Thanks Alix33 for your eagle-eyed correction.
And thanks to all those who reviewed. Your encouragement keeps me coming back to writing, despite all the woes with Amazon. Chapter title suggestions welcome.
Vale Robbie Coltrane, the embodiment of Hagrid.
The author acknowledges that all characters are copyright by JK Rowling
Chapter 5
The morning had gone quickly.
Despite her intention of sleeping in, Hermione was unable to get back to sleep after waking from her dream, so she continued reading Annie Price until the breakfast tray arrived at 10. It contained pumpkin scones, bacon and a still warm hollandaise sauce. It was such a welcome change from takeaway that Hermione consumed it voraciously, washing it down with sips of lukewarm tea, before getting on her way.
Downstairs, the Gryffindor Common Room was strangely deserted. Hermione supposed the students must be elsewhere in the castle, possibly studying in the library.
She set off by a back way for the Great Tower.
After revisiting Professor Vector to assure her that the headmistress had approved her appraisal of Professor Snape's journals, only to find that the house elves had already delivered them, Hermione decided to leave the clearly engrossed Arithmancy teacher to her devices. She determined to spend her last hours at the school profitably in the library, where she expected to find the studious Gryffindors.
But upon descending the grand staircase to the vestibule, Hermione found the errant students, James Potter among them, crowded about a life-size game of Wizard's chess in the vestibule. A checker board had been drawn in pink chalk on the marble floor. James was among those acting as pieces, wearing an orange Gryffindor sash and a headpiece resembling a horse, indicating his role as a knight. The headpiece reminded Hermione of Luna Lovegood's roaring lion head, which she had worn to Gryffindor Quidditch matches to great effect. Hermione wondered what had become of it. Thankfully, James's hat did not seem to neigh. He gave Hermione a cheery wave when he spotted her and was promptly reminded to stay on his square by a nearby Slytherin girl acting as a bishop.
On nearing the landing, Hermione saw that it was occupied by Scorpius Malfoy, who looked very much like his father in profile. His gaze was fixed on the chess pieces below, but when he glanced across at the opposite landing, Hermione realised his Gryffindor opponent was standing there, though Hermione did not recognise her.
Passing Scorpius as quietly as possible, so as not to disturb his concentration, Hermione had almost reached the bottom stair when Hagrid lurched passed her in the direction of the entrance. He caused absolute mayhem when he opened the front door—not the normal wizard-sized door let into the portal, but half of the giant door that was only opened in fair weather to let in the air. The nearest students turned their backs on the maelstrom that burst through the aperture and let out a collective yell that sounded like a wounded beast.
Hagrid shut the door again and turned to see what the fuss was about.
"Hagrid! You're ruining our chalk board!" yelled a tiny Gryffindor girl playing as a pawn.
"Well, I'm sorry," replied Hagrid in his deep rumble. "But I 'as to go back outside. Can't yer just fix it up once I'm gone?"
"Hagrid!" said Hermione, having a sudden thought. "Can I speak with you a moment? Perhaps I can then charm the door so you can leave without letting the rain in…"
"Of course, Hermione!" replied the gamekeeper. "But, we'll need to be quick, I has to be getting back to Tiny. He got hurt this morning and I want to make sure he hasn't chewed the bandage off while I've been away."
Hermione bit her lip. What she had to ask needed to be discussed in private.
"Perhaps we could go back to your hut, then," she suggested, rather dubiously. She supposed she could keep up a very strong shield charm for a short distance.
"Excellent!" said Hagrid. "You can hold the umbrella." And he pulled out from under his coat the ridiculous tiny pink umbrella she had seen him enter the vestibule with yesterday.
Before Hermione could protest that she did not think such an arrangement would work, Hagrid had dropped to one knee, indicating that Hermione should climb on his back. Trying not to think of the watching students, Hermione threw a quick Impervious charm on her backpack, stashed her wand and climbed up to stand on Hagrid's belt, grabbing his coat collar in one hand and the umbrella in the other. As he went to open the door, she summoned a wind to blow back the rain from the door and then threw the shield charm on full force as Hagrid stepped outside.
It worked surprisingly well. So well that when Hagrid deposited Hermione on the floor of his hut after loping through the grounds with her hanging on for dear life, she immediately looked at the pink umbrella she was holding with some suspicion.
"Hagrid, is this a magic wand?" she asked.
"Well, I thought you knew that the pieces of my wand are kept in that there umbrella, Hermione. But maybe it was only Harry who knew. Don't tell anyone. Technically I'm not allowed to have a wand, never having graduated, but Dumbledore let me have what was left of it after the Ministry snapped it into smithereens, and I put it in the handle of that there umbrella. I've invested a fair bit of weather magic in it over the years, which keeps most of the wind and rain off."
"I see," said Hermione. "I was fairly sure my Shield charm was not that effective. I didn't know your magic was so strong, Hagrid."
Beneath his beard, Hagrid seemed to blush. "Well, coming from you, that's a real compliment, Hermione. I can't do many spells, but I seem to be fairly good with weather and some other little things, like the care of magical creatures."
Hagrid turned his attention to Tiny who was hunched in front of the fire, worrying the bandage on his front paw. "Stop that, you ninny!" he commanded the dog before turning back to Hermione.
"Told you I needed to watch him!" he confided, before lurching over to satisfy himself the bandage was largely intact. "I'll just put the kettle on!" he offered, turning to the hearth. "That'll warm us up."
As she waited, Hermione glanced around the hut which she had not seen since it had been gutted by fire many years ago. It looked much the same, but she noticed a small desk in the corner with an inkwell and quill on top that had not been there before. It seemed strangely out of proportion to the rest of the furnishings.
Hermione attempted to make small talk until the tea was on the table and Hagrid was settled, then got to the point, "Hagrid, do you think it's possible that Professor Snape made a familiar?"
"A familiar, Hermione?" said Hagrid. "I don't think so. Well, they're not allowed yer know."
"Like your umbrella?" asked Hermione innocently.
Hagrid sipped his tea in reply.
Hermione decided to take another tack. "So you never saw him with any animal?"
"Well, he had a pet," said Hagrid, in a matter-of-fact 'just like everyone else' kind of way.
Hermione sat forward. "What kind of pet?"
"A raven. I would often see him talking to it in the Forbidden Forest."
Hermione felt her heart jolt. She was tempted to explain that people generally did not adopt wild animals as pets, but then she remembered Norbert the baby dragon and Buckbeak the Hippogriff. She had to acknowledge that Hagrid viewed the world through a different lens.
"When did you first see Professor Snape with the raven?" she asked eagerly.
"Well, it's hard to remember," said Hagrid, scratching his beard. "But I reckon he must have befriended it shortly after he returned to the school as a teacher."
"And what happened to it…" Hermione felt a lump form in her throat and briefly could not go on. "Can you remember seeing it after the Battle of Hogwarts?"
"Well, of course," said Hagrid. "I kept an eye out for it, see, knowing it was his special bird. I think it missed him. I used to even call it Severus, since I didn't know his name for it. It seemed to come to that moniker. I threw scraps of meat to it for years, but it wouldn't let me get as close to it as he did."
Hagrid took another sip of tea. "It's funny you should mention it now. 'Cos I haven't seen it for months. I guess it was getting old… In fact, the last day I saw it was that day you came to Hogsmeade a few months ago in midsummer, with those other Aurors. I believe you wanted to talk to Madame Rosemerta about someut. I was so excited, I hadn't seen yer for years! I waved to you as you mounted your broomstick, but yer didn't see me. And then I saw the raven sitting on the chimney of The Three Broomsticks. It flew off after you, right after yer left."
"Right," said Hermione, thinking furiously—that timeframe corresponded roughly to the beginning of her sightings of the bird in London. Running late on that day, she had loaned a broomstick from a Madame Rosmerta, in order to catch the Hogsmeade Express back to London. Ravens were not migratory birds. Perhaps it also had hitched a lift back on the train?
"Well, that is very interesting, Hagrid," she said aloud.
"Yes," said Hagrid. "I always knew there was a better side to Snape, …Professor Snape, I mean. Anyone who forms a bond with a wild creature like that has to have a good heart!" he affirmed.
Hermione was not really sure how to respond to this, so she smiled weakly. She was spared any reply when she was distracted by a scratching sound, coming from behind her. She turned to see the quill she had noted on the small desk behind her busy writing something on a piece of parchment.
"Oh! That'll be Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid, heaving himself to his feet. "She must want summat."
Hagrid plucked a scrap of parchment from the table, which in his hands looked no larger than a postage stamp, but turned out to more the size of an envelope when he handed it to Hermione.
"It's fer you, Hermione. I'll let you read it fer yourself."
Having established that Hermione was at Hagrid's hut, already halfway to Hogsmeade, Professor McGonagall was proposing they meet at The Hog's Head rather than journeying together from the castle.
The change seemed a sensible one in view of the weather. Hermione was a little surprised, however, at Professor McGonagall's choice of venue—The Three Broomsticks was by far the more salubrious pub.
"If yer want to write a reply," explained Hagrid. "Yer just turn the paper over, and write on the back of it with the magic quill—very neat system that the headmistress set up fer me. No need to bother the owls."
Hermione did just that, accepting Professor McGonagall's invitation for noon. She noticed her message disappeared as she slipped the quill back in the inkwell, leaving the parchment clean for the next message.
She looked at her cell phone. It lacked only a quarter hour till twelve. "Well, thank you Hagrid. It was nice seeing you again. I hope Tiny recovers soon. I suppose I had better make tracks."
"Make tracks?" repeated Hagrid. "Are yer perhaps wanting to lure something in the Forbidden Forest?"
Hermione mentally chastised herself. "I'm sorry, Hagrid. I've just come back from visiting my parents in Australia. I meant I had better get going, since Professor McGonagall and I are to meet in fifteen minutes."
"Well, of course, Hermione, I'll be taking yer, jus' like we came from the castle."
As this was certainly more appealing than trudging through the rain on her own, Hermione gladly accepted, climbing onto her Hagrid's back and arming herself with the pink umbrella.
Outside, the weather showed no sign of relenting. It was no day for sightseeing. Hermione hunkered down in the lee of Hagrid's head and focussed on her shield charm.
They arrived at The Hog's Head with time to spare. Hagrid offered to come inside to have a butter beer with Hermione while she waited for the headmistress.
Hermione found the interior of the pub no more inviting than when she had entered it on previous occasions. At least it was mercifully clear of shady characters. Hagrid seated himself on a low stool cut from a tree stump near the tap and pulled a high bar chair up for Hermione.
When the barman appeared, Hermione could not stop herself from letting out a gasp of astonishment. For a moment, she had thought Albus Dumbledore had walked into the room. Aberforth Dumbledore's blue eyes pierced her. He was wearing much cleaner robes than she had ever seen him in previously, enhancing his already uncanny resemblance to his older brother. But on further inspection, the nose was less refined than his brother's and not broken. Aside from his long beard, he looked remarked hale for a man who must be at least 120 years old.
"Morning, Hagrid" greeted Aberforth. "A butter beer for you and the lady?"
"Yes, please, Abby," assented Hagrid. "This here's Hermione Grainger, what helped Harry finish Lord Voldemort."
Aberforth turned to Hermione. "I thought I recognised you. Thank you for putting my brother on the straight and narrow. I have finally managed to forgive him."
Hermione was quite astonished at his words. Aberforth began to pull the beers, as if he had done nothing more than give them the time of day.
"I don't understand," said Hermione, finally finding her voice. "All we did was merely finish the task that your brother left us. I do not think we in any way influenced his thinking or his morals."
"Not knowing my brother like I do, you underestimate yourself. Do you know which house my brother belonged to as a student?"
"Well, as headmaster, he always tried to maintain impartiality, but I understood he was a Gryffindor."
"No," replied Aberforth. "It was I who was in Gryffindor. Albus was in Ravenclaw, though he didn't correct people later on when they confused us. He valued intelligence above all things, considered himself an elite. That was how all that trouble with Grindelwald started. And when Tom Riddle came along, had he learned his lesson? No, even though I warned him that no good could ever come from teaching magic to such an evil boy."
"I understood that it was the Headmaster, Professor Dippet, who invited Tom Riddle to attend Hogwarts?" offered Hermione.
"Formally, yes. But it was Albus who made Dippet aware of Tom Riddle, having come across him in his search for the Three Hallows."
"Oh!" said Hermione, having never heard this aspect of the story. Of course, Hermione was already aware of Dumbledore's obsession with the Hallows—how he had gained the Elder Wand by defeating Grindelwald in the Great Wizarding War and deprived the Potters of their Hallow—the invisibility cloak—at their time of greatest need. To now discover that Professor Dumbledore had effectively set Lord Voldemort on his path to domination through his obsession with them, was indeed shocking.
"So you see," continued Aberforth, "that aside from the perpetrators—Grindelwald and Tom Riddle respectively, my brother did more than any other wizard in bringing about the great Wizarding Wars of the 20th Century, and he was involved with both wars, not just the one like those two miscreants. I told him I would never forgive him if he didn't set things right."
"But you did reconcile to some extent before he died, surely?" enquired Hermione. "You helped us before the Battle. I understood it was he who set you up in this tavern, so that he might have you close by?"
"Well, you would not be wrong about that. I did forgive him for a bit after he defeated Grindelwald, not being aware at the time of how true my advice would prove in the case of Tom Riddle. But we fell out again. There was a time when we didn't speak at all. It was only later, when I told him he needed to take a leaf from Lily Potter's book, and made him promise that he would set things right or die trying that I began to help him again."
"Ah," said Hermione, contemplating this new state of things.
A cuckoo clock in the corner of the pub began to chirp midday. There was a flash in the hearth, and Professor McGonagall stepped out of the flames, shedding floo powder and kicking a brightly lit coal she had dislodged back into the hearth with her toe of her shoe. She set Hermione's broomstick down near the hearth.
"You might have dulled the flames for my arrival, Aberforth," she said tartly.
"Sorry, Minerva. I got to reminiscing and didn't notice the hour approach. The meal is all laid out in the private room."
"Well," said Hagrid, swigging the last of his butter beer as he stood. "I'd best be off! 'Afternoon to yer, Headmistress and Hermione!"
And after stooping to retrieve his pink umbrella from where it was drying before the hearth, Hagrid opened the door and stepped once more into the maelstrom.
"Will it be Gillywater you're drinking, Professor?" asked Aberforth as the closing of the door blocked out the howling wind.
"Thank you, Aberforth."
Hermione picked up her tankard of butter beer as Professor McGonagall ushered her into a room set into the dark wainscoting of the tap room.
Despite seeking refuge for several hours at the pub before the battle of Hogwarts, Hermione had never seen this room. She and Harry had been directed to rooms upstairs where trays of food had been delivered to them. It was a light-filled cheery dining room, decorated with gingham curtains and looking onto a tiny English country garden, miraculously shielded from the elements. On the table, a ploughman's lunch was set out—bread, cheese, butter and a selection of fruits.
"This is actually Aberforth's dining room," said McGonagall. "I understand he and Albus met here frequently in years gone by. He has kindly put it at my disposal for discreet meetings, since I became headmistress."
"Is this a discreet meeting?" asked Hermione in surprise.
McGonagall merely tittered in an uncharacteristically girlish way in reply.
Unsure how to take this, Hermione launched upon her update. "Well, as you know, Professor Vector is attempting to decrypt Professor Snape's journals. And Hagrid was able to confirm for me this morning that Severus had a long standing relationship with a raven, just as Pomona intimated yesterday. He continued to feed the raven after Professor Snape's death at the time of the Battle of Hogwarts and continued to do so until quite recently. He claimed he saw the raven for the last time on the day I first visited Hogsmeade after so long, in midsummer."
Professor McGonagall looked distinctly sceptical. "Hermione, as an older person, let me have the temerity to give you some advice. Try to keep what the Muggles call some 'work-life balance'. I think you are perhaps looking too hard for connections that are simply not there."
Hermione was a little disconcerted at having what she felt were insights trodden on so mercilessly. She wished she had kept them under her hat until she had gotten the final confirmation or dismissal from Bob.
"I really wanted to talk to you about something else," said McGonagall briskly. "I was very surprised when you left the Department of Mysteries. It seemed the ideal job for you."
Hermione felt her cheeks flush as that sense of crushing failure rushed in on her again. She stumbled to find her words. "From the outside, it seemed ideal, but the Department was stuck in time. I had to work on tasks that were prescribed for me. I felt like a galley slave. I had far more latitude to think creatively as a student here at Hogwarts than I did in the Department. It was the most hierarchical, sexist environment I've ever had to work in. Eventually, Harry convinced me to move over to the Aurors. I admit I would rather be doing something creative; more positive, than chasing down the remnants of Voldemort's evil empire; but at least I'm treated as a professional; allowed to put my brain into second gear."
McGonagall nodded in sympathy. "It's a shame. The Department did some very good work in the past. It has been contracting for years because the Ministry doesn't think it is important. More money has been shuffled towards the Aurors because rounding up the bad guys is always popular. So the demographics of the employees have changed. They aged as the Department didn't take on as many young people to replace the retirees. It put them in a difficult spot with regard to improving their gender balance, but nor did they make much effort—there is always some 'promising' young male relative seeking to be accommodated, who didn't quite do as well on his NEWTs as he expected. The Department ossified. I'm sorry for recommending the position to you. I thought perhaps you could breathe some fresh air into the place, but clearly there was too much dead wood to allow that to occur."
Hermione looked into her cup as she silently re-reviewed all the 'what ifs?'—things she might have said or done better to have succeeded.
"I'm glad you put it behind you and moved on," said McGonagall, as if she could read Hermione's mind. "But I'm still not sure that the Aurors is the right place for you either. There are no openings at the school at the moment, but would you consider a position with us in the future? I cannot think that new Potions master is going to last long. As unimpressive as he is, he can still probably make more gold freelancing. His predecessor runs a YouTube channel on household cleaning tips, complete with website—highly unscrupulous since the filming is all done with magic. I understand the products are nothing more than standard Muggle cleaning products."
Hermione had to smile at that. "Well, at least they work," she offered.
"We would, of course, give you a light teaching load," continued McGonagall, "enough to enable you to continue some research on any topic of interest to you…"
"Thank you for the offer," said Hermione, "but I feel like I've only just started with the Aurors. They created this special 'detective' role for me that doesn't involve apprehensions and they put so much effort into training me. I would feel ungrateful to leave… I saw Draco Malfoy at the Ministry a few weeks ago, and he gave me grief about my switch to the Aurors. I'm sure he and his cronies would have a field day if I changed professions again. "
"Why should you care what other people think, Hermione? At Hogwarts, we value teachers who have experience outside of teaching. Draco would do well to get a job himself rather than relying on his inherited wealth."
"I appreciate the offer," said Hermione. "I always envisioned myself as a teacher at Hogwarts when I was younger, but I just couldn't bear to come back here straight after the Battle. You've done a wonderful job rebuilding the school."
"I told myself I wouldn't rest until every stone had been put back in place," said McGonagall. "I determined not to leave office until I had at least restored it to something resembling how it had been in Dumbledore's time. Every other head of Hogwarts has improved it in some way, whereas I have been preoccupied with reversing the damage."
"The school is looking almost as I knew it," admitted Hermione.
"There are still a few scrapes and gashes in the stonework which we decided not to repair. It was Professor Binns' suggestion. He thought it wouldn't do to completely erase them, so we've kept them as a reminder of that terrible time."
"And do you think it will be possible to focus on some new project now—some legacy of yourself at the school?" asked Hermione.
"Well, that is an interesting idea. I hadn't thought that far ahead, or perhaps I have. Rather than doing anything with bricks and mortar, I was thinking of making some structural changes at the school."
"Structural changes?" asked Hermione.
"Well, yes. I must say I was rather impressed by the correspondence course you were doing in Muggle mathematics. It seems to me we cease formal education too early in the Wizarding World. I feel there is scope to provide continued specialised classes, perhaps given by guest lecturers, experts in their field. Imagine if more people had had access to lessons in Defence against the Dark Arts by Alistair Moody, or Dumbledore himself. Currently, only those who work directly with such people can benefit from their knowledge…"
Hermione acknowledged that it was a good idea and possibly very timely, in view of the diminished knowledge base that the war had wrought.
After the last piece of fruit was consumed, both ladies looked at what remained of the bread and cheese and acknowledged they could eat no more.
"I had better get going," sighed Hermione.
"Look after yourself, my dear," said McGonagall, "and think carefully about my offer. I believe the change could benefit both of us."
Hermione said her goodbyes, hoisted her backpack onto her back, picked up her broomstick in her left hand and a handful of floo powder in her right.
McGonagall briefly staunched the flames as Hermione stepped into the hearth.
"The Leaky Cauldron!" Hermione called clearly.
