Once again the disclaimer:  I bow in awe of J.K. Rowling genius.  All characters and things in the Harry Potter world are hers. Please do not sue me.  I make no money and you would undoubted piss readers off if you delay in continuing the saga as we anxiously await your next book.  I have cited other fan fiction articles which have inspired me to incorporate their ideas in this story as well.  I encourage you to read them.  Please read and review. Thanks~ Leyna

Chapter 11: Unlocking the Bewitched Mind

Hermione had many premonitions over the course of the last year but one compelled action from her above the others. There was a particular dream that appeared to require immediate attention. One individual, one sleeper, who had slipped under the radar needed to be freed. She was sure of it. Hermione was distressed at the thought of her previous lack of respect for her. Hermione's abilities should have at least translated into some appreciation for a woman who could not possibly conceal her talent with spells and discipline.

She had suffered and lost much of her life in protecting the wizarding world. A sacrifice that had been entirely unmentioned. Hermione went to Dumbledore first.

She still thought the Headmaster possessed a great amount of knowledge, but while he was very intuitive, he was not omniscient.

"Do you want me to release her?"

"Hermione, you're going to need to give me more to go on than that." She was embarrassed, once again eight years old in front of the great Albus Dumbledore. A wise wizard, he was just a man, and a wonderful leader. "I would suggest, however, that if you wish to 'free' someone, that you ask her if she wishes to be freed." He spelled out the logic which in it's simplicity had escaped her as an option to consider.

"We need to have Harry here, and Professor Snape." Them being both men, Dumbledore wondered who the 'prisoner' was. Hermione left and told the Headmaster she would return.

After another apology and a brief cryptic request, the divination teacher followed Hermione into the Headmaster's office. Professor Snape looked curt as if he had been interrupted, he was seated to the left of the Headmaster's desk. Harry was in a chair to the right.

"May I ask why we are here Miss Granger?"  Snape drawled out, daring to speak aloud what Harry and Dumbledore were too polite to vocalize.

"You are here to support your peer,"  Hermione threw back at him.  That shut him up.  Pay attention.

Trelawney was a fortune teller in the most formulaic sense. She had managed over the past sixteen years to have precious few visions, and several of those may have been witnessed by no one. The majority of her time was spent gazing into a crystal balls, composing astrological charts, and inhaling enormous quantities of incense and perfume. Dumbledore had hired her and shielded her inside of Hogwarts to protect her from the threats of the wizarding community. Possibly, her most significant premonition had been during a poor job interview for the divination post. She was hired.  But Hermione had been mistaken, they all had underestimated her, she was no fraud.

Hermione gestured for Professor Sibyll Trelawney to sit in a small chair opposite her, facing Hermione. She was apprehensive already, her hands trembling and nervousness obvious on her face.  Sibyll started in her chair as Hermione took her hands.

"Wh-what are you doing?" she pulled back defensively.

The young student looked into her eyes, and requested calmly and reassuringly. "I have seen you trapped a long, long time. I regret my not noticing it before. I want to help you. I am confident we can help you with this burden. Do you want to free yourself of it?"

Snape and Harry looked on in bewilderment. Free her from what? Dumbledore hadn't explained.

"Oh my God." Her heart pounded, eyes wide with fear, shaking her head in disbelief.  Oh God,  you can't. I'm not ready.  You can't know…

Hermione held her gaze as the others stared on in shock. "You weren't alone before, and you aren't alone now. You can do this. But I won't force you." Hermione release her hands laying them on her knees.

The older woman reached for them, grasping them tightly like a lifeline. "How did you know?" She asked in a choked whisper, the tightly wound, trapped memories slowly unraveling in her subconscious.

Long story. "Are you ready?" Hermione smiled at her with reassurance and gave her hands a squeeze.

A shaky yes came from the divination teacher. Hermione and Sibyll closed their eyes and connected. Their hands clasped firmly they shared the vision of the day Lily Potter had helped Sibyll Trelawney, a recluse, to block her thoughts, assuming the role of an incompetent witch in place of the formidable out-of-control Seer she had been.

The woman doubled over in a kind of trance and began to chant heavily…

"The woman who is bound to earth will become…"

Hermione pushed her back with force of mind, shutting her up. Sibyll chair tipped back and all three wizards stood straight up. "Sibyll, you can do this. Professor Snape and Dumbledore can help you."

Snape and Dumbledore looked on in wonderment as they witnessed Hermione's expanded range of gifts which she had kept to herself before. Harry had already known a bit, but Hermione wanted him to keep her secrets.

"Lily tried to help me." Harry was stunned. Professor Trelawney had known his mother.

"Lily needed help, and she was so young herself." Hermione spoke with intimate knowledge.

"You're a Seer!" Comprehension dawned on her. "You're the last person I thought..."

"I'm sorry I disrespected you in class. I didn't understand." Hermione paused, "I know how they haunt you—the visions." Hermione remembered her dreams about Rose and held back pained tears. "You can master your emotions. If you learn Occlumency you can shut those voices out, not entirely, but they won't have the hold on you they do now. You'll be in control. You won't prophesize aloud unless you wish it. That's why you went into hiding isn't it?"

She nodded. "Lily Evans found me. She overheard me one day in Diagon Alley. I had run into a side passage because I could feel one coming on. She knew I was scrambling for privacy and Lily cast a silencing charm on me. She helped me in a way, but I was just avoiding the inevitable instead of facing it like I should have."  Sibyll silently cried as she processed the years of her shunned existence.  She had used the incense filled tower she called her classroom to protect her from the torment of prophesy, and preventing her from making any real contribution to the wizarding world since her last premonition.

Anyone in her position would have fled in fear of that responsibility. She needed support and encouragement. "We're at war, Sibyll. We need you." Dumbledore spoke up. "You can decide how best to use your gifts."

The professor then noticed Harry like she was seeing him for the first time. We are at war, the effort needs me. Lily. Her son needs me. "Oh, Harry," she ran to him and embraced him. "I have much to tell you."

She held him at arms length and took the chair behind her sitting opposite him. "A Seeing gift is a terribly rare thing. Many would consider it a curse. Can you imagine, if everyone knew you were a Seer they would run to you for everything…life, death, grades, predictions about love? Then they would be furious with you for not being able to change their future. Your mother was lucky, she kept her talents a secret. I'm the only one she ever told."

"My mother was a Seer?" Hermione's face revealed no surprise as Harry looked at his sister.

Professor Trelawney nodded gravely . "I suspect she even foretold her own death. She couldn't prevent the future. But she knew how to protect you, Harry. She couldn't prevent it from happening, but she protected you."

The group discussed Professor Trelawney's needs. She often began prophesizing without warning and about all manner of grave subjects: Death Eaters, dementors, giants, and of course Voldemort. Therefore, Dumbledore suspended her briefly from teaching classes so she could live in a remote part of the castle.

Professor Snape and Dumbledore would train her intensively during the summer in Occlumency. Hermione would assist her in organizing her thoughts, helping her feel the serenity and clarity that possessed Hermione when she meditated.

******

The rest of the semester flew by, and Hermione found herself sending a letter to her parents requesting to stay at Hogwarts for the summer term. Professor Snape had needed an assistant to keep his potions research on the Wolfsbane running while he guided Professor Trelawney. Hermione was grateful for the opportunity to assist him. She would be able to pursue an important offshoot of that study. Hermione wanted to discover a cure for vampirism. She also wanted to further explore her journey into elemental magic. As long as she was at school, she could practice and study. Besides, she was still plagued by the feeling that Lucius Malfoy wanted to hurt her. Hogwarts was still the safest place to be.

After bonding with Harry, she noted the special ring that adorned her thumb. She rubbed it and it warmed her skin. She could feel Harry was safe. In studying the properties of the ring, Hermione became preoccupied by the charming of magical objects and talismans. She spent an enormous amount of time in the library and in addition to charm work, began studying ancient runes.  Her own necklace was created without magic as the wizarding world knew it, yet it was still filled with the power of her mother's people.  Runes covered the edges of the setting.  A single Chinese character was etched onto the face of the amber stone. The oval pendant at times appeared filled with a mysterious light.  According to her mother's diary, five generations of women had worn it.  She deduced the necklace was over 4000 years old.  It felt as ancient as it's history but it still possessed a new luster to it.  Each woman had created one to give to a person of her choosing.  Hermione was determined to create such an object. There were certain people who needed protection and this was something she could do covertly, a sweet secret that would be revealed in time. 

With Hermione's help and mental support, Professor Trelawney made excellent progress. She sat with her hand on Sibyll's arm in quiet support, lending her incredible control and confidence to the witch as Snape attempted to break into her mind. Frequently his casting would trigger a vocal premonition, but repeatedly Hermione silenced her, until she could do it herself. It was painful for him. Trelawney frequently had visions she didn't want him to see. She pushed hard at his mind leaving him with splitting headaches, not unlike Hermione. Her prophecies were spoken in a quieter voice now, and Trelawney could remember most of the content. Often she could stop herself in the middle of a prophecy and keep the rest to herself; this was the ultimate goal. Professor Snape had been amazingly patient with Sibyll, a lesson learned from tutoring Granger.

One weary evening in the dungeons, Hermione felt Snape staring at her.

"What is it? Is there something wrong?" She asked, abandoning her work.

"Of course not," he lied.

"You…Sibyll told you something didn't she?" Hermione's heart leapt into her chest. She had many secrets best not discovered yet.

He raised an eyebrow at her powers of deduction. "She told me," he said silkily, "that I would help you in some important way."

Seriously, Hermione said with an warm gaze, "You already have helped me, Severus."

He started at the sound of the informality in her speech. She gasped at her blunder and quickly apologized. "I'm sorry..."

"You do that to Professor Trelawney too. It is disrespectful. You will address me as 'Professor' or 'Sir', is that clear?" He spat out each word. The defenses were up.

"It's j-just when I…connect with someone I see them as they view themselves. Does that make sense? I don't see 'Professor Trelawney', I see Sibyll, like I've know her all my life. I've taken classes from you for years, and after meditation and Occlumency…"  The panicked girl was blushing and stammering.  Hermione had lost the cool collected attitude that had served her so well in the Room of Requirement.  One Legilimens and she'd be done for.

"You think you know me." He said icily.

"Of course not. But I broke into your mind just as you did mine," she said tersely. Then she relaxed her tone, "And after last year, if you will pardon me for saying so… it's hard not to think of you on as first name basis after that experience. I apologize, Professor."  God how will this ever work?  Thankfully he let the matter drop.  Snape wasn't an easy man to get to know.

He changed the subject. "How are you coming with the translation of that text?" They poured over the German manuscript. Their work on the lycanthropy cure and he was amazed at the depth of her understanding of the intricacies and interactions between potions ingredients, the chemical composition of plants and herbs, and the history behind potion making. She had gone out of her way to study various languages and was already fluent in Latin. He was impressed by her study of all branches of magic, both the Muggle sciences and wizarding ones, not just certain disciplines. She saw them as all connected to one another, a symphony of ideas. Studying potions meant that she would not just look at acceptable practices but also take concepts from dark magic and evaluate how they related to their current work. That alone impressed him; he'd imagined such a loyal and law-abiding Gryffindor would seal herself off from that branch of magic without acknowledging it's indisputable link to dark matters.

The promising student particularly studied the powers of blood in the vampire cure.  He didn't understand her fascination with such deadly and abhorrent creatures. First S.P.E.W. now this.  Merlin, did she have to save everyone? (Snape had ridiculed that idea, but tried to keep his opinions to himself, as he became surprised at the revelation of the usefulness of blood compounds in the Wolfsbane potion.) Her seventh year was coming up, and as her talents emerged he knew she was headed for a career in potions research. Against his previous reluctance to support such an idealist, he was already mentally writing her letter of recommendation for the MOM.

*****

Months later, Hermione succeeded with her charm work. She made a breakthrough in elemental magic one evening after a dream.

In the middle of the night, she crept out on the dark grounds. Barefoot, she padded in her nightgown over to the Quidditch field. She centered herself, feeling the wind about her, whipping the gauzy cotton about her legs. She bent low to the ground squatting, pushing her fingers into the soft dirt. She connected, and chanted low:

Earth.

Her long blonde-brown locks flew about her face as a wave of dirt, grass, and wind was sucked forward and across the field. The very atmosphere became a vacuum. 

She'd done it. Elemental magic. Just like her mother.

It wasn't just her. Other women could learn to do this. This could be something she teaches to her peers. To Ginny, to Sibyll, to Professor McGonagall, Molly Weasley. This could be her legacy in the fight against Voldemort. Imagine the unstoppable power of all witches then? Who could stand in the face of their will? Then with terror, she looked at the field. She could've destroyed everything with a thought. Destruction. She could've ripped the bleachers from their foundations. She sunk to her knees, her head in her hands.

It's easier to destroy than build.

Closing her eyes, the pendant warmed her chest and Hermione saw flashes of a woman who must have been Leyna Rountree. She stood naked, wild, on a grassy hill in the middle of a thunderstorm.  Her mother was a white light that pierced through gray emptiness. The fair woman bowed low and Hermione heard her song on the wind, the familiar chant praising the heavens and whispering to the blades of grass. She felt the raw power of that in her bones.

Hermione dashed across the field to the Herbology greenhouses. Taking a tiny seed from one of the rarer plants, she grabbed an empty pot and filled it with dirt. Burying the seed, she sprinkled water on the surface. She concentrated on the seeds power, then on her own. The shell of the seed was frail, and she imagined popping it like a balloon. She felt it tremble, then nothing. She was trying too hard. Too much force, not enough faith in seed's own power. It's not 'me' and 'it', we are connected. Nature is law unto itself.  I should feel privileged just to share that. She tried again, placing her hands on the sides of the pot. She imagined holding the delicate seed in her open palm. She meditated and felt the air around her, reached outward toward the sky and stars, and to the roots beneath her feet.  Tiny shoots burst forth from the soil, curling in tiny vines. She swelled with pride at her achievement and thanked the response of the plant. She replanted it at the front door of the greenhouse and used her fingers to guide the vine around the lattice outside. She adjourned to her quarters in reflection of the next steps toward growing an empowered community of witches.

Hermione regarded her face in her mirror examining her features before retiring to bed. She felt different, changed. More powerful, able to defend herself against the likes of Lucius Malfoy. She reached out of habit for her brush and lifted it to her head for the first of one hundred strokes. Oh. Her hair had lengthened a good ten inches. She remembered one of Sibyll's first prophecies since she woke. The woman who is bound to earth will become… become what?  Hermione was looking more and more like the painting of her mother every day.

In the shelter of her own plush bed, Hermione Granger felt the remains of the power she'd felt on the grounds, and then near the greenhouses.  It rippled through her, coursing in her veins.  Her face flushed as she lay there, pondering her own future:  what it meant to be her father's daughter and what her mother's people called her to do.  In the loneliness of her room, she searched for the comforting warmth promised by the mist of many dreams.  Fully awake, she allowed herself to be overcome by those frustrating emotions, once again the delightful waves of passion and anguish swept through her limbs and she yearned to feel him against her skin.  Staring into her soul, breathing on her skin, the velvet purr of his voice took her to a place most women never go. Horrible to torture herself this way, but unable to avoid dreaming of him any longer, she felt desire pulse through her skilled fingertips as she cried out for a man who wouldn't hear his name like that for years.

Somewhere in the recesses of the school a man shook unexpectedly from the heat of a dream not of his own making.  Like most fleeting dreams, he wouldn't remember anything except the sheer force of it.  He laid awake for two more hours while he tried in vain to recall the carnal thoughts that pleased him so.

The following morning all the staff were a buzz with Professor Sprout's tale of how, overnight, a rare variety of Chinese Wisteria had managed to creep all over the greenhouse with a showering of purple petals in clusters all over.

Hermione went with the other teachers to observe the phenomenon. When she had left it not five hours ago, it was a tiny sprout. Now it resembled an ancient vine, weaving it's fragrance in an out of the morning light. Her mouth formed an 'o' in her astonishment at the sight. Remarkable. Professor Trelawney gave a knowing look to Hermione. She knew. Dumbledore did not miss the exchanged glance.

Author's Notes:

Another excellent fanfic that explores the use of elemental magic belongs to Ramos004entitled Hinge of Fate it is also for a mature audience. Do yourself a favor and read it. Hinge of Fate by Ramos004 is posted on the www.designerpotions.com website and www.fanfiction.com