Chapter 8
Thanks to the encouraging reviews! They help feed the muse, even if she doesn't kick me hard enough to write it all down sometimes. Also to the snow days, for giving me some time to write.
Please remember that this is sort-of following canon, but obviously not all the details, b/c then I would be trying my polyjuice potion out on JK Rowling. That stuff tastes terrible, even with her hair in it.
Over the next few days, Hermione managed to create a manageable peace between her new mouse (now named "Aquaman" – Hermione's tongue-in-cheek way of referencing his almost-fate) and Crookshanks, irritable as he was at the new arrangement.
Her roommates assumed that she had rescued the mouse from a Transfiguration class, and they were honestly more surprised that she hadn't already filled up their dormitory with all sorts of rescued critters. Hermione's soft heart and passion for needy creatures was well known by all at this point. More than once they had pulled each other away from one of her lengthy SPEW lectures, so a mouse was small business by comparison.
Hermione was glad that no explanations seemed necessary, as she was having a hard enough time juggling all of her secrets. Hiding the DA from Umbridge and her little minions, hiding her plant book and its secret messages from her roommates and friends, and hiding her lessons with Bellatrix from her friends, teachers, and Dumbledore. And, to be honest, from herself. She was beginning to call Bellatrix "Professor Black" in her head, and this "Lyra Black" version of the dark witch was beginning to seem like another person entirely. Hermione only rarely reminded herself that it was the same woman, but she usually preferred to forget.
It was easy to allow herself this luxury, as the magic she had been taught so far seemed merely an enhancement of the spells they learned in school. She was also beginning to understand how magic worked a bit better, in ways that were not in any of her books. Because none of this magic was in any of her books, none of it was labeled "dark magic", and it actually didn't feel dark to her. It felt like she was finally being recognized as the advanced student that she was, and given appropriate challenges to help her grow.
Add the fact that Professor Black was charming, engaging, and witty (and beautiful), and not crazy and evil and insane. Hermione couldn't possibly admire her so much elsewise, right? Surely if she were truly evil and insane, the young witch's instincts would warn her away?
That's the explanation that Hermione gave herself, anyway, when she wondered why her alarm bells weren't functioning a bit more… alarmy about the whole situation. There just wasn't any reason to be concerned. It would all be fine. There were bigger things to worry about than a couple of midnight lessons. She had plenty of other things to occupy her frenetic mind.
Things like Harry's odd dreams, and Umbridge's increasingly frightening power trips in the school, and of course classes and papers and grades. Hermione's grades had yet to suffer from her clandestine behaviors, but she was having to work harder than ever. And, as to be expected, she was having to help Ron and Harry more as well. Everyone was distracted, and everyone was worried about all sorts of things, and nothing felt right at Hogwarts anymore.
Harry had even been kicked off the Quidditch team, replaced by Ginny. This was another blow to Hermione's equilibrium, as she now had to contend with both the loss of time with her one close female friend AND the increased whinging of both Ron and Harry.
"It's not fair. It's not right. She's on a bloody power trip, that woman is. Probably getting paid off by Malfoy's daddy, or why would she care?" Harry would mutter.
"Ginny's good, and I don't want to be mean, but I really don't see how we can win the cup without Harry on the team. We don't have a chance, really," Ron would moan.
"Bloody Hell!" Hermione finally got fed up and yelled at them both. "We have more to worry about than bloody Quidditch!" Ron and Harry gaped at her, both in shock at her language and at the idea that anything could be more important than their favorite sport.
"Look! We are really getting somewhere with the DA – we have all gotten so much better. But the ministry is insane right now about refusing to admit that Voldemort is back, and I'm starting to feel like we really might be the only army that we have! And we are NOT PREPARED!"
"Hermione, geez…" Harry tried to calm his friend down, while Ron continued to gape helpfully. "Dumbledore knows what is going on, and the Order is…"
"What Is the Order doing? Do you really know?" Hermione cut him off. "I know you have been trying to communicate with Sirius, but we don't know anything. Do you realize that just like we might be training to help Dumbledore, the other side might be recruiting students also?"
Ron and Harry looked surprised at this idea. "Hermione, why would you think that? How would they even do that with Dumbledore in charge of the school?"
Hermione paused. She should tell them about the midnight meeting in the Hog's Head all those weeks ago, the recruiting meetings that were probably still going on. Though she'd not heard anything new about them since the first one, Jugson was probably brainwashing a load of Slytherins to turn over the keys of Hogwarts to Voldemort.
But if she told them, she'd have to explain why she had waited so long, and she couldn't come up with a reason that didn't give away everything she was keeping locked tightly to herself. While she searched for something she could tell them, Harry continued on.
"Look, you are just being paranoid. Dumbledore knows everything that is going on in this school, and there is no place safer for students to be. I mean, Umbridge is forming her own little army of brats here, but Dumbledore knows about all of that."
He doesn't know about everything, Harry, Hermione thought, but she shut up and let the boys get back to complaining about Quidditch. Harry did look searchingly at her a few minutes later, but she tried to look calm. Still, he offered her a few extra lessons on disarming and blocking spells, and she agreed, wanting to feel like she was at least doing something. She wished she could be learning from Professor Black, though. That would be a step in the right direction.
Hermione was not able to forget her special, private lessons. The memories of those hours spent practicing new magic in the boathouse felt so precious, so calming and empowering at the same time. But Hermione had so little like that in her life anymore that it started to seem like something unreal, out of a dream. As a result, she was quite startled to receive a new message in her book just a few weeks after the last. "Boathouse, midnight, Wednesday. No prep, just be ready to work."
Hermione's steps through the castle felt lighter. It was almost Christmas, and even with all that was going on, there was a bit of holiday cheer in the air. And on Wednesday, even the normally oppressive dark and cold of the midnight hour made Hermione giddy.
The young witch made her way quietly to the boathouse that night, dressed warmly and sensibly after a long battle with herself over appropriate clothing. She remembered to use a heating charm to keep herself warm, and reminded herself to be alert for her Professor's arrival. Now that she was so close to seeing her again, Hermione was remembering every detail of their last meeting in vivid, anticipatory detail. Her drive to impress was already in high gear, and she gripped her wand tightly in case she would actually know what to do when the moment came.
However, midnight came and went. After a quarter of an hour passed, Hermione began to wonder if her alertness was keeping her professor at bay. Maybe the older witch WANTED to surprise her pupil. Hermione tried to find ways to distract herself, practicing small transfiguration charms on bits of wood and trash nearby, and pretending that she wasn't paying attention. When this charade didn't have the desired outcome after another 15 minutes, Hermione became annoyed. By one a.m. annoyance had been joined by worry, both for herself and her teacher. At this point she should have been headed back to bed already.
When her obsessive checking of the book yielded no new messages, nothing along the lines of "Sorry, running late" or "Can't make it, go back to bed," Hermione decided to try something to feel useful. Is it next Wednesday? Did I get the day wrong?, she wrote, not even knowing if she could write back to her teacher this way. After another 15 minutes, and no replies to her small missive, Hermione got up to go back to the castle.
She wrapped her outer cloak around her tightly and stepped out of the boathouse, prepared to feel the cold wind coming off of the lake. She was not prepared for the sight that met her eyes. Standing at the water's edge, curly hair and dress blowing wildly in the wind, Bellatrix was waving her wand and making the water dance. Her back was turned to Hermione, but the student could see that her presence was known, just from the tensing of the older witch's back muscles above the corset. Bellatrix turned quickly to face the young witch.
Hermione had just been about to greet the woman, but her delighted exclamation of "Professor Black!" faded on her lips. This was not her professor, not this wild-eyed woman whose wand seemed to float on the night, skipping crazily along the breezes. Where there should have been steadiness of hand and gentle smirks and blue- streaked straight hair, there were instead jerky motions, a frenzied grin, and jet black curls. Hermione recognized the beauty still, but as if from a distance, through a murky glass. She remembered this dark witch in front of her, and suddenly she was terrified. This was the witch from the forest. This was Bellatrix, full throttle Bellatrix Lestrange.
"Ah, the little know-it-all," the dark witch sneered as she approached Hermione. Hermione found herself frozen, though she knew that this time there had been no "petrificus totalis" to render her this way. Her fear alone was enough to do this to her.
Bellatrix came very close into Hermione's personal space. She raised her wand and ran it down the young witch's cheek, shaking her head disapprovingly as she did so. "You must be something really special to be worth all the time my cousin has put into you, but I don't see it."
Hermione breathed shallowly, trying to watch carefully for some clue as to what to do, while most of her just wanted to bound away like a frightened rabbit. Bellatrix circled the girl and then walked a few steps away, turning back to the lake.
"She always gets herself caught up in the most useless projects, but she insisted that I come here to deliver a message. Like I don't have better things to do. I am BUSY, but she said this was important." Hermione could hear the sneer though the night air.
"I... I am so sorry for your troubles. What message did you have for me?" Hermione managed to stutter a few words, hoping that she could find out the information and be off safely with her life.
Bellatrix whirled, anger flashing in her eyes. Hermione took a step back as Bellatrix waved her wand emphatically in the air. "I am NOT a bloody messenger! Do I look like I owe you anything?" Hermione shook her head quickly.
"I TOLD her that you would figure it out that she couldn't come tonight, that you wouldn't stay here all night and freeze to death if you were so bloody brilliant. But she INSISTED. She must think you are truly a half-wit, and here you are, hours after she hasn't arrived, still waiting for her."
"I… I am sorry…"
"STOP APOLOGIZING! For Merlin's sake, just get back to the castle and let me get on with my night! I have important things to do!"
Hermione didn't need to be told twice and turned on her heels to run off. She only got a few steps before she turned her head over her shoulder to call out, "Thank you!" She had fully expected that the dark witch would be gone, but she still stood there, hair flying in the wind, eyes intently watching the young woman's retreat. At Hermione's thanks, she nodded once briefly and waved her had back towards the castle, as if to urge her on.
Hermione's eyes searched the canopy of her bed in the dark, seeking answers that eluded her. What was Bellatrix up to that night? Why hadn't she been able to teach her? Why had she come at all to tell her that she couldn't come, and why hadn't she come as her alter ego? Maybe they really were two people?
Hermione searched back through all of the encounters she had had with the dark-haired woman (women?) and concluded that they had to be the same person. And then the next time concluded that they had to be different people. Her flip-flopping mind led to a flip-flopping body, but finally she promised herself to look for answers in the morning and allowed herself to go to sleep.
The next morning came too soon, as it always seemed to, and Hermione headed down to breakfast with bleary eyes. She was halfway through her oatmeal when she realized that Ron, Harry and Ginny had not yet joined her at the table. She wondered if she were late to breakfast, or if there was a Quidditch match that she had forgotten about, but upon perusal, the rest of the tables had the normal gatherings of students. She continued to crane her neck about, even looking towards the staff table. She caught Prof. McGonagall's eye, and instead of giving the typical curt nod, the older woman suddenly got up and began walking down the aisle between the tables towards Hermione.
She knows. Crap. What do I tell her? That the darkest witch in Britain was having a midnight chat with me last night? Crap! What do I tell her?
While Hermione tried to panic and eat her oatmeal calmly at the same time, Prof. McGonagall came ever closer. Finally the elderly professor stopped beside her, placed a firm hand on her shoulder, and spoke.
"My dear, I think you should come with me. Something has happened, and I will need to explain it to you. There has been an accident."
Getting kicked out, getting thrown in Azkaban, come with me dearie and let's call the dementors… Hermione barely heard the words that were actually spoken, but finally they clicked.
"Wha—what?" She looked around again. "Harry and Ron? Ginny? Is everyone ok? What's going on?"
"Please, dear, come with me. Your friends are fine, but there has been an accident at the Ministry, and Mr. Weasley has been injured."
Hermione followed her teacher out of the main hall, walking in a daze. It wasn't until they were most of the way to her office when Hermione's stomach plummeted. She had suddenly remembered that Bellatrix's words: Let me get on with my night! I have important things to do!
Hermione was not typically a religious person, but she suddenly found herself praying. For what, she was not sure.