Ibex's Lyre
What was Hermione's Animagus form, then? Well, she's a snow leopard, but really, who has heard of a snow leopard with wings? (Trust me, she's not supposed to have wings.)
A friend of mine likes to claim that if she were to be any animal, she'd be a Panther dragon. Now what a Panther dragon is exactly... well... I'm not sure. I don't think she's sure, either, but it sounds kind of neat.
For SabreBabe, the cool gal
Chapter Five: When the Darkness Beckons
Those who are prepared shall not want for warmth when the snows come across this enchanted land.
The irony of the situation did not make the solemn man who climbed the thousand steps smile or sneer; it was the knowledge that he had made a very unwise decision, and the repercussions were already beginning spread outwards like leaves on the wind. Dark and chilling was his smile, like looking at the face of a man about to be hung laughing at the gathering crowd for being unfortunate enough to go on living. It made Minerva shiver.
"I don't see what's so funny," she said crisply. Severus' smile thinned, but he said nothing.
Funny how things were... After the winter solstice, the days should have been getting longer. Instead, every passing day seemed shorter and darker than the one before it. The clouds were swallowing the sun and it seemed as though only he could see the signs and feel the corruption slowly spread across the magical realm. "What fools we mortals be," was all he said.
Albus Dumbledore's office was as it always had been--circular and portrait filled. Fawkes appeared to be sleeping on the edge of a chessboard, feathered chest expanding and contracting with every rapid breath he took. Albus himself was flipping through some papers presumably from the Ministry and seemed rather delighted to have a distraction for he put down his papers and smiled cheerfully at the two.
"Ah, Minerva, Severus, pleasant as always to see you, although you are back a bit early."
"As pleased as you undoubtedly are, I have more disturbing things to inform you of, headmaster." Severus dismissed Albus' friendly greeting with a flick of his hand. Now was not the time for small talk and pleasantries. "I fear we are on the brink of another war."
"And why is that?" Albus asked pleasantly anyway. He put down the papers he had been examining and moved a bishop to take one of the knights on Fawkes' side of the board. The phoenix opened his eyes and began to examine the board.
A hiss of exasperation left Severus' mouth, and Minerva felt inclined to answer for him.
"It seems that there is someone out there intent on harming Miss Granger." Her face was as grim as it had been the first day she had seen her prized student in St. Mungo's.
"More than just harm her, Albus, but control her. Abduct her." Severus' attitude suggested that for all he cared, they could have her. The old wizard knew though that however his potions Professor tried to act, he did care whether Hermione was taken.
"Do we know who, my dear Severus, wishes to do harm to Hermione, and why?" Fawkes ruffled his feathers, pecked one of Albus' rooks over and used his beak to move his glass queen to where the onyx figure had been. Both the queen and the rook seemed rather indignant over the way they were being handled by the phoenix.
Severus' eyes darkened. "Lucius Malfoy has that happy honor, not that it should surprise anyone. Although I could not ascertain what he intends to do with her, he has had the potential and motivation for years. I was a fool to have not seen this before, and a fool even more so for driving Hermione to him." He grated his teeth and ignored the look Minerva was giving him.
"Indeed, Severus," she asked, "is it already that bad? I was led to believe that you could control her with a single thought."
"I could," and he shot her a look that withered a bunch of sweet smelling flowers in a vase behind Albus' desk, "until I in my mistaken attempt to get the girl to think on her own gave her a potion that temporarily dampened the mental connections between us." Although Snape did not bother to tell the Headmaster and the transfigurations Professor the unpleasant conversation (if you could call it that, for Hermione had not actually spoken) that had ensued afterwards, he could not help but feel that perhaps Dumbledore somehow knew.
"And now she doesn't believe that the bond exists anymore?" the old man said softly. He frowned and looked back to his game.
The dark-scowling man did not answer--nor did he look at the pondering headmaster and somewhat accusatory glare of Minerva. "I would suggest," she said somewhat coldly, "that you did not make this mistake in the future."
"It was either that or have her dependant upon me for the rest of her assuredly miserable life. I am not an easy man to share a mind with."
"Yes, it must be lonely," she retorted, and looked back at Albus. The aforementioned man was currently studying the chessboard with all his interest. A gleeful look came upon his face and he moved his bishop to box in Fawkes' queen so that she was trapped with seemingly nowhere to go without being in danger of being taken. Fawkes' avian expression of displeasure was not unlike Severus'.
"I believe," he finally said when he was sure that Snape was going to make an unkind comment, "that we have been given no choice--unless you can suddenly convince Miss Granger of the continued existence of your connection... I have suspected something like this would happen for a while now, which is why I left her in your care. We most certainly should not give up, but..." Albus sighed, watching Fawkes contemplate what he should do now. "I believe the next move must be Hermione's."
Fawkes, his mind made up, pushed a lonely pawn near Albus's end of the board forward with a wing feather and knocked one of the black knights away. Albus sent his own queen into attack, leaving his king alone and unprotected. In a stroke of bird brained brilliance, Fawkes took this opportunity to set his suicidal queen diagonal forward--safely out of harm's way, but checking Albus' king in doing so.
"Oh, dear," he said, his eyes gleaming even in defeat, "I hadn't thought of that. I suppose you win, Fawkes."
Disgusted, Severus stormed out of the room and back to his dungeons, leaving Minerva behind to tell the man of Hermione's newfound ability to transfigure her body into a snow leopard.
The Hogwarts Express, as trains when, was a comfortable ride quiet enough for contemplation, but at the same time crowded enough that if somebody chose, there was always a friend or acquaintance around with which to chat. Hermione chose to do the former. In fact, she was not quite sure how she felt, for she was coming back to the source of all her problems and all her joys. One thing did seem certain, though: she was sure her heart was becoming frozen like ice, was becoming as cold as the man she had longed for.
And a thought came to her: perhaps it was time to give up her heart, for it seemed like only those she did not want held any feelings for her, and the one she did would never reciprocate. Therefore, her mind concluded, her heart was useless--she would never have need of it.
The universe sometimes has a decidedly cruel idea of humor. Hermione could have never known that many years before on the very same train, an unhappy young man came to the same conclusion as she had just done, had decided that to be cold and cruel was infinitely better than to every be swept away in a one-sided love affair again.
A grim look set upon her face as she became determined to disassociate her heart from the rest of her emotions.
The train arrived without incident.
Classes began in full swing again as the students and faculty began the new year with a (presumably) bright outlook and a rested mind. Of course, there were always exceptions, but the vast majority of the student body was excited about something or another. For the Seventh Years, of course, it was the prospect of only a few more short months before they were off and on their own. For the First Years, it was the idea that the summer break was that much closer. There was something optimistic for almost everyone.
The first class of the day for Hermione and most of the other Seventh Years was double Transfigurations. This was proceeded by Care of Magical Creatures and Defense Against the Dark Arts. She chatted with Ron and Harry throughout the day, catching up on new things and listening to the wild stories the boys told about their breaks--with a grain of salt, of course. It would have been a perfect, Snape Free start to the new year, except that her very last class of the day was reserved for her Seventh Year Project.
Hermione filed into the empty potions classroom with cold, seething anger. Of course he wouldn't be here. He needed to make her wait, first, if only to prove that he was her better. Rather annoyed, Hermione went through her satchel and pulled out some of the homework she had already received and began to work on it, expecting that at any moment Snape would come in and force her to put away her books. But he didn't come. For almost an hour past, he didn't come, and when he did finally enter his classroom, door slamming against the wall so that it rebound to close itself from the force, Hermione found that she had lost what anger she'd been harboring to the calmness of logic.
Quietly, so as not to upset him anymore, she put her books away and sat attentively.
Snape himself was sitting at his podium-desk, green quill scratching away obliviously. From the way his quill kept on moving, Hermione was sure that either he was grading a paper from Neville (which didn't make sense since he had had the entire break to get work done) or he wasn't grading anything at all. The latter was correct.
"Well...?" came his impatient query after a few minutes, and his quill stilled.
"What sir?" Hermione was unsure as to what she was supposed to do.
"Are you going to transform your miserable body, or are you going to continue your incessant idleness? "
She gaped at him. "You know?"
"I know," and his voice was silkiest, mesmerizing, "many things."
Swallowing slightly--she was unsure why she was so uncharacteristically nervous--Hermione stepped out into the front of the classroom with her back turned to the potions Professor, and began to concentrate. Vague doubts plagued the back of her mind and mocked her newfound ability. To quiet these, she took a deep breath and thought of how it had felt to shorten her fingers and feel her spine elongate. Small and compact, elegant and sleek, with pads on her feet and fur on her body; Hermione had transformed.
Silver eyes glowered up at Snape and a pink tongue licked feline lips the way cats do when irritated and the mere twitch of a tail won't do.
Instead of becoming angry or annoyed, he merely raised an eyebrow and continued writing. "No wings?"
This new revelation startled the snow leopard Hermione, and she arched her furry neck back to find that indeed she did not have wings.
Stunned, she transformed back into a human and tried to ask questions, but he silenced her, and continued his writing. After a few minutes, he finally placed his quill back in the ink well and motioned for her to come to his desk. "Sign here," he simply said.
Curious as a cat, or perhaps a snow leopard, Hermione came forward and looked down at what he had been writing on all this time. She was surprised when she saw that they were registration papers for animagai, but at the same time she realized that it made perfect sense. As soon as Hermione signed the papers underneath Snape's spidery signature, the documents disappeared and in their place appeared a certificate of registration, and a magical identification card to be kept in a safe place. (Since there were so few registered animagai, it was not considered necessary that somebody carry proof of their legality as it could be easily looked up without confusion.)
With the greatest of care, Hermione picked up the certificate and card and studied them carefully. When she had their images burned into her mind, she asked the new question that nagged her mind. "What now?" Her voice had been cool and uncaring, emotionless; yet the need for an answer betrayed her façade. A thin, almost but not quite mocking smile came across Snape's face.
"That, Miss Granger, is entirely up to you."
Although it was usually not wise to press this man with questions, Hermione did anyway. She, after all, was no longer afraid of him. "What do you mean?"
Snape's smile turned into a sneer and he pulled out a book into which he began putting marks. "I mean, Miss Granger," and his tone of voice was meant to remind her who was the teacher and who was the pupil, "that your project--projects, since I believe investigating your insanity was also a project--are completed. The desired objectives have been obtained, thus there is nothing left to do save perhaps write a report on both that I may grade."
"But... There are so many things I could still research," Hermione said desperately at the thought of suddenly having a class of self-paced research come to an end for any reason. "The first time I transfigured, I had wings--"
"--that were nothing more than the result of a mistransformation--which as I have been led to believe by the resident expertProfessor McGonagall are quite commonplace the first few times one transforms. Now if you would please, I have more important things to do than babysit a Gryffindor unless it be through detention."
"But--"
"Five points, Miss Granger."
Hermione sighed seeing that no matter what she did, she was going to lose this conversation. As she began to pack up (she was not sure whether she was going to disappear to her room or the Gryffindor common room,) the large, somewhat unkempt figure of Argus Filch came in with a cat in his hands and a couple of cats trailing behind.
"Here's your sweet," he said in his particular voice and dropped Quantum off on Snape's desk. "Kept safe and fed while you were gone, she's been." Quantum immediately began purring and saying her happy greetings whilst Snape was petting her with a very small smile on his face. As if, thought Hermione, they had been separated for quite some time.
A thought suddenly came to her mind--what if... No... Professor Dumbledore woudn't have... She slipped out as quiet and unnoticeably as she could and headed straight towards the library.
The document that Hermione needed was nowhere to be found; presumably somebody else had checked it out. It didn't matter much, as Hermione was not sure the information she needed would be found within. There was always the good possibility that Snape had decided to exempt himself from the rules if he saw fit. Still, it was a start if she could ever find the book.
Hermione felt as though there were some questions to be answered. If what and Professors Snape and McGonagall had said about mistransformations was true, she wanted to know why--what does bat wings have to do with a snow leopard? Unless, of course, her own speculations were correct, and that Snape had learned a new trick over the break. Which, sadly enough, led back to her original predicament, which was not being able to find the book in which all the known animagai who had ever existed were named.
There was one new hypothesis she was developing, one she wanted to keep silent and sacred until she had divined the correct answer to. What if... What if an animagus could have more than one form--despite what everyone said?
But Hermione didn't get to test that hypothesis immediately; school began to interfere as Hermione found that she needed to begin studying for the NEWTS and as new projects from other classes began to unfold. January slushed into cold, wet February bringing no answers but only unpleasantness as wet students put on thick cloaks and clambered outside to be cold and shivering during Care of Magical Creatures only to go back inside later where the snow on their clothes and they could be cold and wet indoors as well. Aside from the slight pleasure of giving Filch more things to clean up (he could often be seen cursing students under his breath while simultaneously employing those in detention to use a mop and a bucket near the main entrances) the coldness and dampness tended to make these months simply miserable.
As February neared, so to did giddy teen-aged hormones stir up in the atmosphere, and Hermione noticed... a change in one of her friends. Something was up with Ron.
Well... Something was always up with Ron, but this was different if only because it meant that he was suddenly directing odd giddy glances towards her every now and then and following her around as if he had suddenly realized that Hermione was human. In addition, the red headed boy who had never cared all that much about classes before had suddenly developed an acute case of Longbottom Syndrome, requesting her help for even the simplest potions problem.
The thought... the idea that perhaps somebody else wanted the heart that had been so callously rejected made Hermione realize with a sharp pang of regret how distant she had become from even her friends. The need to talk to somebody reverberated through her soul and made her search for the one person whom she hoped would listen to her talk--even if it was just about Quidditch.
Hermione found Harry at supper time, and with considerable care managed to sneak him a note with the instructions:
Meet me at the Astronomy Towers tonight at 10:00, alone.
written neatly. Harry looked slightly puzzled, but quickly put the note away just in time to see the black robes of Snape whisk by, apparently already satiated. The Professor, as if acting upon some instinct that told him something was not as it should be paused for a moment and stared thoughtfully at the two. "I hope," he said in a low voice that was quite contrary to the next thing he said, "that none of you are up to something that would get you suspended...?"
Caught nearly red-handed, Harry could do nothing more but gape up at the teacher. The situation at hand was strange enough as it was without Snape finding yet another way to humiliate the not quite so famous anymore Harry Potter. "No, sir--Hermione and I were busy discussing her project--" Quite frankly, he had no idea where he'd come up with that line, but he prayed to anyone who might possibly be listening that Snape didn't become any more curious than he already was.
It seemed that nobody was listening, for the man in black starched clothing blinked, without emotion, exactly as a hawk would look at newly discovered prey. "And what project would that be... Miss Granger?" His gaze shifted over to her.
Hermione withstood his eyes and held her ground. "Harry and I were busy discussing my upcoming Arithmancy project, sir. It's really rather interesting; my thesis concerns the accuracy of Mars in reference to predicting omens of the future compared to the mathematical foundations and fundamental theories of --"
A great sneer of contempt came across his face as he interrupted her, "Yes well, as undoubtedly intriguing as that must be," his tone made it quite clear he thought her subject was complete and utter rubbish, "it is still quite necessary for you to inform me of your location at all times. Is that clear?"
"Crystal," she muttered, and for the first time a very dark look surfaced in her eyes. "In that case, sir, I am going to the Library. If, of course, you approve? Or would you rather I follow you around like the cat you keep in your pocket?"
His eyes narrowed dangerously, and he said so softly as to almost be silent, "Ten points for your cheek, Miss Granger." Then, with a whisk of clothing and not even so much as a detention, he stalked away from the Hogwarts dining chambers.
Hermione stared thoughtfully after him for a few moments before disappearing herself, presumably off to the library.
Harry showed up on time as the note had said with the hope that Hermione would enlighten him as to what was going on. It didn't surprise him when she found her already there with a large telescope, for Hermione had ever been punctual. What did surprise him was the fact that she did indeed appear to be working on a project for Arithmancy. When he had told Snape that he and Hermione had been discussing a project, he had never dreamed that perhaps his lie was actually somewhat true. Well, it explained her cryptic message somewhat.
"I'm sorry I dragged you all the way up here," Hermione apologized to her friend when she saw him clamber up towards her location. Together they worked on setting up her telescope. "It's just that... I don't know... I'm beginning to feel like I'm being watched all the time. I figured this is the safest place from spying eyes."
Harry decided not to comment about paranoia and continued working on the telescope anyway. "So how is this going to keep us from getting in trouble? Given the reputation of this place, I'm sure Snape and Filch make it their business to come up here at least once during the night."
Hermione made a sour face and began to focus the telescope on the moon and Mars. "It so happens that I was assigned to do a report for Arithmancy earlier today that involves the orbits of planets. That was very lucky of you, Harry. Anyway, while I don't know the habits of Filch, I do know that Professor Snape isn't very likely to come looking at the top of Astronomy Towers for me tonight--or if he does, he won't have very much grounds to reprimand either you or I."
"Why?" This interested Harry greatly for he did not particularly enjoy the prospects of three weeks of detention and a false reputation.
A mischievous smile lit her face. "Why Harry, you know how great is his concern about always knowing my whereabouts..."
Surprise and intrigue crossed his mind as well as suspicion at his good friend's behavior. As much as Ron liked to deny it, Harry was convinced that something was odd about Hermione. "What did you do, Hermione?"
"Relax," she said in her crisp, authoritative tone. "Nothing you wouldn't approve of. I merely left him a note attached to his pillow."
"Then why the mysterious look?"
"Because, my dear Harry, he'll have to enter his quarters before he finds the note. Unfortunately, he doesn't tend to do this until he's just preparing to sleep for the night, which he will most likely not do until he has made his rounds. And if he does indeed find us here, he won't be able to put us in detention, because I have a note giving me--as well as you--permission to spend my nights up here. Therefore, unless he desires to take this up with Professor Dumbledore, he'll have no other recourse but to storm back to his dark quarters and be exceedingly intolerable tomorrow. Which is, of course, a Saturday, so he won't be able to take out his frustration in class."
Harry wasn't quite as confident as Hermione seemed to be with the sanity of this plan; consciously annoying Snape was never very smart if one wanted one's life to be pleasant at all. However, Hermione seemed confident in what she was doing, and continued to fiddle with the telescope and take copious notes even as a small snow front began to move in and block out the stars.
''You know," Harry said carefully, testing the waters like any good friend would, "Ron likes you a lot."
"I know. I assumed as much, anyway," Hermione responded in a low, quiet voice. Quietly, she allowed for her hands to fall to her side and the parchment she carried to fall softly in the snow before her. "I'm flattered, but..."
"But your heart belongs to someone else?" Somewhere deep in his mind he was the one who was flattered that Hermione was finally talking to him again--even if the conversation was romantics and relationships.
"..." came the reply as Hermione fell back into deep thought. She needed the time to choose her words carefully. "When I when beyond the veils, when I died, I am beginning to feel as though not all of me came back from the great beyond. Even still... I'm not entirely sure that I would ever have reciprocated Ron's feelings anyway."
Hermione sat down next to Harry and leaned her head on his shoulder, unafraid that Harry would misinterpret the simple act of friendship. For many long moments, the two friends contented themselves into watching the snows fall gently above the Astronomy Towers, telescope forgotten and rendered useless because of the dark clouds that were bringing the thick dusting of frozen water. Breath condensed and disappeared as time seemed to hold itself in one place. Peace reined between the two; calmness due to the understanding that neither desired the other as anything more than simple friends.
After a time, the nagging thoughts that plagued Hermione day and night convinced her to speak to her longtime friend.
"Harry," she said, "did you ever stop to wonder whether this was perhaps simply the calm between the storm? I mean, Voldemort's death was a bit melodramatic... No big duel, no countless thousands dying. It seems rather fake to me."
Harry's lips tightened slightly before he relaxed enough to stare down moodily at his gloves. "It didn't seem melodramatic to me," came his reply.
"What do you mean?"
"My scar..." he started but stopped again. That didn't seem the best way to begin. "Sometimes I used to have dreams of Voldemort that would turn out to be true. Sometimes my scar simply hurt. The night you killed Voldemort, the pain was so great--it was the worst pain I'd ever felt in my life. Not even the Cruatius Curse hurt that much... The only way I can describe it is that it felt like I was being eaten alive by snakes from the inside out. Like I'd failed myself and failed you. I was..."
"Harry..." Hermione whispered. "I'm sorry..."
He sighed heavily. "Don't be. I guess I'm still a little disoriented. I'd always been led to believe that I was the one who was supposed to kill Voldemort. It's probably better this way anyway."
"I think the sirens were playing us all for fools." Then a sigh herself. "I don't know. I still can't escape the feeling that even now something is out there planning dark things for the world."
Harry thought a while on this. "Dumbledore seems all knowing, and he doesn't seem very worried."
"Does he ever?"
"No," he laughed. "I guess not. Hermione?"
"Yes, Harry?"
"Let's say we save old Snape some excuses to deduct points and call it a night."
Hermione smiled and agreed. Still, somewhere in the back of her mind she felt that the ever-present darkness was calling to her, beckoning, luring...
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You know, the more I think about it, the more I've become convinced that being able to transform your self into an animal is a form of wandless magic. Anyway, I've realized that I haven been responding to reviewers lately, which is very disrespectful of me. So I have rectified my erroneous ways:
Ezmerelda: First Question: No, Hermione did not change into a wyvern in the forest. She changed into a Snow Leopard in the forest. With wings... Oh, dear... Second Question: Maybe. *evil grin*
c_fleurbleue: Thanks! I intend to continue, especially since I have skipped ahead and already written the very last chapter.
sweetevangeline: Thank you for your support. It makes a writer happy and sane.
Hontoutempest: don't worry, the story progresses ever forward.
SB: You must understand, I hadn't posted in quite a while and was, in a sense, out of the swing of things. Had I forseen the confusion not explicitly expressing this was a sequal had caused, I would have made it clear that this is, in fact, the rather shoddy sequel to a rather shoddy story.
JOdel: You were correct. I meant to write hazel, I instead inserted hickory. The trees are my enemy.
Danyelle: Thank you. (Although there are some days I beg to differ--beautiful? Never. Intriguing? Perhaps overly so. Detailed? The word: not enough often comes to mind.) I hope future chapters impress you (and I as well) more than these ones do.
Tegan: Every time you review I hope you know how guilty you make me. : ) I must admit I haven't read Echoes in a long time and I sorely need to do so and review like the dickens! I'm glad you like my portrayal of Snape (he's so fun to do, most of the time) and yes, everybody loves cute and cuddly little Crookshanks. It's not so much Hermione has a mental connection with just Crookshanks per say... Perhaps she has finally learned to actually listen to what animals say? Eh, well, mental connection works fine too. Don't worry, though--despite the fact that Hermione and Severus refuse to behave in respects to each other, they *do* eventually wind up together (and not in just a vague sort of way, either.)
Liesl: Heh... Muses are evil things, I think (right, Autumnmist?). I hope as well that I don't mentally dry up again either... especially since I've got the bestest, most melodramatically dramatic last chapter ever already written! (I'm sorry to tease you Ezmerelda, but you did have a good point about the ending chapter of LoS.) Anyway, if my muse runs away again, I think I'll capture her with a net. *another evil grin*
