old lady in the bed still caused Hermione to shudder on occasion – and the young girl wished she'd worn a dressing gown to hug about herself. Those wrinkled, grey features had once concealed the deadly Nagini in her former life: an animated cadaver that had fooled both herself and Harry. Now the bag of flesh breathed the steady rhythm of sleep and life while around her prone form was the magical starry sky spread across ceiling and walls except for a couple of dull paintings and a tiny window.
Satisfied, Hermione pulled out and and became visible and material again before opening the bathroom door. What a sight! The large, rounded tiles shone sky blue – as bright as any day. She waited and waited, watching for one of the fluffy white clouds to cross behind the cistern. They were slow and few. Impatient, the girl approached the tank and tried to decide which of the closest tiles might be the Onyx.
From her pocket she extracted a set of hardness picks as recommended by the Muggle Geology book in the Black's library, then lifted out one from the middle. "Now this won't hurt a bit..." Hermione murmured as she closed in on one of the fattest pebbles next to the cistern...
"Ingenious – but you won't–"
–Hermione was already crouched and whirling immaterially – yet intellect quickly pushed aside instinct, and she deliberately fumble-dropped her wand – vanished the picks – conjured a fake camera beneath her robes – then burst into tears as she pulled it out. "I'm thsorry, Profethsor Bagthshot! My friendsth dared me to take a photograph of your famousth bathroom tilesth that–"
"–Hah! An unlikely story. No one but a very powerful witch could have passed through Dumbledore's magic without being–"
"–That's not–"
"–Yes?"
"Nothing." Hermione did not wish to inform Bagshot of Harry and Ginny's earlier incursion using brute force. She rose dejectedly to her feet to squarely face the old lady standing before her in faded night robes that matched the grey hair.
"Trying to protect Mr Potter and Miss Weasley? The window is much better protected since their earlier break-in."
Hermione blinked. "You knew? How...?"
"That was my doing," came a voice from the other room.
"Madam Binns's portrait," explained Bagshot. "How often the gifted overlook the simplest–"
– Hermione's shoulders sagged.
"Oh, no need to be disappointed in them; they did wonderfully well to–"
"–I am NEVER disappointed in my friends, Professor!" snapped Hermione, "but I am disheartened by my own inadequate teaching and personal failings."
"Failings! You entered these chambers which even Professor Dumbledore himself could not do without triggering his own weave of sentinel charms! However did you manage it?"
Hermione kept her silence.
Bagshot went out into the living area to ask the painting, "Which way did she enter, Tishia?"
"I know not. Despite my utmost vigilance, I saw naught till the privy was opened."
"So, Miss Granger," the old lady called over her shoulder as she turned back to look through the open doorway into the bathroom, "you have mastered invisibility? Come here. How old are you really?"
"Fourteen." Reluctantly, Hermione trudged out.
The old lady tilted her head in mocking disbelief. "The Headmaster has told me of the prophecy. You're the Twice-born, aren't you? The Maven?"
Hermione's eyes blazed. "Snape told him the prophecy?"
Bagshot nodded grimly.
"So he is spying for Dumbledore. But you must not inform the Headmaster about tonight. I will not permit the Headmaster to take control of–"
"–Not permit? Do you think you might deny the greatest wizard of–"
"–Oh, yes." Hermione's tone was flat and final.
Now it was Bagshot's turn to fall mute.
After a few moments, Hermione added, "But I am very reluctant to ravage a mind as fine as your own, Professor. I need only your word that you will not tell him."
"I cannot guarantee never to–"
"–then give me a year! Six months! If you cannot trust your Maven then why are we even having this discussion?"
Professor Bagshot looked thoughtful for a while, eyes gazing into the distance of the velvety, sea-blue shrouds before responding in a somewhat sly manner, "Then prove yourself further. Merlin's Onyx is hidden deep within my home in Godric's Hollow where no one can ever find it. Take it without my knowing and you may use it under my guidance."
Hermione smiled. "I already have it."
"Impossible!" flared Bagshot, and her hand clutched at her chest.
Lifting her hand, Hermione held up a fine chain from which hung a smooth stone striped with blue. "I felt certain you would never be far from something this precious and... dangerous. Where else but on your person?"
"How? When?" Petulance glittered in the old lady's eyes at being outsmarted by a child wearing pink fluffy pyjamas.
"After you left the bathroom I followed invisibly, then returned."
Astonishment replaced irritation. "Such magic! Unseen, unheard, you reached magically through a protective jinx and, within mere seconds, took a most prized possession from my very bosom! No wonder the Black Arc fear the coming of the Maven!"
"Will you then give me my six months? A storm is coming at the Ministry, Bathilda. Only when power is seized will it be safe for my identity to become known."
Bagshot found a chair upon which to sink. Deep breaths she took. "You intend to become Minister? At your age?"
"I cannot reveal my plans to you except to say... such power has no attraction for me. Tell Dumbledore only that his sentinel sorcery remains unbroken and you will continue to keep watch. You and your–" She whirled around to fix her gaze upon the painting. "Where does your allegiance lie, Madam Binns?"
"With History – as ever," replied the portrait who had the grace to bow her head. "You may rely on my silence."
"Thank you. And now, Professor Bagshot, if you would...?" Hermione held up the Onyx, dangling on its twisted chain, yet it did not twirl in the slightest. "What does it do? And, more importantly, how?"
.
Looking Back
Bagshot stared for a long time at the Onyx, her eyes glittering in the strange blue light. Finally she rose from her chair and spoke. "Merlin's fear was very great that his mightiest work would always be in danger of falling into the wrong hands. For years he contrived many intricate curses to protect it from evil-doers, yet none was foolproof. Finally he empowered the History enchantment itself in some unknown fashion to serve that additional purpose. It is to your credit that you succeeded in gaining possession, for here you are: still living."
"How do you know that is what he did?"
"I, myself, witnessed him declaring his intention as he performed the magic."
"What! How could...? And why would he voice aloud his great secret?"
A soft smile crept in at the corners of Bagshot's mouth. "Not so smart this late at night, are you, Hermione? He intended that someone would hear."
"Who?"
"Whoever had the Onyx."
"You travelled back a thousand years!"
Bagshot shook her head. "The History Onyx is not a Time-turner, Miss Granger."
"Then how...?"
"Events, especially magical or deeply emotional events, affect and impress themselves upon their surroundings. In some situations the Onyx can reveal these incidents."
"What situations?"
"For one thing, you have to be present with the Onyx at the location of the original event."
Hermione's eyes blazed wide with excitement. "That's why you travel so much isn't it! You search for sites of known historical significance to hear what really happened! It must be a real joy for a lover of history such as yourself."
Bathilda Bagshot's face creased with happiness, and Hermione saw now how far the old lady was from being that lifeless horror she'd visited with Harry so long ago in Godric's Hollow.
The young girl lifted the stone and gazed around the room, eager to try it out. "How do you...?"
Bagshot shook her head. "These fabrics are too soft to preserve the delicate vibrations of bygone days."
"The bathroom pebble tiles then!" Hermione dashed to the open doorway.
"Too young. Those are ceramic, fired in a kiln in recent years, and not so dense and enduring as rock. Yet... perhaps..." She drew Hermione back. "Try the stone surrounding the parlour window. This castle is ancient."
Hermione walked across to look out; she could faintly discern the battlements against the night sky. "What do I... how do you use the Onyx?"
"You don't. Instead, let it use you as an outlet. Stroke it gently over the stone. You need to get a feel for it. Speed, pressure, and, as with all magic, even your own determination and intent, will affect it.
Hermione flicked her arm.
"No, no... you're not striking a match! Imagine you are drawing out something recorded there long ago."
"Like a needle in a record groove! With me as the tonearm, amplifier, and loudspeaker!"
"A what? Ah, yes, a gramophone."
Several attempts were made without success.
"Concentrate on your feelings. Press a little harder. Move more evenly. Use two hands if you wish to steady yourself. Feel the vibrations."
Hermione took a deep breath, rolled up the sleeves of her pyjamas, then drew the Onyx smoothly across the sill. She screamed as the window exploded glass into her face. A young girl riding a broomstick sped close over her shoulder and, half-hidden in the darkness outside, another figure glared angrily at Hermione. She staggered back, turning as the other girl cried out, "Well? You coming in or what?"
"Ginny? GINNY! WHAT ARE–?" She spun back to the window, but the boy outside was fading – yet not before she realised who he must be. "Harry!"
"Not bad for a first attempt," said Bagshot.
The visitors were gone. The window was intact.
"You can SEE into the past? Not just hear things said? And they could see me! Harry looked at me rather angrily."
"He looked through you, Hermione, as did Miss Weasley. No, you cannot disturb History, only reveal it."
"Then where is the danger? Everyone should know of– this could be a wonderful–"
"–Would you wish just anyone to watch you in your most private moments? Even if they were friends? And what of the most evil? The Black Arc for instance. They would use this tool to spy on every move made by their opponents, every plan you make might be known to them. You would have to always live surrounded with soft materials. Sea water is woven into the very fabric of these drapes around you yet that small portion of exposed stone at the window revealed what happened earlier. I viewed their entire visit to make sure they would become suspicious of the bathroom tiles and so innocently lure you into my trap."
"I see... yes, I understand now why you – we – must keep Merlin's Onyx secret. That's why you daren't report Draco's abuse of Gemma Farley, isn't it?"
Bagshot frowned. "I never discovered the assailant. Many passed through Hogwarts' corridors, and that clouded the issue. I saw Miss Farley leave your training session with Nott. I later viewed him practising spells on his own at the time of the murder. I used the Onyx to look earlier and spotted Miss Farley here and there but alas, I also glimpsed flickers of hundreds of students moving about the corridors. Dull routine does not imprint itself very well in the stone.
"But the violation itself! Nothing more wicked! Surely–"
"–That's the strange thing. There was no trace of the attack anywhere. Her naked body was discovered in a second floor corridor but had been placed there invisibly. I spent hours scouring the second floor with the Onyx but without witnessing the crime itself. In a castle built of ancient blocks, it seems impossible that none of its stones are imbued with what must have been an horrific scene. How could there be any chamber within Hogwarts where solid stone did not witness such a dreadful event?"
The truth struck Hermione then. The old lady sensed it in the girl's changed expression. "Don't tell me you know of such a place?"
Hermione nodded gravely. "But Gemma did not know how to enter it. None of the Slytherins did... except–!"
The rage that flared in the eyes of the most powerful, most dangerous person on Earth was not to be taken lightly. Professor Bagshot stepped back in alarm, fearful at the change in the young witch-woman. Pink pyjamas transfigured into robes of black. There was no whisper, no crack of Disapparition, yet the old lady was suddenly alone with only the company of a painting to reassure her she had not imagined the entire encounter with Hermione Granger.
Yet only a few seconds passed before the old lady recovered her composure. "Hurry, Notishia! Inform the Headmaster I can confirm that Miss Granger is the Maven and that I am on my way to tell him everything."
Madam Binns's portrait smirked. "I shall be there in moments. Phineas will be delighted to give me access through his painting."
.
The Informant
Dark creatures moved unseen across the Forest floor, yet snow-white was the form weaving unafraid through the canopy above. Its twists and turns came to roost in the broad bowl formed by the welcoming arms of a great oak. A groan rent the air. Then another. The pale shape writhed and shuddered with pleasure.
"TRAITOR! ... JUDAS! ... YOU BETRAYED US ALL, ZABINI!"
Not even a Maven can disturb the prolonged lovemaking of an angel nymph. Hermione fumed through fifty minutes of frantic shrieks and indelicate whimpers. Blaise was never directly revealed, save for the jerky contours of a knee thrusting against a broad feathery wing, or a dark hand caressing the curve of Imogene's cheeks. Despite her fury, a kind of envy arose in the young girl: the union would extend beyond this earthly life, forever climaxing like breakers rising and crashing on the beach of eternity.
This mortal manifestation of delight however, finally receded; the tide flowed peacefully out; Blaise and Imogene were revealed lying side by side, holding hands and gazing into each other's eyes. The woodland was silenced by the magnitude of the event. It seemed a sacrilege to disturb the magic, but despite being mollified by the passage of time, Hermione had a mission to fulfil:
"Zabini, you told someone how to enter the Room of Requirement. Who?"
Imogene uplifted her face. "Hermione! How wonderful! My mate is in blissful stupor; he cannot yet hear you."
Hermione sighed. "You ask him then. A life was lost and he has to answer."
She heard them exchanging whispers. Zabini stirred but was unable to sit up. His voice, when it came, was weak and breathless. "... was asked ... saw no ... harm."
"Asked? Who asked you?"
"She did. ... Gemma herself. ... thrilled to join us ... in Crest. ... Eager to train. ... No one overheard ... I made sure of that."
"But YOU only knew because Daggard Imperiused Susan to show you where you could hide when..." Hermione's voice faded away as she realised Blaise had acted innocently, had assumed everyone in Crest would know how to enter the Room of Requirement. Hermione sighed. Draco must have extracted the information directly from Gemma through trickery or torture, overpowered her will with love potion, violated her for so many brutal hours that she died, then slunk away like the rat he was. He must suffer!
"Hermione...?" murmured Imogene.
"Tell Blaise ... tell him ... it's not his fault."
Thank goodness Dumbledore knows nothing. He would never permit the coming changes at the Ministry nor the retribution I intend to wreak on that lecherous Draco Malfoy!
.
The Art of Magic
Back through the stones of Hogwarts Castle drifted Hermione Granger, anxious to check that Professor Bagshot had remained isolated from Dumbledore. What if the Headmaster had set another trap and was even now awaiting her return? Stealthily she peeped through from the History classroom wall. All was dark and silent except for the low blue ambience and... and a faint shadowy figure whispering to the portrait of Madam Binns at the far end of Bagshot's quarters. Inward she moved.
Candle flames suddenly flared brightly.
"YOU!" shrieked the portrait of Madam Binns. "You'll be expelled for this!"
"Luna...?" whispered Hermione.
"Almost finished," came the dreamy reply from the girl in front of the picture.
Hermione breathed in the scent of turpentine as she approached. "Is it working?"
"You'll never get away with this! Professor Bagshot–"
"–is deeply Stupefied," cut in Hermione. "I'll deal with her later."
"How? How could you have known?"
"Professor Bagshot is a long-standing friend of the Dumbledore family. I knew she'd never give in that easily, so brought in Luna invisibly while I was still in the bathroom. I'll Obliviate the activity of this evening from Bagshot's mind."
"Perhaps – but you'll not shut me up so easily!" cried the picture. "You can't Obliviate magical paintings. And YOU! Get this disgusting mud off me!"
Luna giggled. "I'm repainting your recent memories as simply as I daubed your passage to Phineas Black's portrait in the Headmaster's study to divert you into this tar pit. I thought a black and sticky end was quite appropriate."
"But there's a hairy elephant squashing me into the frame! I'm sure to get a splinter in my ear!"
"It's a woolly mammoth to keep you from moving your head," corrected Luna serenely. "I felt it added a touch of drama. "She sighed. "History does not teach enough about ancient magical creatures, or how they became invisible to Muggles hunting them."
As Hermione disappeared into the bedroom, Luna crushed the end of an old wand until the tip was spread into scores of woody fibres, dipped it into a memory vial, then began stippling over Binns' temples while the old woman remained trapped by the mammoth. The eyes of the lady in the portrait glazed over. She stopped talking, and dozed off.
"There! She'll remember nothing of this when she wakes."
By the time Luna had collected up her brushes and paints, Hermione had returned with a satisfied look on her face. "I've put a copy of Merlin's Onyx around her neck. It won't work of course, but I doubt she'll have reason to use it further while she's working at Hogwarts – especially now I've modified her thinking. I'll try to return the real one to her after Christmas, but meanwhile–"
"–You can use it to find proof that will free Theo!" cried Luna.
"I'll scour the castle for clues. I can go where Bagshot could not."
"Into Draco's dormitory!" Luna's eyes gleamed. "Perhaps he talks in his sleep."
"Something has to turn up. But if Theo is freed, I'd like to see some sign of remorse for his assisting the attack on The Burrow! Muggles' lives were discarded as irrelevant."
"I think Theo must now be very sorry," said Luna. "All these weeks tormented by Dementors would make any but the most hardhearted repent. We should hurry to help him."
"It may take some time to find proof that Draco is the real culprit," sighed Hermione.
"Is there nothing we can do now?" wailed Luna. "He's suffering dreadfully, and we know it was not he who harmed Gemma."
Hermione's gaze turned inward for a few moments – gathering herself for both joy and sacrifice – then her eyes blazed. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
.
—oOo—
.
Author's Notes
The idea for the History Onyx was partly inspired by a sci-fi short story I read years ago so I don't claim originality. Can't remember what it was called but I liked the idea of a 'time-viewer' because there can be no paradoxes; it's just an archaeological tool and perfect for a history researcher like Bagshot.
I keep pushing myself to write. Even if it comes in drips and drops, I'll get there in the end.
Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful. :)
– Hippothestrowl
.
