Chapter 12
Blood-traitor
Hermione awoke to bright sunlight, filtered to a burnt orange color by the black fabric of her giant hat. She crawled under the brim and discovered that she was the only one in the room. She checked her watch and saw she'd slept until ten o'clock, likely missing breakfast. Hermione got dressed, and thought about how she wanted to spend her weekend.
She guessed many students would be out enjoying some of the last warm weather of the year, so she decided to grab a few bottles of ink and do the same. Twenty minutes later, she walked through the main castle doors, across the courtyard, and out onto the gently sloping lawn that led down to the edge of the forest and the shore of the lake. Hermione saw other students lounging or walking the grounds, but ignored them, heading first to the greenhouses and performing her mapping spell.
Hermione worked for the rest of the day, other than a small lunch break. By dinner, all of her ink bottles were empty. The castle grounds, and much of the walls were now filled in and the map looked incredible. After dinner, Hermione waited for Neville near the doors to the Great Hall, eager to show him the progress she'd made.
His eyes widened to the size of galleons when Hermione showed him the map and he said, "Is this really the same one I started?"
"Yeah, the spell I've been using can imitate your handwriting and art style. And watch this," Hermione said, tapping the map to switch to a view of the main castle's second floor.
Looking astounded, Neville leaned his face close to the parchment to read the miniscule writing and said, "I wish I'd had a bigger sheet of parchment, it's hard to make out the words."
Hermione smiled and said, "Li had the same feedback, so I figured out a solution."
She subtly pulled out her wand and whispered, "Engorgio."
The map grew a bit larger, making the writing easy to read, and Hermione excitedly continued talking as Neville gaped at the parchment, "Next, I want to add a durability charm, then make an envelope that can only be opened with a spoken password, that way I can shrink the map down to the size of a postcard, and store it in the envelope. Of course I'll add a durability charm to the envelope, and maybe find a waterproofing charm to make doubly sure it can't be ruined by ink or rain."
"Hermione…" Neville said quietly, "We've only been here a week. How did you accomplish this? Are you sure you're a muggle-born?"
This question wiped the smile off of Hermione's face, and her voice was stiff as she said, "Yes I'm sure. And why should that matter?"
Neville shook his head adamantly and said, "No, I mean, it just seems odd that you're capable of such incredible magic."
"Why is it odd?" Hermione asked sharply.
Neville, turning scarlet, said, "Well it's just… I've always heard people say that having muggle blood makes your magic weaker, but I don't believe that," he added hastily, looking uncomfortable.
"I need to head back to my common room," Hermione said abruptly, "See you later, Neville."
Neville looked distraught as he said, "Hermione, wait, I'm sorry!" But she had already turned away and begun to walk quickly towards Ravenclaw Tower.
To hold back tears, Hermione began speaking quietly to herself as she walked, "Three point one four one five nine, two six five three five eight nine, seven nine three two three eight four, six two six four three three eight."
Reciting the first one hundred digits of Pi earned Hermione last place in her grade three talent show and plenty of teasing from her peers, but she found that the act of remembering and speaking the numbers helped her block out unwanted thoughts or emotions. By the time she reached the common room, Hermione felt a little better. Not wanting to talk with anyone, she returned to her room, restored the hat and other objects to their original sizes, then climbed into bed with her notebooks and closed the curtains around her.
As she flipped aimlessly through one of her notebooks, Hermione found the slip of paper Professor McGonagall had given her with the names of other Ravenclaw muggle-borns.
"Maybe I should talk with them," Hermione thought, "Li made me think the modern view on muggle-borns had changed, but if someone as kind as Neville still has prejudices like that…well maybe it would help to talk to someone who's been through this kind of thing."
The next day, Hermione asked around until she identified the other three Ravenclaw muggle-borns. The first two students on the list, a fifth-year girl and a seventh-year boy, both dismissively informed her that they had no interest in spending time chatting with a first-year, muggle-born or otherwise. Thankfully, Tina McGowan, a third-year girl, was willing to talk.
"I'll tell you what you need to know," Tina said, after Hermione explained that she was a first-year muggle-born, looking for advice, "Watch out for Snape. He's got a nasty temper and he doesn't like muggle-borns."
Hermione nodded, smiling slightly and said, "Yeah, I figured that out actually."
Tina grinned and continued, "Another thing I wish I'd known is that no one says Voldemort's name. They call him things like 'You-know-who', or 'He-who-must-not-be-named', but if you hear someone call him 'the Dark Lord', steer clear. People like that can be… unkind."
Tina's face became grim, forehead furrowing, and her gaze growing distant. Then she closed her eyes and shook her head as if to clear it before saying, "The only other thing is, have you thought about what you'll tell your muggle friends when you get back?" A slight grin returned to her face as she said, "You won't be learning much normal history or science here, and you won't know anything about the latest bands or clothing trends. Be prepared for your friends to think you've been at a mental asylum or something."
Hermione opened her mouth to explain that she did not have any friends back home, but stopped herself, realizing how sad it would sound, instead she said, "Thanks Tina, I'll keep that in mind. Can I talk with you again sometime?"
Tina shrugged and said "Sure, us mud-bloods should stick together."
Hermione gasped, the word feeling like a slap, but Tina laughed, making a calming gesture with both hands before saying, "Relax, it's just a word. People are going to call you that, so get used to it. If we say it to each other it loses some of its sting."
"Okay," Hermione said awkwardly, not sure she agreed, "See you around Tina."
Unsettled by the conversation, Hermione went to the library and spent most of the day there. With the help of the map's incredible labels, Hermione could identify sections and subsections within the multistory labyrinth of shelves and columns. She left the library that evening with a book detailing the history of The International Statute of Secrecy.
The second week of classes proved to be slightly more challenging, and Hermione forgot about the poem. She focused on keeping up with homework, using her free time to read or work on the map.
The week's Potions classes centered on antidotes, a convoluted branch of potioneering that involved trigonometry and percentages. Hermione excelled at it, and Snape could find nothing to criticize in her classwork. He did however, loudly belittle her homework, though never for its content, which Hermione knew was correct, but for her sloppy penmanship with a quill.
Professor Flitwick taught them a charm for making a magical flame that provided warmth, but could not burn anything. Hermione mastered the spell during their first class, earning a few glares from Terry and his group of Slytherin friends.
Professor McGonagall shouted at several students who could not answer her questions during their lecture hall class, and then confiscated Seamus Finnigan's wand in the middle of Thursday's practical lesson. They were still working on turning matches into needles, but Seamus accidentally tapped his finger instead, turning it into a metal dagger. It bled profusely where flesh became steel, and McGonagall escorted him to the Hospital wing on the third floor.
Friday started with a few miserable hours of double Potions, followed by double History of Magic. By the end of the day, Hermione felt like cheering. She had practically finished the map, and she had two days off from classes to spend in the library.
"I also need to try some wandless magic," Hermione thought as she made her way back towards Ravenclaw Tower, "And maybe I should try making another original spell."
When she reached the door with no handle, the bronze eagle's new riddle took her by surprise, taking her mind off of her weekend plans, "I weigh almost nothing, and cannot be seen, but I'm there in each word and each time that you sing, No matter how big, no matter how strong, if you hold me for an hour, something is wrong."
Hermione quickly answered, "Breath," and the door swung open.
The new question from the eagle brought on thoughts of the poem, Rowena's room, and Madam Pince. Hermione went to her study spot by the window near the top of the tower. She opened one of her notebooks to the poem she'd copied off the wall at the top of the staircase on which she sat.
"I've mapped the astronomy tower," Hermione thought, "But there's nothing of note."
She pulled out her copy of 'Hogwarts a History', looking for references to the castle's towers, but found nothing helpful.
After reading through the poem for what she guessed was the hundredth time, Hermione considered, "I still haven't mapped Gryffindor Tower, maybe my guess was right, and that's the tower being referenced. It would fit with the first few lines. Is the poem directing me to the other three houses' common rooms? I could easily imagine the Slytherins living in the basement… but then what about Hufflepuff?"
Hermione read the sixth line of the poem out loud, "Then seek a place of warmth, Filled with smells so fine."
Something clicked in her mind, and she remembered catching a whiff of baking bread on the fifth floor. She cast her Blueprint Charm on the map and then tapped the main castle building a few times and examined each level. The Great Hall's vaulted ceiling was several stories high and her map included it when displaying floors one through four. Hermione tapped the map again, switching to a view of the fifth floor.
She had mapped most of this level, but a section directly above the Great Hall remained stubbornly blank. While researching books on magical cartography, Hermione had come across the word 'unplottable', a term for locations magically protected from being mapped. She guessed that this part of the castle was, for some reason, unplottable.
Hermione grew excited as she speculated, "Hufflepuff's common room could be near the kitchens, which must be on the fifth floor. That's how they know when to refill plates and pitchers, someone must be observing the Great Hall and teleporting food in from above."
She read the poem yet again, viewing it through the lense of her new theory and realized, "I might need help getting into the other common rooms, the poem specifically says three doors will be 'forever locked once a student has been sorted, and I'm sure they have some kind of password too. Maybe I can find a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor that would help me, but I doubt there's a Slytherin who'd be willing to do me any favors."
Despite their awkward conversation from the week before, Hermione decided she wanted to ask Neville about helping her get into Gryffindor Tower.
"After all," Hermione thought grudgingly, "It's just the environment he was raised in, he obviously isn't a blood supremacist."
A package from her parents arrived during dinner with twenty pens, a pack of five pencils, and three packs of highlighters. It was less than Hermione had hoped for, but she also wasn't sure how much she could sell. Li had only found one person wanting to buy a pen the week before, and Hermione had already spent those sickles on more ink for the map.
Looking at the box of writing supplies, Hermione was reminded that the problem of tuition was more important than the mystery of Rowena's room or her magical projects. Even if she could solve the puzzle, there would need to be a treasure chest full of gold behind that wall to pay her next six years' tuition.
"Come to think of it," Hermione thought as she finished her dinner, "I don't even know how much tuition costs, I'll need to look into that and how to convert galleons to pounds."
The weekend seemed to speed by, and most of the first-years grumbled through the start of their third week of classes, some of the novelty having worn off. Other than a few snide comments from Snape about Justin Finch-Fletchley's ignorance, the first three classes of the day passed uneventfully.
Hermione still had not discussed Gryffindor Tower with Neville, but she planned to ask him about it during study hall. When they reached the third floor of the library, Hermione sat beside Neville, but before she could broach the topic, a familiar figure in purple robes shuffled up beside their table.
Madam Pince did not look at Hermione, instead speaking in her squeaky whisper to the seventh-year supervising them, "Hedley, I need a hand with something. Can I borrow one of your students for a few minutes?"
Hedley, a Hufflepuff boy, put his magazine down, sat up nervously and said, "Um, of course. Anything else I can do for you?"
Madam Pince smiled sweetly at the tall boy, "No, no. That will be all," then she looked down at Hermione and said, "Ms. Granger, come with me."
The nearby first-years watched as Hermione stood and followed the elderly librarian away from the study area. Hermione felt her shoulders lift up and touch her ears, the extra attention making her uncomfortable. She followed Madam Pince down a few flights of stairs to the library's ground floor. She then led Hermione into an office tucked behind the checkout counter.
A plaque on the office door read, 'Head Librarian Pince', making Hermione think, "No wonder Hedley was so nervous, she's his boss."
Pince sat at a desk cluttered with a mixture of loose papers, quills, ink bottles, and owl castings. Hermione spotted two other chairs in the room but one was occupied with a tall stack of books, the other laden with a teapot and many half drunk cups of tea so she decided to remain standing. Her hands shook slightly, so Hermione put them in her pockets to cover her nervousness.
Fighting through her anxiety, Hermione asked, "What is it you need my help with, Professor?"
"I'm no Professor, not anymore," Pince said, waving a hand dismissively, "I just wanted to check in with you about your progress."
After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Hermione said, "Do you mean progress on making my own spells or on the poem?"
It was hard to think, the room felt stuffy, and Hermione began to sweat.
The corners of Madam Pince's lips turned up slightly in a small smile and she clarified, "I would be interested to discuss both topics, but let us start with your spellwork. Did you manage to create the spell you needed?"
Hermione nodded in affirmation, but fear and confusion clouded her mind, a terrified buzzing that felt louder than her own thoughts. A bead of sweat ran down her cheek, and when she moved to wipe it away, Hermione realized her right hand was clenched tightly around her wand. She released it, and immediately the feelings of fear and anxiety decreased in intensity.
"It's my wand," Hermione thought as she wiped her brow and cleared her throat, "I think it is frightened by this woman for some reason. I felt this strange fear before when talking with her, but I wasn't sure where it came from."
The shock of this realization seemed to sharpen Hermione's mind, and she took a deep, steadying breath. The air in the room felt cooler and less thick. Hermione felt as though she'd been feverish, then sudden lucidity had returned.
"It wasn't just my wand," she thought with shock, her brain processing faster, "This is like when I met Ollivander. He did something to keep me from asking questions or reasoning properly, and I think his sister might be doing the same thing."
Making eye contact with Madam Pince, Hermione spoke in a crisp, direct tone, "Before I tell you anything, I would like to know if you are using some sort of mind control magic on me."
The old woman's eyebrows raised in mild surprise and she said, "It's called Legilimency, not mind control, that's muggle nonsense. I am rather impressed that you noticed, and I'm even more impressed that you seem to have found a way to block out my influence."
Glancing down, and silently directing her gratitude towards the wand in her pocket, Hermione thought, "I had some help, thank you."
Outloud, Hermione said, "Whatever you call it, it's rude."
Madam Pince tilted her head in acknowledgment and said, "Very well, I apologize."
"What is Legilimency, and why did you use it on me?" Hermione asked, then immediately followed up with another question, "And is that how you knew I'd found the poem, or were you just guessing?"
With a sigh, Madam Pince pulled out her wand and gave it a small flick. Responding to a gut instinct, Hermione took a pair of stumbling steps backwards while pulling her wand from her pocket, then holding it out before her defensively. With her hand again in contact with her wand, the buzz of fear returned, making her heart race wildly. However, no spell flew at Hermione. Instead, a simple chair appeared between her and the desk, settling down onto a rug littered with balled up pieces of parchment.
Hermione sheepishly wondered, "What was I thinking? A teacher isn't just going to start attacking students, and even if she had tried to jinx me, what good would pulling out my wand do? I don't even know how to block spells."
Pince looked at her with raised eyebrows and Hermione put her wand away, the feeling of fear diminishing as she released it. She sat down on the summoned chair, cheeks pink with embarrassment at her reaction.
"Why do you have such hostility towards me Miss Granger?" Madam Pince asked politely, no offense evident in her tone.
Hermione hesitated, trying to make sense of her own actions, then she said, "It's not me that has an issue with you… but I think my wand finds you terrifying."
A series of facial expressions flashed across Madam Pince's face. First was extreme shock, her jaw dropping slightly, mouth open in a little 'O'. Next, her eyes twinkled with excitement, mouth curving into a sly grin. After that, Hermione spotted a flash of concern on the librarian's wrinkled face. It only lasted for the briefest of moments, but Hermione distinctly saw Pince's eyebrows drawing together, her grin fading, and her blue eyes exuding a motherly worry. Finally, she restored her face to a calm, neutral state, interlocking her fingers and looking over her glasses at Hermione.
"I would love to know more about the bond you're developing with your wand," Madam Pince began, "but first, let me answer your questions from before. Using Legilimency has become second nature to me. I use it on most people I talk with to avoid tiresome conversations. It allows me a small bit of influence over what a mind focuses on, and I can also get a sense for surface level information. When I talked with you about Rowena's room, the poem was the first thing that came to your mind."
Hermione contemplated this before shaking her head and saying, "I'm not sure I can trust you. I can still feel my wand sending off waves of fear, and knowing you can read my thoughts is unsettling."
"I cannot read your thoughts, child," Madam Pince explained with a note of reprimand in her voice, "Muggles have always feared our kind. In their stories, they greatly exaggerate the strength of mind altering magic. Conscious thought and memories are nebulous, fleeting concepts that are never still, making them difficult to decipher. Peering into another's mind is like trying to look into a deep lake. The surface of the water constantly shifts with waves and ripples, obstructing views of the depths below."
"Fine," Hermione snapped, feeling her temper rising, "But what do you want from me?
Pince shrugged her shoulders and said,
"I want nothing from you. My interest in you stems from your magical potential. I have seen several generations of students pass through the halls of Hogwarts, and in all that time, I have noticed only a handful of witches or wizards with your natural talent. I recommend that book on Rowena to all clever Ravenclaw girls I meet in the hopes that it pushes them to explore physically as well as magically, and when I learned of your intuitive nature from my brother, I made sure to introduce you to the art of crafting spells."
Hermione said nothing for a minute, mulling over Madam Pince's words. She still felt suspicious of the elderly librarian, but she couldn't tell how much of that was due to her wand's influence. With an effort of will, she pushed back against the fear emanating from her wand. It worked, the stick of wood responding to her mental command like a growling dog quieted by a gentle touch from its master.
"I think I've figured out most of the poem," Hermione said cautiously, "And I have a plan to take the next step. I'm fairly certain I know where to go next."
"Do you know what it is you're seeking?" Madam Pince inquired.
Hermione shook her head and said, "The part that says, 'Return here once again, if you possess the spine', makes it seem like I'm searching for a book, but I'm not sure, it could be using the word 'spine' as a stand-in for 'courage'."
Madam Pince nodded and said, "Seems like you're on the right track."
Before Pince could say anything else, Hermione asked, "Why do you think my wand is frightened of you?"
The older woman laughed and the toothy grin that lit up her face made her appear suddenly more youthful.
"I assume you have discovered the Wizarding world's obsession with bloodlines," Pince said, shaking her head disapprovingly, "A family's value is determined, not by their power or skill, but by the supposed purity of their family tree. This focus has weakened the magical community, leading to stagnation. Within the Wizarding world, there are a select few, like myself, born with more than average magical power. I would guess that your wand can sense my strength and finds it threatening."
"Do other people's wands give them the same sense of fear around you?" Hermione asked.
"Occasionally," Madam Pince explained, "but not to the degree you seem to be experiencing. I believe you have developed a deep connection to your wand, allowing it to communicate more directly with you. This is due to your own strength. Have you noticed a difference between your spells and those of your classmates?"
A memory of levitating her pillow through the hoops in Charms came to mind, and Hermione said, "I have noticed a difference. After I made my first spell, I started theorizing that my lack of exposure to Wizarding culture keeps me from subconsciously limiting my potential."
Pince nodded, "That is one contributing factor, and your lack of exposure to wands during your developmental years is another."
Hermione felt as though Madam Pince was holding back information and she prodded, "But there's something else, isn't there? Something other than being raised in the muggle world that makes me different."
"Yes," Madam Pince said solemnly, frowning slightly, "But let us move on for now, I would be happy to discuss this with you more another time."
Hermione wanted to disagree, but decided not to argue, thinking, "At least she's not manipulating my mind anymore, I can wait to get more answers."
"Before I send you back to your class, would you demonstrate one of the spells you've managed to create?" Madam Pince asked.
Hermione picked up a scrap of paper from the floor and held it between two fingers. With her other hand she waved her wand and said, "Origamus Aquilos!"
The paper folded into the shape of an eagle, and Hermione sat it on the desk in front of Madam Pince.
The older woman smiled and said, "Lovely work, thank you. I look forward to our next meeting."
Recognizing this as a dismissal, Hermione stood and left the office. She returned to the third floor, and the assistant librarian, Hedley, made no comment as she slid back into her seat beside Neville. She did not speak to him at first, lost in thought, replaying her conversation with the head librarian.
When Hedley dismissed them, Hermione turned to Neville and said, "Hey, can we talk?"
"Sure," Neville said uncomfortably, rubbing at the back of his neck, "I've been trying to work up the courage to apologize for what I said before."
Hermione waved a hand dismissively, "Don't worry about it."
Neville shook his head and continued, "No, it was a terrible thing to say. I've just heard things like that my whole life and it wasn't until I met you that I realized they weren't true."
"I know that you didn't mean it like that. I got upset because it reminded me that Wizarding society looks down on people like me. Spending time with you and Li makes me forget because you both treat me like equals."
Neville let out a small laugh and said, "Equals? Not even close. You're one of the best in our year, and I'm close to the worst."
"I think you just need more confidence in yourself," Hermione said consolingly.
Neville shrugged, appearing unconvinced.
"Anyways," Hermione continued, "I wanted to ask for your help again."
"Another project like the map?" Neville asked, sounding excited.
"Uh, no. Something different," Hermione answered vaguely, glancing around.
She saw no one nearby, and decided to just say what she was thinking, "I want you to help me get into Gryffindor Tower."
The look of bewilderment on Neville's face was so over the top that it made Hermione giggle, driving away the remaining tension she still felt after talking with Madam Pince.
"I don't think that's allowed, we'd get into trouble," Neville whispered, looking around to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation just as Hermione had done moments before.
"I know it's against the rules," Hermione replied, still smiling at the look on Neville's face, "But think about it ok? It doesn't have to be anytime soon."
They talked for a few minutes and Neville agreed to consider her plan, but he made no promises. Once outside, Hermione spotted Terry Boot, Parvati Patil, Seamus Finnigan, and a few Slytherins standing in a group nearby. She tried to ignore them, though she thought she could feel their eyes on her.
"I'm heading back to my common room, see you Hermione," Neville said brightly.
Hermione waved and said, "See you later, Neville."
As she walked away, she heard a girl's voice say, "Hey Longbottom, is that your girlfriend?"
Turning to look back, Hermione saw that Parvati and Seamus had stepped in front of Neville as he tried to pass the group of first-years.
"Yeah, you going out with Mrs. Buck-teeth?" Seamus added, grinning down at Neville.
Clearly uncomfortable, Neville muttered something Hermione couldn't hear.
Terry spoke next, "Just friends huh? Well good. You can do better than her."
Neville said something else and the entire group laughed.
"Better than all of us, is she?" Terry asked, taking a step towards Neville, "Spoken like a true blood-traitor."
Then he punched Neville in the stomach, dropping him to his knees.
Hermione ran forward, shouting, "Stop it!"
The other first years looked a bit surprised by what Terry had done, and they hurried off guiltily, leaving Terry alone standing over Neville, hand still clenched into a fist. Hermione continued to rush forward, pulling out her wand as she closed the distance.
When she reached the boys, she pointed her want threateningly towards Terry and angrily said, "Back off!"
Terry had a haunted, faraway look in his eyes as he turned his gaze on Hermione and, for a moment, she thought he appeared horrified with what he'd done. Then he seemed to focus, a familiar sneer reappearing on his face.
"Look, your girlfriend is here to save you Longbottom," Terry said with a forced chuckle, "The mud-blood and the blood-traitor, what a cute couple."
Terry turned his back on them and began to walk away. Anger flared in Hermione's chest and she lifted her wand, not sure of what she was about to do, but knowing she wanted to hurt the smirking boy.
Before she could send an angry, formless spell towards Terry, Neville stood, coughing, and in an out-of-breath voice said, "Don't Hermione. He's… He's not worth it."
"I quite agree," said a quiet, jovial voice from directly behind them.
Surprised, and with adrenaline still pumping through her veins, Hermione spun, raising her wand again, ready to lash out with magic. Then she froze, because her wand's tip was now pointed, not at another first-year student, but at the long silver beard of Hogwarts Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.