Harry had been keeping a vigil over Hermione's bedside since Madam Pomfrey
began her task of keeping Hermione alive. He'd heard her muttering things;
"lost a lot of blood," "old wounds," and such. One time, Harry heard her
gasp in horror, but she hadn't let him see what it was that shocked her so.
After two or three hours, she finally slouched back against the wall and
declared that his friend would make a full recovery. Then she left to go
inform Dumbledore.
That had been four hours ago.
Suddenly, a door slammed, and Harry jumped to his feet as Dumbledore strode into the room, followed closely by a now respectable-looking McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey.
"But Professor Dumbledore," gasped Pomfrey; "You cannot wake up Hermione to question her! The poor girl almost died at Minerva's hands, you cannot interrogate her with Professor McGonagall standing a meter away! I simply will not allow it!"
"Madam Pomfrey, these are serious allegations that you have made, which must be addressed immediately. Professor McGonagall will of course be present as these attacks on her character are of such a nature as to pronounce her unfit to teach should they be proven true. Now, you will go to Severus and fetch me his strongest Veritaserum. You may rest assured that I will not begin questioning Miss. Granger until you have returned. Now kindly go, Poppy," Dumbledore urged, his stern demeanor softening into a pleasant but sad little smile.
With a heavy sigh, Pomfrey acquiesced before the trustworthiness radiated by that grandfatherly face. "I'll be back in a few moments," she promised with a special glare for McGonagall.
The door had barely clicked shut behind her when Dumbledore's kindly facade dropped like a stone. Anger hardened his voice and fit neatly into the creases of his wrinkled old face. "Honestly, Minerva, can't you control yourself?! This is the third time in as many years! Why can't you content yourself with orphan brats the way you used to?! No one noticed or cared if they went missing, because no one knew they were here in the first place. Students will be missed, especially one so closely tied with Potter," he snarled.
Alarmed, Harry drew back behind a curtain and slid backwards into the next partition. His head was reeling. Could this be the real Dumbledore? Was the kind old man just an act put on to win the trust of students?
"Those brats never posed a challenge, Albus. Some of us are more subtle in our tastes than you. It's no fun if you can't play with them a bit. Hermione's given me almost three years of pleasure, and in all that time, she hasn't told a soul," McGonagall pouted.
"She hasn't had to, my dear," Dumbledore scowled, "you've damaged her enough that people have begun to notice. Like Pomfrey. Do you really think that I can just keep altering her memory without her beginning to suspect anything? If the girl does die, even if it's by her own hand, then the Ministry is going to want to conduct their own autopsy, just to try and prove that we allow rampant drug use among our students or some such nonsense. It's going to show that she's been abused for years, which will lead to further inquiries, undoubtedly culminating in the closing of Hogwarts and the lot of us getting thrown into Azkaban!" the Headmaster shouted, his voice having grown steadily louder throughout his tirade.
Minerva's voice took on a silky tone. "But Albus, you're so good at covering up my little mistakes," she crooned.
Dumbledore chuckled dryly. "Even I have my limits, Minerva, dearest. And you of course realize that if this one can't be fixed then I'm going to Obliviate myself and thus legitimately deny any knowledge of your little hobbies."
"We could always just blame it on that Malfoy twit and his two henchmen," she said with a shrug. "It's not like people wouldn't believe them capable."
"True, but there's always a chance that someone will find out," Albus said just as casually as he walked over to Hermione and pulled off the sheet covering her. "Come Minerva, we have to finish this before Poppy returns so that she won't suspect anything's amiss when we Obliviate her."
Then Harry heard a swift intake of breath as Dumbledore looked down at Hermione's body. "Merlin's balls, Minerva! You really outdid yourself this time!"
Harry fought the urge to retch as the two bent over his friend's unconscious form, combining their power to quickly repair any visible damage. A quick cosmetic charm from Minerva covered up the scars, while Dumbledore dribbled a potion down Hermione's throat that would make it look like she just had the flu, even to Pomfrey's mediwitch observational spells. They had just barely finished and were in the process of straightening Hermione's robes and bedsheets when Pomfrey burst into the room holding a vial of purple liquid. She stopped short, and then her look of disbelief quickly changed to one of anger and outrage.
"I should've known better than to leave her alone with you two!" she screamed, hurling the vial at them. She was so furious that it missed McGonagall by a wide margin, shattering against a wall behind the duo. "What did you do to her?!" Pomfrey screeched and ran to Hermione's side, performing a quick diagnosis. Her eyes bugged out as she surveyed the reading that her wand showed her. "The flu! That's impossible, I know what I healed, and it definitely wasn't the bloody flu!"
She paused suddenly. "You're going to Obliviate me, aren't you?" she asked softly. "Merlin, Albus, I thought I knew you better than that. I thought you were better than that. What is the use of fighting Voldemort if you're going to condone things that he revels in? You're no better than him at all! And you've probably Obliviated poor Harry and sent him on his way so that he doesn't remember a damn bit of what that bitch did to his best friend!"
Dumbledore stilled at the mention of Harry's name, and Harry silently cursed his luck. "Yes, my dear, I will have to Obliviate you. And I assure you that I am quite different from Voldemort. Minerva will be punished, but to do so publicly and with the involvement of the Ministry would destroy any ability of ours to counteract Voldemort's growing power. You understand, don't you, Poppy?"
The mediwitch looked about ready to launch into another tirade, but was stopped short as Dumbledore lifted his wand and murmured "Obliviate."
Madam Pomfrey looked about herself with confusion. "Now, what was I doing?" she muttered, then looked up and saw Dumbledore and McGonagall. "Albus, Minerva, what on Earth are you doing here? And, oh dear, why is Hermione in a hospital bed? Whatever happened?!" even as she spoke, she closed the distance between herself and Hermione, worriedly leaning over the young girl's bed.
"Thank goodness, Poppy!" Dumbledore said brightly. "I was just about to go and get you. Minerva and I were talking with Ms. Granger when she suddenly collapsed. We levitated her up here, could you tell us if it's something serious?"
Madam Pomfrey shook her head briskly. "No need to worry, just a small case of the flu. It probably just dehydrated her enough to make her collapse like that. Plenty of tea and a few days of bedrest and she'll be fine. I'll just go get her some tea, Headmaster. Will you please stay with her until I return?"
"Certainly, my dear," Dumbledore replied graciously. "I'd be happy to help. After all, Hermione is such a dear girl. So bright. I have to thank you for putting my mind at ease."
Poppy simply smiled and inclined her head respectfully before turning toward the kitchens.
This time when the medi-witch left, Dumbledore didn't drop his mask of congeniality, but simply allowed a sinister flicker to enter his voice as he called out to the quiet Infirmary; "Come on out, Harry. There's no use in hiding."
A/N: Thanks to everyone for waiting around. I'm really sorry that this update took this long, but I'd like to thank all 5 of my reviewers and Whitney who offered to beta and helped me through a spot in here where I was completely stuck. After throwing some ideas around with her, I now have a pretty solid idea of where this is going. Not sure how many more chapters, although I'll try to keep them coming faster than the snail's pace this one insisted on.
That had been four hours ago.
Suddenly, a door slammed, and Harry jumped to his feet as Dumbledore strode into the room, followed closely by a now respectable-looking McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey.
"But Professor Dumbledore," gasped Pomfrey; "You cannot wake up Hermione to question her! The poor girl almost died at Minerva's hands, you cannot interrogate her with Professor McGonagall standing a meter away! I simply will not allow it!"
"Madam Pomfrey, these are serious allegations that you have made, which must be addressed immediately. Professor McGonagall will of course be present as these attacks on her character are of such a nature as to pronounce her unfit to teach should they be proven true. Now, you will go to Severus and fetch me his strongest Veritaserum. You may rest assured that I will not begin questioning Miss. Granger until you have returned. Now kindly go, Poppy," Dumbledore urged, his stern demeanor softening into a pleasant but sad little smile.
With a heavy sigh, Pomfrey acquiesced before the trustworthiness radiated by that grandfatherly face. "I'll be back in a few moments," she promised with a special glare for McGonagall.
The door had barely clicked shut behind her when Dumbledore's kindly facade dropped like a stone. Anger hardened his voice and fit neatly into the creases of his wrinkled old face. "Honestly, Minerva, can't you control yourself?! This is the third time in as many years! Why can't you content yourself with orphan brats the way you used to?! No one noticed or cared if they went missing, because no one knew they were here in the first place. Students will be missed, especially one so closely tied with Potter," he snarled.
Alarmed, Harry drew back behind a curtain and slid backwards into the next partition. His head was reeling. Could this be the real Dumbledore? Was the kind old man just an act put on to win the trust of students?
"Those brats never posed a challenge, Albus. Some of us are more subtle in our tastes than you. It's no fun if you can't play with them a bit. Hermione's given me almost three years of pleasure, and in all that time, she hasn't told a soul," McGonagall pouted.
"She hasn't had to, my dear," Dumbledore scowled, "you've damaged her enough that people have begun to notice. Like Pomfrey. Do you really think that I can just keep altering her memory without her beginning to suspect anything? If the girl does die, even if it's by her own hand, then the Ministry is going to want to conduct their own autopsy, just to try and prove that we allow rampant drug use among our students or some such nonsense. It's going to show that she's been abused for years, which will lead to further inquiries, undoubtedly culminating in the closing of Hogwarts and the lot of us getting thrown into Azkaban!" the Headmaster shouted, his voice having grown steadily louder throughout his tirade.
Minerva's voice took on a silky tone. "But Albus, you're so good at covering up my little mistakes," she crooned.
Dumbledore chuckled dryly. "Even I have my limits, Minerva, dearest. And you of course realize that if this one can't be fixed then I'm going to Obliviate myself and thus legitimately deny any knowledge of your little hobbies."
"We could always just blame it on that Malfoy twit and his two henchmen," she said with a shrug. "It's not like people wouldn't believe them capable."
"True, but there's always a chance that someone will find out," Albus said just as casually as he walked over to Hermione and pulled off the sheet covering her. "Come Minerva, we have to finish this before Poppy returns so that she won't suspect anything's amiss when we Obliviate her."
Then Harry heard a swift intake of breath as Dumbledore looked down at Hermione's body. "Merlin's balls, Minerva! You really outdid yourself this time!"
Harry fought the urge to retch as the two bent over his friend's unconscious form, combining their power to quickly repair any visible damage. A quick cosmetic charm from Minerva covered up the scars, while Dumbledore dribbled a potion down Hermione's throat that would make it look like she just had the flu, even to Pomfrey's mediwitch observational spells. They had just barely finished and were in the process of straightening Hermione's robes and bedsheets when Pomfrey burst into the room holding a vial of purple liquid. She stopped short, and then her look of disbelief quickly changed to one of anger and outrage.
"I should've known better than to leave her alone with you two!" she screamed, hurling the vial at them. She was so furious that it missed McGonagall by a wide margin, shattering against a wall behind the duo. "What did you do to her?!" Pomfrey screeched and ran to Hermione's side, performing a quick diagnosis. Her eyes bugged out as she surveyed the reading that her wand showed her. "The flu! That's impossible, I know what I healed, and it definitely wasn't the bloody flu!"
She paused suddenly. "You're going to Obliviate me, aren't you?" she asked softly. "Merlin, Albus, I thought I knew you better than that. I thought you were better than that. What is the use of fighting Voldemort if you're going to condone things that he revels in? You're no better than him at all! And you've probably Obliviated poor Harry and sent him on his way so that he doesn't remember a damn bit of what that bitch did to his best friend!"
Dumbledore stilled at the mention of Harry's name, and Harry silently cursed his luck. "Yes, my dear, I will have to Obliviate you. And I assure you that I am quite different from Voldemort. Minerva will be punished, but to do so publicly and with the involvement of the Ministry would destroy any ability of ours to counteract Voldemort's growing power. You understand, don't you, Poppy?"
The mediwitch looked about ready to launch into another tirade, but was stopped short as Dumbledore lifted his wand and murmured "Obliviate."
Madam Pomfrey looked about herself with confusion. "Now, what was I doing?" she muttered, then looked up and saw Dumbledore and McGonagall. "Albus, Minerva, what on Earth are you doing here? And, oh dear, why is Hermione in a hospital bed? Whatever happened?!" even as she spoke, she closed the distance between herself and Hermione, worriedly leaning over the young girl's bed.
"Thank goodness, Poppy!" Dumbledore said brightly. "I was just about to go and get you. Minerva and I were talking with Ms. Granger when she suddenly collapsed. We levitated her up here, could you tell us if it's something serious?"
Madam Pomfrey shook her head briskly. "No need to worry, just a small case of the flu. It probably just dehydrated her enough to make her collapse like that. Plenty of tea and a few days of bedrest and she'll be fine. I'll just go get her some tea, Headmaster. Will you please stay with her until I return?"
"Certainly, my dear," Dumbledore replied graciously. "I'd be happy to help. After all, Hermione is such a dear girl. So bright. I have to thank you for putting my mind at ease."
Poppy simply smiled and inclined her head respectfully before turning toward the kitchens.
This time when the medi-witch left, Dumbledore didn't drop his mask of congeniality, but simply allowed a sinister flicker to enter his voice as he called out to the quiet Infirmary; "Come on out, Harry. There's no use in hiding."
A/N: Thanks to everyone for waiting around. I'm really sorry that this update took this long, but I'd like to thank all 5 of my reviewers and Whitney who offered to beta and helped me through a spot in here where I was completely stuck. After throwing some ideas around with her, I now have a pretty solid idea of where this is going. Not sure how many more chapters, although I'll try to keep them coming faster than the snail's pace this one insisted on.
