Thanks to my beta Coarzon for her extremely prompt, overnight response.
Chapter 5: Décider
Hermione walked slowly back up to the Gryffindor dorms. The halls are unusually quiet, she noted blandly. Maybe Dumbledore's keeping them inside at night.
When she reached the fat lady's portrait, she paused for a second before clearing her throat loud enough to wake the snoozing guardian. "Password?" the fat lady asked while trying to conceal a yawn.
"Er...." Hermione didn't know the current password. She decided to take the risk and try the one that had been in use before her hospital stay. "Unicorn Horn?"
Was it just her, or did the fat lady look a bit alarmed at her guess? "No, I'm sorry. That is incorrect. You may not enter." With that, the fat lady gave Hermione one last glare before she calmly walked out of her portrait.
Hermione backed up against the wall and sank to the floor. She closed her eyes, but the headache pounding behind her forehead only seemed to become stronger, swimming with the swirling colors on her eyelids. She tried to breathe deeply, but again, her lungs seemed intent on depriving her of any oxygen that might help her think clearly. Sighing heavily, Hermione opened her eyes and looked down the darkened corridor. Blinking to get the flashes of light to disappear from her vision, she nearly had a heart attack when she saw three figures, all clad in dark robes, hurrying down the hallway straight towards her spot on the stone floor. Crikey, she thought, what have I done now?
Snape, McGonagall, and Dumbledore's faces came into view as they neared Hermione. Trying to avoid eye contact, Hermione glanced at the portrait frames lining the corridor and was mildly surprised to see the fat lady hurrying along beside the professors, looking rather pleased with herself. When the group was no less than three feet from Hermione's crouched form, she suddenly stood up, her shadow throwing the teachers into a sheet of darkness that startled them into drawing their wands. Snape was the first to break the tense silence. "Who's there?" he asked with a hint of warning.
For a brief moment, Hermione considered remaining quiet, just to see what they would do. But her good side won over, and she answered meekly, "It's me... Hermione."
The professors looked at each other and slowly lowered their wands. "Miss Granger," said McGonagall with a nervous little chuckle, "What are you doing here?"
Hermione tried to formulate an appropriate response. Hastily she glanced at the fat lady, who was now sitting comfortably again in her own portrait, eying her with a smug grin. "I... I didn't know the password..."
"You see, professors? She was trying to break in. The little Death Eater must have come back for an encore, I think-"
"You thought wrong," Snape cut in bitterly. "Really, this makes the third false alarm this week. I'm getting quite sick of these little nighttime scares. Headmaster," he turned to Dumbledore, "what should we do?"
Dumbledore looked at Snape, and Hermione could have sworn she saw his eyes twinkle a bit. "Do, Severus?" he asked mildly. "Well, for starters, we should give Miss Granger the password and let her get some sleep-"
Snape interrupted. "That's another thing. Where was she, when all the other students have been given express orders not to leave the common rooms after sundown?" He glared down at Hermione. "Was she, perhaps, wandering the halls in search of something?" he asked in a whisper.
"That is none of your concern, Severus," Dumbledore said firmly. Snape turned his head and looked at the Headmaster, clearly wishing to take points off from Gryffindor for Hermione's inability to give a plausible explanation. That's no surprise, thought Hermione with a bitter inward laugh. With all the students in the dorms, he has no one to give detentions to when he patrols.
Snape backed away from Hermione. Still glaring at the Headmaster, he put his wand back in his robes and folded his arms across his chest. Dumbledore turned back to McGonagall. "Minerva, if you would please take Miss Granger inside?"
"Of course, Professor. Come along, Miss Granger. Gillyweed," she said briskly. The fat lady sighed deeply and swung open. Hermione climbed into the hole and was about to walk away from the trio of teachers in the hallway when a quiet voice made her turn around. "Good night, Miss Granger," said Dumbledore. He and McGonagall turned and swished away down the hallway, leaving Snape and Hermione staring at each other through the portrait hole. They remained staring at each other for a long moment, and Hermione felt an oddly familiar sensation begin to build up in her chest- something that reminded her all too much of the feeling right before she lost control of the light in the Great Hall. Hermione nearly shivered under Snape's harsh gaze, then, as she was about to say something, the portrait swung closed, leaving a very relieved Hermione to face the rest of her peers, alone.
* * *
As Hermione turned away from the blank back of the portrait, she found that nearly everyone in Gryffindor was standing around the common room. That would not have been so unusual, Hermione thought frantically, if they weren't all staring at me. Merlin help me, she found herself praying. Well, what did you expect? her brain screamed. They haven't seen you for a long time now. Of course they're acting weird.
Hermione stood still, gazing around the room. It would not have been so bad for her shy public self had the students greeted her with open arms. But the group in front of her could not have contrasted more with that happy image. Every single person was staring at her intently, hatred written in every eye. Hermione was momentarily stunned by the sight of Neville Longbottom, who was standing closest to her and displaying perhaps the most disgusted look of them all.
As if controlled by an invisible force, the crowd parted swiftly and allowed her a glimpse of the fireplace, where, to Hermione's immense dismay, sat Harry and Ron. Their chairs were facing the fireplace and Hermione could not see their faces, but they were sitting up ramrod-straight and could not have looked more conspicuous in the silent room than if they had been breakdancing on the coffee tables. Hesitantly, Hermione took a few steps towards the hearth, and the crowd shifted slightly to accommodate her. The students seemed eager to keep a respectable distance from Hermione, so although the room was packed to bursting, Hermione didn't even brush up against anyone.
A lump formed in Hermione's throat as she neared Harry and Ron's turned chairs. She froze. Her head was spinning; she couldn't possibly deal with this now. She stopped moving, not three feet from her friends but entirely too close for her current liking. As she tried to get a grip on her racing heart, the two boys began to turn around. Hermione watched in horror as their stoic faces came into view. The fire behind them threw their faces into a deep shadow, so their features seemed distorted and exaggerated, almost to the point of being comical. But to Hermione, they simply looked like the leaders of the lynch mob of students. Being boys, they towered over her; Hermione felt like a mouse to their lions. She couldn't take it anymore. The faces, the stillness, it was all too much. Turning abruptly and almost tripping over a stray textbook, she ran towards the dormitory stairs and didn't pause to look back.
Hermione half hopped, half stumbled up the staircase. She didn't bother to look where she was going, and thus ran straight into a very large object on the landing. "Oomph! Oh... Oh my..."
A very rumpled, very tired looking Mrs. Weasley gazed down at Hermione, who was lying on the floor and muttering incoherently. Without so much as offering a hand to help her up, the tired woman simply continued down the stairs. As Hermione struggled to sit up, she nearly had her head taken off by a large wooden trunk that whooshed over her body and proceeded to follow Mrs. Weasley down the stairs. Hermione thought vaguely of Mrs. Weasley's rule about not using magic on trunks when transporting down the stairs, but the thought was pushed out of her mind as a pair of thin legs stepped over her body and proceeded to follow Mrs. Weasley down the staircase. Hermione craned her neck to see who the legs belonged to, and was mildly shocked to find that Mr. Weasley, looking especially disheveled, had walked right past her without so much as a nod of acknowledgment. Fighting back the tears that had threatened to spill since after her run-in with the teachers in the hallway, Hermione pulled herself to her feet and walked slowly to her room. Upon opening the door, she found the entire dormitory empty. Without even pausing to wonder why, Hermione collapsed on her bed and pulled her hangings closed, muffling her sobs into her pillow.
Her roommates didn't show up all night. Hermione lay still for a long time, far into the wee hours of the morning, staring blankly into the darkness and wondering whether this blatant hostility would be temporary.
* * *
Hermione was seriously considering skipping breakfast, but the thought of spending any more time in her deserted room was too much to bear. In truth, she was starved for social interaction; she wanted to talk to someone, anyone, and get rid of this nagging feeling that the entire world hated her guts. So she dressed quickly and made her way through the empty corridors towards the Great Hall.
At first, Hermione had a fleeting feeling that perhaps today wouldn't be such a disaster. As in her potions class the day before, no one really noticed her when she first stepped through the doors. Too bad they can't just ignore me, thought Hermione, as the entire school seemed to turn their heads in one swift movement, leaving Hermione cowering under their scowls.
Looking down at the floor, Hermione slid into a seat at the Gryffindor table, careful not to look up at anyone. She pretended not to notice when a group of third-years who had been sitting across from her abruptly got up and left in silence. She could still feel the glares of the other students on her back, although their conversations has resumed to some degree. Still, even the normal breakfast chatter was muted; it was rather like someone had turned the volume of the entire room down a few notches.
Hermione looked at the heaps of food lining the table before her, and immediately felt sick at the thought of putting any of it in her stomach. Instead, she poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice and held it in tow hands, raising it to her lips every few seconds and trying not to scream.
An eternity passed; Hermione was afraid to get up, yet she didn't want to stay there a moment longer. After finally gathering enough courage, Hermione stood up quietly and slipped out the door. No one even noticed her leaving.
An immense feeling of relief washed over her as she made her way down the corridor. Turning her head back towards the hall to prove to herself that she really had escaped, Hermione ran headfirst into a very solid object and winced as two strong arms caught her before she fell to backwards to the floor.
"Miss Granger," Professor Snape hissed, "Will you please watch where you're going!"
"Sorry, sir," Hermione muttered.
She tried to move around him and continue down the hallway, but Snape didn't seem to want to move. Finally Hermione looked up at him and was startled by the expression of.... Well, she didn't know how to name that expression, because she had definitely never seen it on Snape before. It was extremely unnerving, seeing the man with something other than a scowl plastered on his sallow face.
"Miss Granger," Snape said, "Professor Dumbledore wishes to see you this morning before you go to Charms. He is waiting for you in his office now."
Hermione nodded and turned in the opposite direction from which she had been coming from. She restrained herself from breaking into a solid sprint to get away from this peculiar Snape. Instead, she trotted along at a light jog, not noticing that Snape had not left the spot where she had run into him. Had she turned around, perhaps she would have had a heart attack, for Snape, the "greasy git," was grinning openly in the most nefarious was possible.
* * *
Hermione knocked timidly on Dumbledore's door after climbing the spiral staircase, wanting to be anywhere but there at the present moment. Unfortunately for her nerves, Dumbledore answered promptly and practically had to push her into a chair by his desk; Hermione's feet seemed to have forgotten how to walk.
"My dear, I do wish you'd stop getting so distraught when I simply ask to speak to you," Dumbledore said with a sigh. Hermione didn't say anything, so Dumbledore went on. "As I told you yesterday, my friend Mr. Nye wishes to meet you. He is making a special appointment during his busy schedule to come here and see you."
Hermione's eyes widened, and her heart started beating uncomfortably against her ribs. No, he can't come here, she thought. Dumbledore had said that this Mr. Nye, whoever he was, was éclairé also. Seeing him would make this whole nightmare seem all too real for Hermione, who was not used to being under so much pressure. True, Dumbledore had not made her commit to any course of action yet, but just being back in the school with the other students was a trial in itself. Hermione wasn't sure how much more trauma she could take.
The minutes ticked by slowly. Dumbledore once again busied himself preparing tea, and Hermione watched an owl fly around outside the window. Without warning, the fireplace glowed green, and in a cloud of ashes a man clad in a black trench coat and what appeared to be black suede leather cowboy boots calmly stepped out and surveyed the office. Hermione could only gape.
"Albus, old friend!" the man exclaimed in a booming voice that Hermione could have sworn shook the fragile glass objects on Dumbledore's desk. The Headmaster didn't seem to mind though. He strode over to this oddly-dressed man and offered his hand. "It's good to see you again, Juilius," he replied with a smile. "Please, come sit down. Tea will be ready in a moment."
Mr. Nye took a chair close to Hermione, and she was able to get a good look at him. Immediately her mind jumped to a long-buried picture in a muggle magazine, one that depicted a hawk perched on the arm of a scientist. The resemblance was rather startling. Nye had the same kind of beaky nose, and his eyes didn't seem to blink at all. But his most prominent feature was undoubtedly his eyebrows. They were thick and bushy, like woolly caterpillars, and they were as black as a raven feather. Hermione was forcibly reminded of a Russian she had studied in primary school, but whose name she couldn't remember for a frustrating moment until finally is surfaced in her mind: Brezhnev. Hmmm, she thought, I wonder if he's Russian...
She was snapped out of her speculation when Nye, whose back had been facing Hermione, suddenly turned around and settled his unblinking gaze on her. "And you must be Miss Hermione Granger," he said in that same booming voice. Hermione gave a minute nod. "Well, it's a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Granger. Ah, may I call you Hermione?" Again, she nodded.
Dumbledore had by then finished preparing the tea, and he settled the tray on the desk before settling himself in the chair behind it. Perhaps out of habit, he folded his hands on the desk, and Hermione was slightly reassured by this familiar gesture. Dumbledore turned to Mr. Nye, who was busy pouring some tea over what looked like half a glass full of sugar. "So Julius, after you deplete my supply of sugar, would you care to talk to Miss Granger and myself? We still have some issues to clear up."
Mr. Nye took a swig of his drink, which now resembled a thick sort of syrup, and nodded. "I'll be happy to answer any questions you have."
Dumbledore eyed the man with just a hint of distaste. "Well Julius, you've seen the pensieve. What do you think?"
Nye lowered his teacup. "She's definitely an éclairée. There's no doubt about that." Hermione felt her stomach sink at this phrase. She had been so hopeful that it was all a big mistake, that she wasn't special after all, that everyone was acting strange around her because she had bad breath, not because she had really killed Ginny Weasley....
Both Dumbledore and Nye turned to look at her as these thoughts echoed through her brain. Hermione's eyes widened; once again, she felt unsafe in her own mind, because obviously Nye was a Legilemens also. The two men quickly glanced away, and Hermione ordered herself to control her thoughts.
Dumbledore cleared his throat and delicately took a sip of tea. "As I was saying, we still have some questions. First of all, you agree that she needs to be trained properly?" Nye nodded in earnest. "Well, if that's the case, we need to know what that training would entail, how long it would take, that sort of thing."
Nye thought for a moment before answering. "I'd first like to spend some time with Hermione over the summer, getting to know her and assessing her abilities. Of course, she'll have to take her N.E.W.T.s to be admitted to Barnabie in the fall, but I received her transcript; she's smart enough to handle N.E.W.T. material."
Hermione felt something like a lead weight slide into her stomach. "Professor," she said quickly, "I could do the N.E.W.T.s now, but I really don't think there's enough time, what with all my classes and other work..."
Dumbledore waved his hand. "My dear, if you choose this path, you will be exempt from your normal classes. I myself can teach you if it means getting you through the exams properly. Please continue, Julius."
"After the summer, you would enter Barnabie as a full-time student. You'd keep all your regular courses, but you'd essentially be specializing in one particular area, which of course would be under my supervision-"
Hermione interrupted. "Mr. Nye, sir, I am still unclear about what this éclairée thing is. I mean," she added hastily, for Nye's piercing eyes had landed on her again, "I want to know what I would be learning about and... things like that," she finished lamely.
Nye didn't seem to know what to say. "Yes, I can see the problem," he muttered to himself. "You don't know the extent of what you can do..." Clearing his throat, he turned back to Hermione and said seriously, "You're muggle- born? Have you any recollection of seeing any of the Star Wars movies?"
Hermione was baffled by this question, and Dumbledore was downright lost. However, she nodded and both allowed Nye to continue. "Well, you can think of édification noire as something very similar to 'The Force' in those movies. Of course, those movies are entirely fictional, but the basic premise of édification noire is the same. Basically, it means that you are more in touch with yourself and your powers than your peers, and you are thus better able to harness outside forces when you need them. Take, for example, what happened the day of the Death Eater attack. You summoned extra power in order to save your friend. Remember what that power looked like? It looked like black light, didn't it? Well, that light was the extra force you were using. The very phrase 'édification noire' means 'black enlightenment.'"
Neither Hermione nor Dumbledore said anything after this extraordinary explanation. Hermione was the first to break the pause. "So... So this power... This édification noire... Why me?" she blurted out finally.
Nye sighed. "No one knows why some people receive the gift. If it not like anything else in the magical world. It is not transmitted through bloodlines, nor can it be learned. It simply exists where it does, without any sort of pattern or logic. It is something I have been trying to figure out for a long time."
"So what would I be learning it Barnabie?" Hermione asked.
"Like I said, you'd continue to take all your courses. Your schedule would be something like four hours of regular classes in the morning, then lunch, then four hours of training with me. You would have less homework in your other classes, and a bit more from me. You must keep in mind that Barnabie is not a school for the general wizard public; it is for only those students who have displayed extraordinary talents in specific areas of study. Each student studies privately under the supervision of a staff member."
"How many pupils have you had?" asked Hermione.
"Actually, I've not taught any of the students. You'd be my first," said Nye with a bit of an apologetic smile.
"So you've never taught anyone, yet you want me leave Hogwarts and study with you?" Hermione asked incredulously.
"Just because I've never taught another person, Hermione, does not mean that I am an incompetent teacher. How do you think I learned to be an éclairé in the first place?" Nye asked, but without any sort of sneer in his voice.
"You mean to say," Hermione said in wonder, "that you taught yourself?"
"Yes, but only because there was no one else to teach me. If you come study with me, you won't face any of the difficulties or, ah, accidents that I had to endure as I developed my power."
Hermione looked at Dumbledore, who was watching Nye closely. "Professor, what should I do?" she asked, her voice strangely higher than normal.
"Miss Granger, I told you yesterday that I think it would be foolish not to take this chance while you have it. If you choose to stay at Hogwarts, I will be delighted, of course, but if you choose to go with Nye, I will be ecstatic. Nothing could be better for you right now."
Hermione looked away. It made sense, really it did. But the thought of leaving Hogwarts even a minute before she had to was almost unbearable. However, other things were weighing on Hermione's mind also. She thought of Harry and Ron and their stony silence towards her since she had been in the Hospital Wing. She thought of the other students and how they seemed intent on shunning her into oblivion. She thought of the Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and how they too seemed angry at her. And she thought of Ginny and how her own uncontrolled power had led to the tragic death of her friend. The idea of causing another death due to her inability to control herself finally tipped Hermione's mind over the edge.
"I'll go to Barnabie," Hermione said resolutely. "I'll become a properly trained éclairée, and I'll help Harry fight Voldemort."
Dumbledore gave her a pleased grin. "Congratulations, Miss Granger. I know we can expect wonderful things from you in the future."
Nye cleared his throat. "Well, if that's all, Albus, I'd best be going now."
"Certainly, certainly," said Dumbledore. "I will contact you soon"
Nye nodded his approval. He faced Hermione and said with the air of one giving a funeral oration, "I look forward to working with you, Hermione. I shall see you soon. Good luck on your tests. Oh, here's something that might come in helpful." He pulled a shiny Time-Turner out of his coat pocket and placed it in Hermione's hand. "Now you'll have all the time you need. And don't worry, your Ministry can't trace it; it's mine. Take care." With that, he grabbed a pinch of Floo powder and stepped into the fireplace, calling, "Barnabie Institute, Nye's office!" He disappeared in a swirl of green flame, and Hermione tucked the tiny hourglass under her robes, a silent promise to herself that she would see this through until the end.