Chapter 3: Découvrir
Hermione was on the Quidditch field when suddenly three Death Eaters materialized out of thin air and walked towards her. Hermione reached into her robes for her wand, but she couldn't find it; instead, she felt a Galleon-sized hole in her pocket where her wand must have slipped out. Panicked, she looked up at the Death Eaters and gasped. Ginny was standing next to one Death Eater, crying silently and looking at her with an expression of betrayal and fear. Two of her captors moved forward towards Hermione's trembling form, and the third pulled off his mask to reveal a familiar face...
Snape sneered at Hermione while his hands closed around Ginny's neck. "Well, aren't you going to help her?" he snarled.
Hermione tried to run towards Ginny, but her body seemed to slow down as the Death Eaters advanced upon her. Snape continued to choke Ginny, when suddenly he released his grip and began to fade away, calling as he left, "Why didn't you think, Miss Granger?" His voice faded into nothingness until all Hermione could hear were the snickers of the advancing Death Eaters. Now only three feet from Hermione, they pulled out their wands and pointed them at Hermione's throat. "You will die, Mudblood," one of the masked men sneered. Hermione recognized the voice; it belonged to none other than Draco Malfoy. "Mudblood, Mudblood," he chanted, "You failed, you failed...."
Hermione backed up against a wall that she felt sure had not existed there a second ago. "No," she whispered, "I didn't do it, I didn't, I swear..."
Draco's voice became even louder. "Mudblood, you failed..."
"No. No. No! I didn't! I didn't do it!"
"Hermione? Hermione? Hermione!" Harry's voice was loud in comparison to Draco's taunts.
"No, Harry, I didn't do it, I swear, I didn't do it, Harry, believe me..."
* * *
"...I didn't do it, I swear, I didn't do it, Harry, believe me...." Hermione cried in her sleep.
"Hermione! Wake up!" Harry commanded.
With a start, Hermione open her eyes to find Harry and Ron gazing down at her with identical looks of concern upon their faces. "Oh, " Hermione groaned. "My head...."
"Hermione, listen," Harry said quietly. "You've been lying up here for a while, and we're supposed to give you this." He held up a small vial; Hermione squinted to make out its label.
"It's Dreamless Sleep Potion," Ron said gently. "Madam Pomfrey wants you to take it right away..." he trailed off, for it was obvious that Hermione was not paying him the slightest bit of attention.
Eyes watering, Hermione tried to sit up, but she found that her muscles wouldn't obey her. She collapsed back upon the bed, feeling drained and nauseous. Harry and Ron simply stared at her glumly, when finally Hermione couldn't take their stares anymore. "Please," she croaked, " Can I have some water?"
Harry shook his head. "You're not allowed to have anything except the potion." He gestured towards the small bottle, now perched atop the table beside Hermione's bed.
Hermione closed her eyes. "No, I want some water, Harry," she murmured as she slipped back into sleep.
The boys watched her helplessly for a few minutes longer. When it became apparent that she wasn't going to wake up any time soon, they quietly slipped out of the Hospital Wing and walked slowly back to Gryffindor Tower, lost in their own melancholy thoughts.
* * *
Hermione slept fitfully for a few hours more. Madam Pomfrey popped her head in to check on her every once in a while, clearly wishing that Hermione had taken the potion beforehand.
Tossing and turning every few seconds, Hermione dreamed of strange scenes and distorted memories, most involving Ginny and Snape. She frequently moaned aloud, her distressed crying always bringing the rushing feet of Madam Pomfrey. It was very early in the morning when she awoke because of the sounds of hushed voices conversing outside her cubicle.
"She hasn't been well, Professor," said a voice that Hermione recognized as Madam Pomfrey's.
"Have you been able to run the test yet?" inquired a male voice that Hermione couldn't identify.
"No, she's been having nightmares. I was afraid to wake her fully."
Hermione thought she heard the man sigh. He whispered something incomprehensible, and after a pause in which Hermione strained to hear the rest of their talk, a door in the distance closed softly.
Hermione leaned back upon the pillows and tried to think clearly, but her brain felt like cotton candy. She realized that she must be in the Hospital Wing; she certainly was feeling ill. But what she couldn't understand was why. In fact, all she could remember was, strangely enough, watching a beam of green light hitting Ginny Weasley. It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense anymore; even as she thought about what it might have meant to have the green beam hit Ginny, she felt her concentration begin to dissolve like sugar in water.
She groaned; her head felt like it had been pounded with a lead cauldron. Her eyes slid in and out of focus, and she could not muster up the energy to ring the bell on her nightstand to call Madam Pomfrey. Instead, she rolled onto her side and pulled the covers over her head, thankful at the warmth the goose down provided in the chilly night.
The next time she awoke, she felt much more alert. Her sheets were drenched with sweat and her pillow was soaked with what appeared to be tears, and Hermione wondered why she had cried so hard. With a sickening jolt, the events of the Death Eater attack on Hogwarts appeared in her brain, and Hermione felt her stomach rolling in response to a gruesome image of Ginny's body. Without warning, Hermione retched and vomited the remnants of her dinner onto the wet sheets.
Shivering, she reached out a cold hand and rang the bell; a second later, Madam Pomfrey appeared with a group of House Elves at her heels. Before Hermione could say anything, they had lifted her a few inches off the mattress and changed the soiled sheets. As quickly as they had appeared, the Elves scampered out of the cubicle, leaving Hermione facing a morning-haired Madam Pomfrey.
"Well, my dear, I'm glad you're awake," Pomfrey said softly.
In response, Hermione could only grit her teeth and nod, as her head was throbbing too intensely to think of an appropriate response.
Madam Pomfrey reached under the nightstand and pulled out a clean glass, into which she poured the contents of another small bottle atop the table. "Drink this," she said soothingly. "It will help."
She placed her hands behind Hermione's shoulders and helped her sit up enough to drink. Hermione cautiously sipped the potion and gagged silently; with the taste of bile still fresh in her mouth, the potion tasted especially foul.
Madam Pomfrey continued to hold her as she slowly forced down the potion. She noticed how clammy Hermione's nightgown felt, and immediately put her hand to Hermione's forehead to feel for a fever. She almost gasped aloud when she felt the heat radiating off of Hermione's head; the child was burning up. She reached into her robes and pulled out a Fever- Reducing Potion, then again forced Hermione to gulp down the vile concoction.
Hermione immediately felt better; true, she was still very much sick, but at least her headache was disappearing. She exhaled softly and looked up at Madam Pomfrey's tired face. "I think I'll sleep some more now," she muttered quietly. Madam Pomfrey nodded and pulled the covers over her shoulders, then exited the cubicle.
Madam Pomfrey quickly surveyed the Hospital Wing. Although it was especially crowded with the injured students from last night's drama, nearly all of the children were asleep. Weighing the choices, she finally slipped a robe over her nighttime outfit and left the wing.
When she arrived outside the Headmaster's office, she realized that in the rush of healing all night long she had forgotten the password. Looking at the stone gargoyle, she sent it her most pleading look. Feeling utterly ridiculous, she silently bargained with the statue, promising to give him a good cleaning if he would just let her in to see the Headmaster, and-
She broke off her mental speech when the Headmaster himself came down the moving stairs, looking very grim and tired. He spotted Madam Pomfrey staring at the gargoyle with a look of relief upon her face, and for a moment he allowed himself to feel amused. But the feeling passed almost instantaneously, and Madam Pomfrey began to speak to him before he could even ask why she was desperate to talk to him at five in the morning.
"It's Hermione Granger, Headmaster, she's contracted a fever, and I'm afraid it will worsen into something very serious with her magical reserves so dreadfully low...."
Professor Dumbledore nodded and began to walk towards the stairs with Pomfrey wringing her hands at his sides. "Has she said anything to you at all?" he inquired.
Pomfrey shook her head. "No sir, she has been asleep mostly, but she's been having nightmares."
Dumbledore sighed heavily. "I surmised as much."
"What should we do?" Madam Pomfrey sounded a bit panicked as she asked this.
Dumbledore gave her one of his famous stares and said with finality, "We wait. We wait and see what happens. There are only so many potions for this kind of thing."
After a pause in which Madam Pomfrey phrased her next question carefully, she asked hesitantly, "Have you any idea why she's like this?"
Dumbledore didn't answer for almost a full minute. When he did reply, his voice seemed to reflect the suffering and toil of a lifetime's worth of battling a ubiquitous opposing force; it was cracking and gave Madam Pomfrey a start, as she had never heard the Headmaster speak like this. "I have many ideas, but I fear that we must wait until she is well before I can prove any of them."
Madam Pomfrey fell silent until they passed by the Hospital Wing door. Clearing her throat, she bade the Headmaster farewell and slipped quietly inside.
Dumbledore, however, continued on down the stairs towards the dungeons. Idly he toyed with his wand; he barely noticed when the drunken witch in a painting on the wall screamed an obscenity at him. Coming to his desired door, he calmly lifted a hand and knocked, calling, "Severus, I must speak with you."
* * *
Hermione awoke to the sounds of Harry and Ron having a whispered debate outside her enclosure. Panting slightly with the effort, she sat up and called out in a scratchy voice, "Guys, you can come in. I'm awake."
Her best friends' faces came into view; Hermione was startled to see tear streaks on Ron's cheeks. Harry didn't look any better; there were hollows under his eyes and his mouth kept twitching uncomfortably.
The boys sat down at the edge of her bed and avoided making eye contact with Hermione. At first she figured that it was because she must look like a mess, but their silence continued for a full five minutes. Hermione was beginning to get annoyed. "Well, did you come here to inspect the paint job and floor tiles, or do you want to see me?" she asked dryly.
Harry was the first to turn an anguished gaze to her defiant eyes. "We came," he said hoarsely, "To see you."
"Well, are you going to say anything or ask me anything?" Hermione replied scathingly.
Ron looked up at the sound of her icy voice. Hermione met his gaze and held it steadily for a few moments. Ron stared back as long as he could, but to Hermione's horror, his eyes began to tear up and he had to jerk his head away. Harry also turned his head.
With a sigh, Hermione sank back against the pillows and inspected her nails. The trio sat in stony silence for another few minutes, when Harry and Ron abruptly leaped off the bed and fled the cubicle, Ron wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffing
Really, Hermione thought scornfully as she closed her eyes, what does he have to be so broken up over? It's not like Pigwidgeon died-
With a gasp, Hermione's eyes flew open and her hands began to shake. You moron, her brained screamed, Ginny!
Images flashed before Hermione's eyes once more; the white curtains before her bed became a movie screen for pictures of Death Eaters, Ginny, and her own small form: the memory of Ginny being hit in the back with the Killing Curse playing over and over in her mind like some sort of horror film. The pictures swirled around her and threatened to empty her stomach again. Squeezing her eyes shut, Hermione gripped the sides of the bed and willed them to leave her in peace. Hastily, she grabbed the bottle of Dreamless Sleep Potion off the nightstand and emptied the entire vial into her mouth. With a shudder, she fell into a coma-like sleep, and the bottle rolled out of her hand and smashed onto the floor.
Madam Pomfrey heard the glass break and came rushing to Hermione's bed. She nearly swore when she saw the empty bottle and the dead expression upon Hermione's face, but she sighed in resignation and gently smoothed Hermione's wild hair away from her face. Well, at least she had a reason to OD, thought Pomfrey, because students have done that for a lot less than what she will have to deal with. She soundlessly left the cubicle.
* * *
It was nearly twenty hours later when Hermione awoke. She guessed that it was nearly midnight and turned her head towards the clock hanging on the opposite wall, then winced: Her headache was back with a vengeance. As her eyes became adjusted to the darkened ward, she noticed a rather large book sitting on her table. Funny, Hermione thought, I've never seen that one before. She reached blindly around for the book and instead felt a small piece of parchment sitting atop the tome. Eagerly she opened it, but her heart began to beat erratically as she skimmed the letter.
Dear Miss Granger,
I am sure you are curious about your current physical state, and as recent events have come into play, I feel that it would be wrong to deny you the information which you undoubtedly would like to know. While you were sleeping, I myself performed a diagnostic charm on you and was rather startled by the results. However, that was more than a day ago, and I have decided to be frank with you regarding the results of the test. I do not wish to alarm you, but as soon as you are feeling better, we must have a serious talk. In the meantime, I suggest that you read the bookmarked page in the book on your table; it may answer some of your questions.
Sincerely,
Professor Dumbledore
Hermione gulped audibly and reached again for the book. Heaving it upon her knees, she opened the dusty cover and flipped through the pages, trying to find the bookmark. As soon as she began to read the page she was on, which was entitled "Ressurection and its Symptoms," the pages began to turn at their own accord, The sheets stopped flipping at a page towards the end of the book, and the words which were "bookmarked" emitted a warm yellow glow; the rest of the page became dark and unreadable. Heart thumping frantically, Hermione looked at the page and read:
Of the many less-studied areas of modern magic, none is more illusive and dangerous than the édification noire, first named by the French wizard Claude Rousseu de Champagne. One who possesses this power of said to be "éclairé(e)" or "enlightened." Occurrences of this gift appear less than one percent every three generations, so very little is known about what it is and why is happens. However, those few who have studied it have reached several conclusions that, while incomplete, have recently provoked and interest about édification noire among several wizard researchers:
1) Those who are granted such a power are most often male; in the entire history of the wizarding world, only two witches are known to have possessed the gift: the legendary Rowena Ravenclaw, and her great-granddaughter Claire Paturia.
2) Those with the gift are usually not identified until they have performed feats that are far too advanced in subjects, namely Charms, that are beyond their level of power at the time of the revealing.
3) It has been noted that often trauma and stresses of unreasonable proportions have "triggered" the onset of édification noire.
At this statement, Hermione paused. If trauma caused it, then why wasn't Harry éclairé also? He certainly had been through some difficult situations. With a shrug, Hermione read on and made a mental note to research that point further.
4) While it remains to be proven, it is generally accepted that édification noire causes a person to become more susceptible to the lure of Dark magic. In contrast, it is also stereotyped that if trained properly, an éclairé(e) will become a powerful foe to a Dark wizard.
The entry ended there. Hermione shut the book and leaned back against her bed, suddenly dizzy. Merlin, she thought, I've really done it now, huh?
* * *
Meanwhile, Dumbledore was busy drafting a letter to the only person that he felt could help him with Hermione's newfound condition. Glancing at the dying embers of the fire, he hastily reread the letter:
Dear Julius,
I fear that I require your assistance on a matter of some urgency. A student of mine has just displayed the signs of being éclairée. Yes, it is a girl: Hermione Granger. She is a brilliant student, loyal friend, and she is planning to study Arithmancy at Oxford. You know as well as I that given the current state of affairs in the Wizarding world, to not harness her powers would be unthinkable.
Therefore, I ask that you come within the next week and meet Miss Granger. It will undoubtedly be a shock for her, but she is young and strong, and I have no doubt that she will accept the challenges that await in her future with grace and maturity.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Sighing, Dumbledore placed his quill on the desk and rubbed tiredly at his temples. Fawkes was away hunting; he would send him off with the letter when he returned.