Hello, readers!
Your reviews warm my heart. Thank you to the twenty (gah! There's a lot of you!) who left me encouraging or excited feedback, both on this site and on tumblr!
Plenty of you said you were eager for Hermione's training- which is the entirety of this chapter. I did as much research as I could, but of course, if you find something inaccurate, let me know.
Enjoy!
Chapter 3
"Enter." Dumbledore intoned, pulling a grandfatherly, yet serious smile onto his face. He was wearing unusually subdued robes, doing his best to look the part of earnest, your-wellbeing-is-at-the-front-of-my-mind, grandfatherly Headmaster.
The door creaked open, and the girl walked in. He appraised the way she walked, timid in the face of authority, eyes wide as she took in the magnitude of books and interesting instruments scattered around the room. She was nothing much to look at- a riotous mass of bushy brown curls, a stubborn chin, and intelligent brown eyes. Her current expression was awe- exactly what the Headmaster wanted it to be.
"Miss Granger," he said warmly. "Please, sit. Would you like a lemon drop?" She dropped into the seat he waved at, but shook her head at the candy.
"No, thank you," she said, blushing faintly. "Sugar is quite bad for the teeth." Her blush deepened, and she ducked her head.
The comment stumped Dumbledore for a moment until he remembered that her parents were Muggle tooth-Healers. Well. Normally, his lemon drops were laced with very light traces of a Calming potion, very useful when dealing with distraught teachers and politicians, or even the occasional rowdy student. He had planned…
But he shook off the change in plan, and tucked the candy away. "Do you know why I called you here, Miss Granger?" he asked. He assumed she would say something about test scores or grades, but he was surprised once again.
"Harry," she replied immediately, head rising to meet his eyes. "It has to do with Harry Potter." She looked straight at him, eyes narrowed slightly. "He is my best friend," she said slowly, "Which makes a slight bit of trouble for you."
"Quite the opposite, actually," Dumbledore countered. "But yes, Harry is the reason we are here on this fine morning." Why would it be a problem for her to be a friend of Harry's?
Just then, Severus entered the room, as dramatic as ever with his robes billowing and a scowl on his face. "I was busy, Headmaster," he drawled. "But I am here now, so can we please make this quick?" His eyes darted to where Hermione sat, hands folded in her lap and different set on her face- one that Severus recognized as confusion. It was not an expression she wore often, and the fact that she was wearing it now told Severus everything he needed to know about the course of the meeting.
"Professor Snape," Dumbledore said with a smile, eyes flashing in a warning. "Just the man I wanted to see. I was just explaining to Miss Granger-"
"You haven't explained anything," Snape snapped. "Or she wouldn't be sitting here, docile as a lamb." Out of the corner of his eye he saw the girl start with indignation. He sneered.
With a huff, he turned to face her, seeing that she refused to flinch and admiring her for it. "Miss Granger," he said brusquely, "The Headmaster asked you to his office today, not to talk about your…" he let his voice trail off before adding a slight stress to his next word. "Remarkable scores. Indeed, he wants to ask you to put your life in danger by becoming a bodyguard, so to speak, for the walking trouble magnet named Potter."
She looked up at him, then at Dumbledore. "Is that true?" she asked, voice shaking. "What exactly is it you want me to do?"
Dumbledore glared at Severus, before turning his attention to the girl-child and answering her question. "Take extra classes and training over the summer, and when you are back in school. Learn defensive spells and offensive spells that can be used in situations like the ones Mr. Potter has found himself in last year and this year."
"You want me to learn extra magic so I can help Harry more if he gets into trouble?" Hermione asked, relief in her voice. "Of course I'd want to help. I've done what I can so far, but if I can learn more-"
"Don't run into this blind," Snape warned, cutting her off. "What the Headmaster isn't saying is that you will learn other techniques, such as the art of manipulation and lying." His lip curled at the shock on her face. "The Dark Lord is not truly vanquished, Miss Granger," he said smoothly. "Every day, he gets closer to returning. You cannot reveal your status to Potter or Weasley. You must learn how to defend your mind from intrusion, how to fight with or without a wand, and how to protect without seeming to protect. You must sacrifice an extraordinary reputation as to not draw attention to yourself. It is important you know that in defending Potter, you may die."
Fear was plain on Hermione's face, but she squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. "But this will help keep Harry safe?"
"Yes," Dumbledore replied before Severus had a chance to open his mouth again. "Harry is in constant danger. If you learn these things, and just stay by his side, you can make sure that no one harms our only hope."
Hermione's mouth tilted up in a kind of bitter grin. As out of place as it should have appeared on the face of a thirteen year old, it fit both the girl and the situation. "May I speak frankly, Professor?" she asked.
"Of course," Dumbledore said, fingering his wand under his desk. If she refused, she would be Obliviated. No one else could know about their conversation.
She nodded at Severus, then spoke. "I have the feeling you are feeding me a pile of dragon dung and calling it treacle tart, Professor," she said annoyance dripping into her tone even as her voice wavered. Where she could not see, Severus bit back a laugh. "I'll do it- but, but not because someone needs to defend 'our only hope.' I am always interested in learning more, but to top that, Harry is my best friend. I'd do anything to keep him safe anyway." Even though she stammered through it, she met the Headmaster's icy blue eyes and promptly blushed. "Sir."
Dumbledore's crooked nose had a set to it- it seemed like he was worried he had dangerously misjudged Miss Granger. "Very well," he said at last. "Someone will come to pick you up at your parent's house two days after the break begins. I will need that long to get you special dispensation for you to use a wand outside of the school."
The remaining days of the break passed far too slowly for Hermione- the gregarious leaner inside her was eagerly waiting the chance to learn new spells. And if she wasn't too excited about the conditioning type things Professor Snape had mentioned, she would put up with it for the chance to learn more magic.
But Hermione Granger was not a stupid girl. There had been a power play going on in that room. She knew that she had arrived there as a chess piece for something larger than she could yet understand- she was there to be manipulated into doing something for someone. She also knew that when she had made an attempt to turn the tables on the Headmaster he had not taken it well. Some of the huge tomes that Hermione had borrowed from the Library for some light reading had mentioned Obliviation. If Professor Snape had not taken her side, well, she feared that she would have woken up in her dorm with a small chunk of her memory missing.
On the last day of term, the scarlet Hogwarts Express arrived in the station with a billow of smoke and a smiling conductor. The compartments were quickly filled, and before Hermione knew it, she was hugging Harry and Ron goodbye. Her parents were waiting for her, off to the side and looking distinctly uncomfortable.
"Mum, Dad," she said politely, pasting a smile on her face and pecking her mother on the cheek. They were in the car before either one of her parents spoke.
It was her mother. That was what hurt most. "When will they be coming to take you away?" Mrs. Granger asked, voice unreadable.
"Two days," Hermione replied, forehead creasing. "Did Professor Dumbledore contact you?"
"No," said her father. "An unpleasant man with awful teeth." They just stared ahead at the road, winding unassumingly into the approaching twilight of Great Britain.
Professor Snape, she thought, nodding to herself. "Oh," was all she said. The rest of the drive passed in silence.
Professor Snape scowled at the plain white door that was currently blocking his way. He rang the doorbell briefly, listening to the charming tone play once inside the house.
The door was answered by a tall man with chestnut hair sprinkled heavily with grey. He looked at Severus blankly, recognition changing his expression for only a moment. "You're here for her?" he questioned.
"Yes," Snape said, stepping into the house when the man stepped inside. "Is she prepared?" The man just nodded.
Hermione appeared on the stairs, pulling down a heavy trunk. Severus stepped forward, catching hold of the handle before it tumbled to the ground and spilled its contents. "If school were in session that would be ten points for clumsiness, Miss Granger," he said silkily. "For the sake of the poor trunk, I will hold it when we Apparate."
She blushed, and nodded. "Do you have your wand, Miss Granger?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.
"Of course," she said. "It's in my trunk." She realized her mistake when the scowl on her Professor's face deepened.
"And that would be fifty," Severus drawled. "For if I was the Dark Wizard that my reputation portrays me as, you and your family would be dead by now, and you would have died helpless and without a fight. Retrieve it." He smirked as she bent down and hastily scrambled in her neat trunk for the precious length of wood, sighing happily when it touched her fingers.
Quickly, she closed the trunk and stood straight, grinning happily. In Muggle clothes, she looked much younger than she usually did. Her bushy hair was gathered back in a strict braid, but errant strands were already creating a halo of wisps around her head. She was at the point when she was just gangly limbs and slowly slimming face.
"I'm ready now, Professor," she said, smile fading as she glanced at her father. Severus followed the direction of her gaze. It seemed that there was some story to be told concerning her parents. He doubted she had been abused, but neglect could be as bad as a beating with some children. He had seen both in all his years as a teacher.
He glared at her. "So be it. We will do this here, as to not attract attention. Have you said your goodbyes?" She nodded, and he offered her his arm. She stared at it, confused.
"You, Miss Granger," he said snidely, "Are too young to Apparate. Even if you did try, you'd probably Splinch yourself. So, I am going to Side-Along you. That requires you holding tightly to my arm. I suggest you do so if you do not want to end up in Dublin."
She gulped and grabbed his arm, waving to her father, who nodded at her. She felt Professor Snape turn, and she was squeezed through a tight steel tube that was compressing her ribs and her hips and her lungs before she was spat out into a pleasant garden.
It was neat and green, with flowers blooming in rows and trellises hanging laden with vines and buds. There was a path, lined with stones and well kept. At the end of the path was a cottage, thatched with golden straw and as charming as a fairytale. Hermione was in love- it was exactly the kind of place she had dreamed of when she read all those fantasy books as a child.
"Come along," Snape snapped, disposition clearly unaffected by the beautiful atmosphere. He took brisk steps toward the cottage, taking her trunk and carrying it with him. "If you keep your mouth open like that flies will soon take residence." She blushed, and followed him. The flowers were beautiful, petals all in vibrant shades of various colors.
They reached the cottage, and Severus raised a fist to knock on the door, knuckles rapping on the wood in a precise pattern. A man's voice came through, rough and wary. "The pass phrase?"
"The phoenix lights the night," drawled Severus. Hermione could detect the annoyance dripping from his voice. "Let me in, Moody."
"Not so fast, Death Eater," the voice growled. "Why did Albus call you here?" Hermione looked up at the Professor, wondering where she had heard the word Death Eater before. It unsettled her, sparking a feeling of distrust. Where had she read it?
Severus clenched his fists. "To train the little bodyguard. Let me in, Mad-Eye!" Hermione shivered-the look on his face was terrible. But the door opened into a sunlit room full of carefully crafted wooden furniture and pots of flowers.
As they cautiously stepped inside the room, the door swung shut and a grizzled man appeared, limping heavily with his wooden leg and glaring at them with his one normal eye. Hermione had to bite back a gasp of fear when she saw his other eye- swiveling around in the back of his head and returning to stare right at her before returning to the inside of his skull.
"Mad-Eye Moody," Snape drawled, "Meet Hermione Granger."
The man stared at her in blatant shock, collapsing into one of the delicate wooden chairs. "This wee lass is supposed to stop your mates from eating the Boy-Who-Lived alive? Merlin help us all."
Hermione glared right back, justifiably insulted if she did say so herself. "I was asked for a reason," she said, cross. "Do you really think Professor Dumbledore would choose someone inadequate to protect Harry Potter and then tell people about it?"
Moody stared at her for a moment longer, the burst out laughing, although it sounded more like rusty gears grinding "I like her," he said between chortles. "Albus chose well." Then, fixing her with his good eye, he nodded. "And he wouldn't do something stupid like that, either," he said.
"If you are done, we need to get to the real safe house," Severus pointed out. "Where is the passage out of the illusion?" Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione pout a bit. He had to bite back a smirk- he had noticed her adoration of the idyllic cottage.
"Hold yer hippogriffs, Snape," the man said, rising with some difficulty. "I'm gettin' to it." Hermione watched curiously as Moody hobbled over to a charmingly carved wardrobe and flung open the doors.
"Just walk through," he said. "Muggleborn lass got the idea from a book she read a few years ago. Bloody good one, too."
"The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe," Hermione murmured. "Thank you, Mr. Moody," she said with a polite nod. The old man seemed nice enough, even if he had been rude to Professor Snape.
The grizzled old man gave her a predatory grin. "This ain't the last you've seen of me, girlie. I'll be around soon."
"Unfortunately," Snape drawled, inclining his head toward the wardrobe, "We need to be off. After you, Miss Granger." She smiled at Moody, then turned to determinedly walk into the array of furry coats that hung before her.
She moved forward cautiously, one hand held out in front of her, only to hit wood. She panicked, feeling around the smooth expanse for a handle of any sort. A doorknob was her reward; with a flood of relief the endless wardrobe gave way to a lit room.
She stepped forward, looking around curiously. She had emerged from a similar wardrobe, which looked quite out of place in the clean and practical room. The walls and floor were two similar shades of beige, there were no windows, and only one door. The room itself was very tiny, and housed only the wardrobe and a portrait.
From behind her, Severus stepped through the wooden doors carrying her trunk. "Come along, Miss Granger," he snapped.
"What was that?" Hermione asked, casting a wistful glance back at the wardrobe. The cottage?"
Severus scowled. "Don't get too attached, Miss Granger. It was merely an illusion." He strode ahead of her, directly to the portrait.
"Oh," Hermione said, frowning a bit and moving aside.
"Severus Snape and Hermione Granger requesting permission to enter Safe House Three," Severus said, enunciating carefully. The picture was of an old man with a huge belly packed into in a chair, walrus mustache moving with his snores. A red velvet smoking jacket was stretched tightly across his midsection, and a lit cigar was dangling precariously from his fingertips.
He jolted awake, however, when he heard Severus' voice. "Who's there?" he said, eyes darting warily. When he saw Snape, he started again. "Snape. Who's that with you?" The beady little eyes narrowed suspiciously at Hermione, who kept her face calm.
"My ward," Severus said. "Albus should have told you already that we were coming."
The painting nodded reluctantly. "He did." Slowly, the door next to him swung open, revealing a warm, welcoming room, complete with crackling fire and earth-toned armchairs.
Severus strode through the door, snapping, "Come along," when she stalled. She followed, looking at the room in wonder. In one armchair, a sandy haired man was sprawled in sleep, snoozing gently. Hermione looked up at Snape, noting the anger that clouded his features. Snape's impressive nostrils flared, and his lips were in a tight line.
"Wake up, dog," he snapped, rousing the man and earning a reproachful glance from his charge. "Miss Granger, wipe the disapproval from your face- I'm not one of your idiotic boys- and come here." She obeyed his instructions, moving into the light and warmth of the fire. In the back of her mind she wondered why it was so cold in the beginning of June, but she pushed it away.
The man opened tawny eyes, a blinked sleepily up at her, running a hand through his messy hair. His clothes were well-worn and rumpled from sleep, and the dim light from the fire showed Hermione that he had several scars on his face and hands, and that, despite his nap, he sported bruised shadows under his eyes. "Miss Granger, I am Remus Lupin. Delighted to make your acquaintance." He held out a hand, which she accepted and pumped twice.
"Hermione Granger," she said, unnecessarily since he already knew her name. "Likewise."
Snape scoffed in the background. "Mr. Lupin will be teaching you most of what you'll need to know. He will also be joining the esteemed Hogwarts faculty as next year's Defense professor." There was an extra ounce of hatred in his voice when he said that. Hermione remembered someone saying something about Snape hating Lockhart because he had gotten the Defense position. Maybe Snape hated Lupin because he had gotten the job this year?
Uncomfortably aware of the tension between the two men, Hermione smiled tightly. "Lovely," she said cheerily. "Is this where we'll be staying?"
"Just you and me, Miss Granger," Lupin replied, rising from the chair and stretching with an accompaniment of painful sounding cracks. "And Nymphadora Tonks. Severus-"
"I have to return to my other duties," Snape said stiffly. "There is a staff of two house elves and other adults will be stopping in as their busy schedules allow."
Hermione nodded, a slight panic rising from the pit of her belly to her throat. "Will you be stopping in?" Snape, as unsavory as he was, was still the only person she knew here.
"Occasionally," he said. "I must be off. I will see you in two days, Miss Granger." With a sharp nod in her direction and a glare in Lupin's, he spun on his heel and disappeared through the door.
Hermione was left standing with Remus Lupin, eyeing him warily. "Nymphadora Tonks was a seventh year Hufflepuff when I was a first year, if I remember correctly," she said cautiously. "Why is she here?"
"I'm here because I'm an Auror and I need additional training," a cheerful voice said as a shadowy figure emerged from another hallway off the sitting room. "And if I hear you call me Nymphadora ever again I will hex you to pieces in training."
Hermione stared in amazement as the girl's hair changed from bubblegum pink to an electric purple. "What should I call you then?" Hermione asked, feeling more and more out of her depth every second.
"Tonks," the Hufflepuff said confidently. "And I'm a-"
"Metamorphmagus, I know," Hermione said, smiling self-consciously. "Characterized by the ability to change various features swiftly and without the use of a wand or conscious spell."
Remus could hardly hold back his laughter as he watched the girls get to know one another. Tonks offered to demonstrate different noises as she showed Hermione to her room, and the girl gladly accepted. He could hear the sounds of Hermione's giggles grow fainter and fainter until they stopped on the second floor.
"This is your room," Tonks informed Hermione, morphing her nose to a shape more socially acceptable than a pig snout. "Mine is down the hall."
Hermione set her trunk down, and looked around the room. It was on the small side, but it had enough space for her. There was a nice writing desk, a chest of drawers, a bookshelf, a bed, a lamp, and a nightstand all in dark wood. The bed was made with a thick quilt and the tiny window showed sunlight filtering through the heavy branches of a tree.
"This is nice," Hermione said thankfully. "How long have you been here?"
"Almost four days," Tonks replied. "I finished with the first part of my Auror training last month. Then I spent a few weeks with my mum and dad, and came here." Hermione nodded, then pointed her wand at her trunk and whispered a spell. "You can do magic out of school?"
"The Headmaster got me special permission," Hermione said gravely. "Did anyone tell you why I'm going to be training with you?" I wonder how many people know?
"Harry Potter," said Tonks. "Apparently he is the strongest trouble magnet of this century. You won't believe how many times Dumbledore swore me to secrecy." Tonks rolled her eyes, a sentiment Hermione shared. "Does he really get into that much trouble?" She had a disbelieving look on her face- from what Hermione could tell, Tonks was doubtful about the validity of the stories about Harry she had heard.
"More," Hermione said wryly. "And because I usually drag myself along to all of his adventures, the Man in the Tower decided that I needed special training to keep us alive." It's not like I haven't been doing that on my own for the past two years.
"Useful," Tonks said. "I'm going to be a student/teacher/chaperone. So I get to learn plenty and I get to teach you. Win-win for both of us." She nodded at the open trunk. "Do you want help unpacking?"
"I think I know a spell that will do it for me," Hermione said, a bit absentmindedly." I've been dying to try it out." With another swish of her wand, the clothes and books in her trunk flew up, returned to their normal size, then fled to their proper places- except for a few rouge socks that tried to find a place on the bookshelf. Hermione frowned at them, and flicked her wand again.
Tonks watched, impressed. "Wow," she exclaimed, walking over to peer into the closet. "You managed to get them color coded!"
Hermione grinned self-consciously. She liked this Metamorphmagus. "The book said that for the most precision, to keep the wrist stiff."
The conversation continued as the two girls left Hermione's room and walked down to the kitchen for lunch. The rest of the house was simple, dark wood and low ceilings with wooden floors and faded flowered wallpaper. Tonks pointed out the various rooms as they came across them: training room, gym, library, sitting room.
"Welcome to Safe House Three," said Tonks. "I suspect we are somewhere in Iceland. But don't trust me on that."
By mid-July, Hermione was exhausted, exhilarated, and about three times more deadly than she had been in May.
Alastor Moody had taken her through hell and back in a refitted training room in the depths of the safe house. With the help of fear, study, and repetition, Hermione had managed to learn more than the basics of dueling. Tonks had helped there- as clumsy as she was, the Auror-in-training had an amazing repertoire of spells that she gladly imparted to Hermione. She had yet to beat either of them, but even at thirteen, Hermione was a fast learner who had no qualms about fighting dirty. (Well, at first she had qualms, but Moody had gotten rid of those quickly. Very quickly.)
Moody had also been in charge of physical conditioning- something both Hermione and Tonks had started out detesting. However, while Tonks still hated all the running, Hermione was pleasantly surprised to find that she was starting to enjoy exercise. That still didn't mean she jumped with joy when Moody announced the obstacle course or sparring, but she didn't walk into the gym with the fear and queasy anticipation she once did.
Kingsley Shacklebolt, a rising star in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, stopped by every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday to teach martial arts, the clever details of Magical Law Enforcement, and a variety of spells taught mainly to Aurors. As a tall, ebony, and principled man in the Ministry, Kingsley stuck out like a sore thumb. Adding to the fact he had only arrived in England a few years ago, Kinsley was the perfect tutor for the twists and turns of the law in Magical Britain- he saw all the irregularities and was able to explain them to Hermione.
Andromeda Tonks was also a frequent visitor, to both the delight and horror of Tonks- Andromeda was supposed to be teaching them poise, manners, how to lie, and the art of manipulation. According to Tonks, her mother had tried to teach her all these things for years, with no visible success. Hermione however, took to them like a fish to water. She could see how surprised Tonks was at this- but Hermione was a good liar, had some memories of grace- like many other girls her age, she had been forced into ballet for a few years when she was younger. (At least until all the frilly pink tutus vanished mysteriously overnight in a move that no one could blame on Hermione but everyone did anyway.)
Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and the soon-to-be Professor Lupin were all tutoring her in third, fourth, and even fifth year spells, and how to use their fields of study in defense of another person. Lupin had no problem with Hermione guarding Harry- but it was clear to the girl that both McGonagall and Flitwick were there and teaching her under duress. It was not that they did not want to teach her- they were all proud of her progress. It was just that they were loath to see their best student get hurt protecting someone else. But Hermione persevered, nightmares of giant snakes eating Harry giving her all the motivation she needed to defend the cloth dummy with everything she could dream up.
When Hermione had discovered Lupin's lycanthropy, she had been scared for about half an hour before she decided to ask him about it. After a long explanation and discussion, Hermione had privately decided that he was a better man than most, and she didn't care if he turned into a ravening wolf once a month. She was enraged on his behalf when he told her about all the anti-werewolf legislation that had been passed preventing him from procuring employment. Her reaction had endeared her to the professor and after that they spent many evenings playing chess and discussing various discriminatory laws (and fiction books).
But Hermione's favorite teacher- to her surprise- was Snape. Although they spent time on Potions briefly, he was the one who gave her three knives and briskly ordered her to throw them at a target every day until she could consistently hit the target. And once she could hit the target, he charmed it to float in slow random patterns. Then it floated faster, grew smaller, and decided to disappear and reappear randomly. And once she could hit those, he showed her forms to practice every day, evaluating her progress and drawling helpful bits of advice and biting criticism.
Occlumency and, to a lesser extent, Legilimency, were also taught to her by the dour Potions Master. He gave her books, then swooped in once a week at various times, called for a lesson, gave her a moment to steel herself, and then delved into her mind.
She was improving, slowly but surely. Now she could keep him out of her mind for long and longer periods of time, and she could deflect a simple probe quickly. Snape was also teaching her the art of creating fake memories to line the surface of her mental barriers, hiding the barriers under the casual thoughts and memories of a very boring schoolgirl.
Although she had been wary of him at first, after a few weeks she discovered that, outside Hogwarts, Snape was less… nasty. Instead of snapping, he ordered brusquely. Rather than make a cruel joke, he used his wit to make an acerbic valid comment. He was more relaxed as well, and actually asked her opinion on various topics. Over time, she grew bolder with him, making comments of her own. Once or twice, she could have sworn she saw him crack a smile or two before he blinked and it disappeared.
Hermione was flourishing in Safe House Three. She had grown at least an inch, and was becoming rather fit thanks to Moody and Kingsley. Minny and Dobby, the house elf Harry had freed the year before, (Hermione had been very against the entire idea of a house elf until she had, under Snape's snarling directive, talked with both Dobby and Minny for a few hours one rare free afternoon), kept the inhabitants of the house well fed and comfortable.
Hermione was growing to be a rather formidable teenager.
And she liked it.
"Granger!" barked Moody. "Potter is now dead. Dead. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" The old Auror was shouting, but Hermione was more than accustomed to it by now. Her examination of the body of the cloth dummy continued without even a flinch- how had they gotten around her defenses?
Moody had come at her from the front, and Tonks from the side. She had been given a very valuable wall at her back. So how had they gotten to him? She was fine- but the dummy had a daunting hole in the front of his chest. "What spell did you use?"
The next time, she would get it right.
"Have you been doing the exercises I gave you to keep limber?" asked Snape brusquely, staring down his nose at Hermione.
She nodded. "Yes, sir," she answered. "Once or twice every day."
He considered her for a moment, then shrugged off his black teaching robes that he wore, even in the full heat of summer. Underneath he was wearing a white button down shirt and black slacks. While Hermione tried not to stare (he wears white?) he rolled up his sleeves, and from his sheaths somewhere (he was fast) he pulled two knives.
"Today, Miss Granger," drawled the Potions Master, a small grin on his face, "We shall spar."
Hermione gulped. "Fight, sir? But-"
"But nothing, Miss Granger," Severus snapped. "Get your knives. Will you be able to move quickly in those clothes?"
Her knives were located in sheaths on the small of her back. She slid them out, feeling their heft in her palms. She could feel the thump of her heart in her ribs, but she tried to push it away. "Yes, sir."
"Do you know why I'm teaching you to fight with knives?" Severus asked brusquely.
Hermione frowned at him. "Um- it might be good from a distance?" she offered.
Snape shook his head. "No. Witches and wizards use their wands and their wands alone - they rarely even consider the possibility that an opponent would offer any kind of physical offensive. The most important trick in any dangerous situation is always to have something up your sleeve - and with knives, you can have many surprises hidden on your body. You may be disarmed and lose your wand, but you will always have a Plan B."
For a moment, Hermione considered this information. "But - you've just had me throwing knives all summer!"
The man scowled at her. "Fine. It may come in handy one day. But, for all I've taught you about throwing knives, never do this in a combat situation. Why, Miss Granger?" He began stretching, and she followed his lead.
Her first answer felt obvious, but she said it anyway. "Because you lose a knife?"
"Yes. In a high adrenaline situation, you will probably miss. And now you just thrown away your weapon. There are two basic grips when fighting- hammer, which is what you use for slashing and blocking. This other one- no, here, Miss Granger- is used for stabbing." He demonstrated both, and she watched carefully. "You can throw knives only if you have more than five on you, do you understand? Knife throwing is good from a distance, and if you only have a few people you need to take out."
Hermione nodded her understanding. "How do you actually fight with knives, though?"
He regarded her, in a manner that made her feel as if she had asked a particularly stupid question. Merlin, I must sound so ridiculous to him. "First rule: if you only have one knife, keep it in your forward and primary hand. That is not what we will be starting with- although I hope to have you proficient in fighting with two knives as well as with only one knife by the end of the summer. Note that I said proficient, Miss Granger, not perfect. This takes time and discipline to learn."
"Of course," she answered automatically.
Snape finished stretched and held out a hand. "Your knives. I'm going to be casting a charm that will effectively create a barrier to dull the knife. I will do this in the beginning, so no one loses anything important. However, as you become more adapt at fighting, I will stop applying the charm. The first thing you must expect in a fight with knives, Miss Granger, is to get cut. This isn't clean and simple- you must learn how to fight on after you have been cut, and we will be practicing scenarios where you have lost essential function in one or more of you limbs."
That made Hermione shiver a bit. "Alright." She accepted her knives, testing the blade gently. Like the professor had said, it was now dull.
"When you fight, do not forget that the knife is not your only weapon," he instructed. "You have legs, elbows, and feet. Use them to try and hit your opponent, to trip them up, to bring them down. Never follow blade with your eyes, especially if you are fighting a witch or wizard. Although knife fighting is not exactly common in the Wizarding World, those who do fight with knives know how to do it, and they also know how to cast a Mesmer over the blade. Blades are shiny, they glint, and are therefore a perfect subject for a Mesmer. You fall into a trance, and your enemy slits your throat."
He stood in front of her, and held up his knives. Hermione copied his position. "What do I watch, then?" she asked.
"Their body, specifically their chest and their shoulders," he told her. "Watch." Slowly he moved his knife in a slashing motion. "My movement is visible in my shoulders and my chest. But you must be careful if they are also fighting you with their legs. To a point, movement of the lower body is evident in the torso." He demonstrated a few different moves. "Now you are going to do form one. I will be your opponent."
The forms consisted of different motions- stepping and slashing, turning and blocking then stabbing. The later ones had kicking and punching as well, but the first was the most basic, fighting only one 'opponent.' Hermione began the motions of the first form, a blocking motion with her right hand.
Severus bore down on her, and she brushed away his knife by knocking his arm away with her forearm. She took a step forward, the next move, and brought her knife down in a diagonal slash. Severus had fluidly moved out of the way, and was now on her right. The next movement was another block, and after that another slash.
"During a real fight, you are not going to want to slash someone as much as stab them," Severus told her, moving away from another slash. "Slashing creates a cut, which makes them bleed. It is an inconvenience, a painful one, but they can fight through it. If you are fighting for someone's life, you want to go in for a kill. Stabbing hurts more, although it takes strength to pull the knife out of stab. When slashing, go for exposed areas."
They went through all the forms that morning, stopping to break at lunch. Hermione was sweating dreadfully, the wisps that had escaped from her braid sticking to her forehead in clumps. She was hot, tired, and frustrated. I'm pretty bad at this, she thought dejectedly. How am I supposed to learn knife fighting? The forms weren't that hard, but once you have someone you are actually trying to fight…
Snape, on the other hand, still looked calm and collected. He sipped from a tall glass of water, watching something out the window. "Are you ready to resume, Miss Granger?" he asked.
Hermione sighed. "Yes, sir."
"How is Miss Granger doing at the Safe House? Are Nymphadora and Remus enough company for her?" Dumbledore asked, walking with Severus through the silent corridors of Hogwarts. The school had no sound but Dumbledore's voice to echo, both men moving almost soundlessly.
Severus sneered, his response to almost all of Dumbledore's questions. "As well as can be expected for a thirteen-year-old training to become a body guard for an imbecile." Dumbledore was quiet for far longer than Severus could stand. He gave in with a harsh exhalation, and elaborated as the Headmaster had clearly been expecting. "She can throw knives with adequate accuracy. I suspect the indefatigable erudite inside the bushy haired chipmunk has transferred adoration of books into a thirst for knowledge of a different sort. She is excelling in all her 'classes.' Mrs. Tonks has trained her to the point that she can lie to my face and I can barely detect it with Legilimency. If she so wished, she could join Draco for dinner at Malfoy Manor and fit in almost perfectly. The werewolf and the other esteemed Professors of this school have advanced her magical training by years. Shacklebolt tells me that she is becoming as wily as a politician but has yet to beat him using her bare hands. I suspect it's due to her size- the girl is tiny, but has yet to learn to use her height to her advantage. She was not as miserable at fighting as I expected. She is improving greatly, and practicing of her own will. The girl has moved on to fighting without prescripted movements, which was terribly difficult for her. She does not do well on her own imagination, although we are working to change that."
The two continued to sit in silence. "Sirius Black has escaped Azkaban, Severus," Albus Dumbledore said finally. "Harry Potter will be in great danger this year."
The curses of the Potions Master would have burned the ears off Sirius Black if the escaped (never convicted) convict had been in hearing range.
And so ends Chapter Three. Chapter Four will consist of most of third year- I had to split third year into about a chapter and half.
Chapter Four will be up next Friday, as usual.
Question: If this story is going to be M later, should I make change the rating now, or leave it at T until it gets to that point?