There are few things more dishonorable than
misleading the young.
- Thomas Sowell
The Honor System/A Waking Dream
You could tell it was exams time by the amount of books lying on the floor of the Slytherin common room, all open to various pages. It was getting late in the evening and the number of students was increasing, each with questions to ask older students. It was a busy scene. In the midst of it all was a huddled group of first years crinkling their eyebrows over the Transfiguration text.
"I just wish I knew what we were doing," Ian whispered to Carla, "It's so aggravating, you know?
Ellen cut them off, "I'm trying to memorize the correspondences charts, do you mind?"
"Didn't you say that you were going over those with Professor Snape last month?" Carla looked up from instructions on how to change a comb into a toupee.
"Yeah, well," Ellen closed her book, "There was a change of plans." She looked over at her two friends, "You think that you can break an exterior…no, I was only an inconvenience. I mean, really, I'm a silly little first year who thought that the teachers actually cared." Ellen grabbed another book, "Anyone want to take a walk and study astronomy?"
Without a response, she pulled herself up to her feet, and walked out the door.
The campus was quiet. There were a few others outside with light charms reading books, and a few staring at the sky. The grasses welcomed Ellen with its yielding ways, and she settled, face up watching the night sky. She chanted softly, "Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, Draco, Cepheus, Cassiopeia, Andromeda, Pegasus--" memorizing the star chart for the Northern Hemisphere, until she ran out of winter constellations, and began on the summer. Repeating them over and over in an endless dance of the heavens, she ignored everything around her. Hours passed in the silence of the grass and sky, broken only by her whispers.
It hadn't felt very long when the Head Boy had knelt down by her side, and spoke loudly, "It's not right to be out this late, kiddo."
Ellen sat up with a start, "I'm sorry, Cato" she looked around, noticing that the rest of the students had left the great outdoors to study their pillows instead, "I—"
"Got involved in Astronomy?" the seventh-year smiled, "I did the same thing my first year."
"Did it work?"
"Well, I'm here now," Cato grabbed Ellens hand to help her up,"In fact I think the Head Girl busted me." Cato was a well-liked Ravenclaw, eager to go into a political career. He was one of the types that proved that the ambitious weren't always placed in Slytherin.
"Who was Head Girl then?" Ellen asked, her natural curiosity getting the better of herself.
"The current Professor Granger, if I can remember correctly. She'd probably get mad if I called her Hermione. Now, kiddo, go back to your House and I won't take points off."
"Sure thing," she grinned, and quietly turned away.
Cato watched her walk back, and then turned around, "I know you're watching. Come out."
"Who, me?" the voice took offense as the rest of him walked out of the shadows, "Merlin, I thought you'd never say anything."
"Yes, you Jeremiah. I don't know what your interest with that girl is, but it can't be right," Cato scowled at the confident fourth-year, "5 points off Hufflepuff for being out this late."
"Fine. I'll add it to the collection."
"And I'm taking you back to your House, so I can guarantee that there's no trouble from you." Cato added quickly. The first time he told Jeremiah to go back to his House that year, he'd been met the next day with an inappropriately transfigured Potions book, which had most definitely not gone over well with Professor Snape.
In the dark, the moonlight shined down on the two boys, the younger nearly matching the older in height. The look on his face betrayed his light voice and his lack of years.
He walked with the confidence of a prince, something Cato had noticed at the beginning of the year, a swagger that just meant, I own this place, and everything within it. It chilled Cato to the inner depths of his Head Boy body. The younger boy reached his House, mumbled his password and gave Cato a most unwelcome glance before entering.
Hermione was in the midst of finishing the sixth-years exams for Muggle Studies. It was 3 am, but a night that she fell asleep without the aide of a potion was rare these days. There had been one a week or so ago, after taking a run for most of the early evening hours and now frustrated herself over a question she wanted to ask but couldn't word it right.
She put down her quill, and produced the correct amount of duplicating charms on the exams. The deepness of the night stared at her from her window, and begged her to join the grass outside. She followed, her nightly ritual dragging her forward. A walk to clear her head, enabling her to get an hour of blissful sleep was what she needed.
Only a few more days and she could try to get some sleep in her parents house, while searching for her own summer place. Obviously, she had to search within the Wizarding society, otherwise what would she say to future landlords?
"So what do you do for a living?" the owner would say.
"Oh, I'm a Professor at a boarding prep school," Hermione would reply.
"Anything
I should know about you?" he could say, with the look of
'she's a professor? So young' on his face.
"I've
helped save the world a dozen times, oh and can I connect the fireplace to the
Floo network?"
"Erm,
what was your name again?"
"Hermione
Granger."
"How do you spell that?" the landlord would eventually say.
Oh yes…that would really work out well.
Not that the Weasley household hadn't offered her to crash at the Burrow, or that Harry offered his inherited house. That really ooked her out. The attachment that Harry and herself had burned out after a year of being together, but they had stuck together for another year. Even after that they continued to stick with each others as friends. That was for the best, they worked much better as fiercely loyal friends than lovers. She didn't want to be stuck living in the same house again, just as it would drag up very pleasant memories that didn't need repeating.
The
night was much like every other had been since her memories has resurfaced.
Chilly, slightly damp, and hardly calming. She saw a few of her pupils sneaking
out, likely doing things she shouldn't have allowed them to do. Tonight,
she stopped caring about that. I did the
same thing a few times, did I not?
Her
walk brought her close to the Slytherin House where a figure lay on the ground.
A small one, probably a first year up late. Hermione shrugged and started to
walk over when the Head Boy appeared near there.
Good kid, Hermione smiled, keeping a tradition alive.
"Interesting, Professor Granger that you should be out so late," the voice was unmistakable coming from behind her, "Especially by my House. If I recall, you never were too fond of Slytherins."
"Amazing, Severus," Hermione answered, noting that Snapes eyes ticked a little at the very mention of his own name, "That you would even speak to a Gryffindor this late at night, and not take away House Points."
"Unfortunately I cannot take away points from my fellow teachers," he replied, "otherwise Minerva and myself would have a tidy little war on our hands."
"An' both houses would be in the negatives," Hermione smirked, "Couldn't sleep, Professor?"
As things bear out, he couldn't sleep that night. His head was racked with a thin veil of ache. Nothing that was not able to be handled, but it was absolutely impossible to sleep with. Then the prospect of catching young Hufflepuffs mid-snog appealed to him, and he walked out of his tragic-looking Dungeon rooms. When there weren't any children out, he changed his direction for an almost morning stroll.
"No, Granger, as a matter of fact, I am entranced by the moon. I am entranced by the fact that our little charges like to sneak out of their cushy houses with other little children who are then driven to frolic underneath the same moon."
"Hmm,
a very Pagan thing under the moon. Particularly the night before exams."
"I
never claimed any of my students were brilliant. Except you, of course."
Hermione
stopped in mid-stride, "I do believe you must be sick, Severus. You have
never complemented me before."
He
quickened his pace, leaving Hermione in a very befuddled wake.
"Oh
gentlemen, I really would like to hear your ideas on what we can do now,"
the Hufflepuff common room was freezing as Jeremiah spoke, "I need a
weakness we can exploit on this girl. So far she's got wonder-man Snape
on her side-"
"That
relationship has been getting shaky, at best. She's the eager one on that
side," another boy said, "Anything else? Family life?"
"Mothers a bit anal retentive, but her fathers a Hufflepuff to the core," a girl sneered, her robes marking her as a Slytherin, "But then, even the sweetest of 'Puffs can be a bit lax in where their loyalties lie, right Jeremiah?"
He
was closing her eyes, "I think it's time for some good old fashion
manipulation. We need her, we must do whatever we can to have her."
"Alienate
her from her father. Although, her father can do that on his own," the
girl responded sardonically, "He's not happy about the whole
Slytherin thing. She also discussed a Midnight Mass she went to on Christmas,
and father dearest expressed a desire for her to confess that she had wronged
her parents."
"Church? Well then, that'll do nicely, "Jeremiah grinned wickedly, "Yes, that'll do it just fine."
The morning finished arriving, and the day passed by with the sounds of moaning and groaning that accompany any well-planned exam. But the students walked in, sat down with their anti-cheating quills and parchment, unloaded their heads of all the knowledge they had supposedly learned, and promptly walked out telling each other the degree of how well or poorly they had done.
The professors on the other hand, celebrated. They were done for the year. No matter how happy the students are when the summer holidays began, teachers rejoice. The Staff Room was evident of it. Flitwick had charmed banners to read "Goodbye, Good Luck" and in smaller letters, "Here's your grades, what's your hurry?" with a little animated pupil being kicked out. Also hanging on the wall was a sheet of parchment, meant for everyone to write down where they would be during the summer. Draco: Malfoy Manor, Hooch: London, and so on. Ingrid was staying over at Hogwarts as a supervisor, and two spots were left entirely blank. Snape, as a matter of choice, was as secretive as ever. The Headmaster knew where he would be, and that was all that was needed. Hermione, just hadn't found a place yet. As sure as rain, she kept being offered places to crash, and she finally took to Harry's as a very last resort, and she promised herself that she wouldn't live on his kindness. Harry didn't want visitors, but as always, he was the type that would help his friends.
Despite the fact that he was shown no love until very late in life, he has the biggest heart. If only--
If only Ginny hadn't died.
A
year after the rather mutual breakup between Hermione and Harry, he had finally
realize there was a girl, right smack in front of him, that did carry a torch
as fiery as her hair. The Boy-Who-Lived fell deeply and madly and every other
word in love with Ginny. Nothing could express the joy on her face when he
finally came around to see the red hair girl. They clicked as a puzzle pieces should.
Hermione, was a comfortable piece, but just didn't sit right in the
puzzle. Ginny did.
And
then Ginny was dead. It was sudden.. It was Voldemorts first true strike
against Harry, and it stung, like a bastard. Harry died that night too, a
little death every time her walk was missed next to his. Cells taken off his
collective heartbeats.
Later
that year, he had expected to die at his final meeting with Voldemort. He knew
he could never get there alone. Ron was easy to talk into it. Hermione was not.
With no training besides the education she got in DADA, Hermione did not know
what to do. She had her intellect, but that could only take her so far in
battle. And what Harry proposed was a real battle, not choosing the right
bottle out of a lineup.
"Hermione,
please."
"Forget
it Harry, what good am I?" Hermione motioned quietly back, "I can
tell you what to do, but I'm not any real use."
"That's
not true. You have a quick wand, good sense, and more importantly," Harry
finished, "If you don't do this. I'm going to sit around on
my arse and write dreadful poetry. And I'll do it at your house."
Hermione
stopped dead, and let him finish babbling until she gave him the answer he
needed, "I'll do it Harry, because you'd do the mother tongue
a disservice otherwise."
The
story went on. Ron fell first, a direct wand blast that he was lucky to have
survived, and was found later by a French girl who he went nuts for later.
Hermione went down next, her own victim.
No
one knows what Harry did to destroy Voldemort. He never spoke about it, and no
one had prompted him to, the few times he awoke from his self-induced coma.
Voldemort was dead and gone, and that was the end of it. Bring on the champagne
and free-flowing Butterbeer.
Hermione left the staff party early, and downed a draught of Dreamless Sleep Potion. The next day was the End-of-Term Feast. Ravenclaw won, thanks to their brilliant seeker, and being meek the whole year. Hufflepuff, as usual, came in last, due to being too meek during the year (with a few frightening exceptions).
Ellen went back home and faced her parents. Her father hugged her, and her mother locked herself up daily in the master bedroom, except to make meals. She muttered away about how nice it would be to have a normal family, to send her child to a normal school. Her father grew roots into his library, rediscovering his old books. They woke up on Sunday mornings, dressed in their best, and went to the local Church. Taking solace into the familiar rituals and practices, Ellen walked a lot to the Church and just sat. Not being able to use her magic was boring, so she read every book she could swipe from her dad's hands (which wasn't a lot) and engrossed herself utterly into the particular magic of the written word. And she started a journal on her twelfth birthday.
"Honor is a very tricky thing. Some men claim to have honor, but they don't realize that their honor is so self-serving that it's not real honor, is ego straightforward. Professor Snape once told me that there is no such thing as redemption, only the ways we cope with our hungry lives. Of course he's not right. God redeems us. God will even redeem me for being a Slytherin, since I'm hated for it..
I don't see how I hurt the family. I don't see how Slytherin is much different from any other House. We form groups of friends and compete against other groups of friends. It's they way it has always been. I just want to do my best, and if I can achieve it by being in the so called evil house, so be it."
And during the summer, Jeremiah sat down and waited. He could be patient. The girl would come around. Her family could tend to themselves…he just had to make sure things happened. Things would happen, even if he had to tear her apart from the inside out, he'd rebuild her as the perfect tool.
She wouldn't have a clue. Ellen simply would not realize that she fell to his power. Jeremiah would be a shadow king.
A/N Only Ellen, Jeremiah and Ingrid are mine. Anything you recognize belongs to JKR.
Special thanks to my betas Em and Mike. Particularly to Mike as he encouraged me to actually come up with some reasoning behind things, like Harry's behavior, poor Ginny, the alternate title.
Other little thanks: to the Lexicon, various astronomy sites and magazines, various Latin websites (who offered my inspiration for Cato). That'll help me until my Latin classes start.
