Disclaimer: Don't own a thing!
A/N: I know I left it at a bad place last chapter, sorry about that. I didn't want it getting too long since the rest of my chapters were pretty short. Also, I must explain to some of my reviewers who are a little peeved that none of this is like their real school. Well, I must admit that I do exaggerate a bit on the teachers, but do you know what? The beauty of writing is that I have the license to make the teachers any way I want. I mean, please, I really doubt your own school is exactly like Hogwarts. However, I do know a teacher or two that have drank Vodka out of a water bottle during classes. So who knows? Perhaps school is exactly like this? All we can do right now is believe…
Thanks to all my reviewers!
Chapter Four: Black Encounter
Hermione Granger walked as slow as she could on the way to Mr. Black's office, looking at the dull bulletin boards student congress was in charge of decorating. She wondered vaguely why she never joined Student Congress. Then she remembered she was never voted on when she ran. In the ninth grade she had braces and had big, frizzy hair. It was too late by the tenth grade after she discovered Frizz-Ease in all five easy steps, because by then she had developed a great loathing to any government dealing with school.
Oh, don't get her wrong, school is Hermione Anne Granger's life. There was no course available that she couldn't pass as top student, and there was never a day she forgot to do an assignment, even if it was a ridiculous paper totally off the subject to what they were supposed to be studying due to a recent hangover from the Potion Master. However, Hermione didn't agree on the concept of students allowing to vote when they only choose the girl with the blondest of hair and the biggest of boobs. Hermione was a late developer, so she started her own club; Future Dominators of America (FDA). She was voted president, and her sole member was her chief of staff (Draco Malfoy). She was very happy with the progress of her club, for they had recently wrote a letter to the President of the United States on how he was running the country, and how he should watch out, for one day a Granger and a Malfoy would one day reign - have a nice day. Though the President had yet to respond, they were waiting patiently for that fateful letter, and in the mean while were outlining a new note to John Frieda, the owner of Frizz-Ease hair products, and how he should run for President next election.
Hermione knocked on Mr. Black's door, and waited for the usual stream of interrogating questions that would penetrate the lining cracks of the metal barricade.
"Who's there?" Mr. Black's faint voice could be heard.
"It's Hermione Granger, Mr. Black," Hermione answered promptly. "You had scheduled an appointment so we could discuss my future once I graduate high school."
"Place your appointment slip into the slot." A mechanical noise could suddenly be heard, and a small tin tray penetrated from the door. Hermione dropped her yellow slip into the tray, and it immediately snapped back inside.
"When did you receive this?" Mr. Black went on.
"Yesterday during ninth period," Hermione said.
"Who is your ninth period teacher?"
"Mrs. Sprout."
"Can she vouch for you?"
"She's the one that gave me the slip."
"I need a clear yes or no answer, please."
"Yes," Hermione rolled her eyes.
An extended pause followed. Hermione guessed he was scanning the yellow piece of paper in search of any signs of forgery. It must have passed inspection, for there was a loud buzz and the door swung open.
"You may enter," Mr. Black called, however a bit unsurely.
Hermione stepped carefully in. She had been given guidance council appointments before, and knew perfectly well what you should and shouldn't do around Mr. Black. For starters, when first entering into the brightly lit room, take three steps then stop, allowing the metal door shut behind you and so Mr. Black could have a good at you as your eyes adjust to the extremely lit surroundings.
"Ah, Hermione Granger," Mr. Black finally said warmly. "Have a seat, why don't you?"
Hermione blinked the black spots out of her eyes and sat down in the wooden chair that was chained to the floor.
Rule number two: Speak warmly and friendly as to not provoke any rash actions, and so he'll begin to trust and not hit you upside the head with the metal pole he keeps hidden behind his desk.
"How are you doing today, Mr. Black?" Hermione asked, smiling at the black haired man.
Sirius Black lifted his chin to look at the girl over his nose. When Hermione kept smiling, he sat back a little more comfortably into his chain and tapped his fingers together gently in front of his face.
"I'm am doing quite well. And yourself?"
"Fine."
Mr. Black nodded. "Well then, now onto the real reason you're here - What's Hermione's favorite subject?" He barked out of no where, pointing a long shaking finger at Hermione's face, while the other hand lurked somewhere beneath his desk. Hermione sighed.
"Arithmancy," she delivered, knowing Black will continue to shout unexpected questions about the "real" Hermione Granger throughout the interview.
Mr. Black's eyes narrowed into slits before leaning back and tapping his fingers once more.
"So onto colleges," he went on as if nothing unusual and bizarre happened. "In my records from past meetings it says that you wish to become a member of Congress in future years. You still wish to be, correct?"
"Yes, but now I've decided to work for the Senate. I believe once I achieved that goal, I can work on my other goal on becoming vice president then eventually presidency-"
"What's Hermione's favorite color?" Mr. Black yelled with an insane glint in his pale eyes, pointing again at Hermione .
"Blue," Hermione said, forcing a tight smile that hurt her face.
Blacks eyes slit once more, before resuming his normal posture.
"So you want to work on presidency, is that correct?" He continued. "Why so? Wouldn't Ministress of Magic suffice just fine?"
"No, it wouldn't, Mr. Black," Hermione began, straightening in her chair, determination etched across her face. "The Ministress of Magic would only have limited power. I'd only have say of the Wizarding world. If I could become president -"
"What's Hermione's middle name?"
"Anne. If I could become president, I could introduce to the people that witches and wizards do exist and convince them to stop burning our people."
Mr. Black laughed nervously. "Ms. Granger, as hopeful as that may sound, it's all a bunch of high wishing that can only be dreams. Muggles will only see us as Satan worshiping scum that should be banned from this world. You could never convince them otherwise."
Hermione leaned forward in her seat, now sitting on the edge, looking straight into Black's eyes. "But if we used force -"
Mr. Black sprang onto the seat of his chair with angry, paranoid eyes. His pale shacking hands now clasped a long, silver metal pole. He stared down at Hermione shifting back and forth on the cushion, waiting for the student to attack.
Hermione closed her eyes and groaned. She had forgotten briefly the third rule. Never look Mr. Black straightly in the eye and say words such as Traitor, Murder, Deception, or Force. Now she would have to talk her way out of this mess, without suffering from blows by the metal weapon. Hermione opened her eyes and held her hands away from her face to show the guidance councilor she was of no threat.
"Mr. Black, I only meant that if we used such tactics we could come out into the open for the first -"
"Traitor!" Mr. Black screamed, tightening his death grip on the pole. "Who are you? Whom do you work for?"
"I don't work for anyone, Mr. Black," Hermione reassured softly.
"You're a damn lying spy!" Black screamed, spit flying from his mouth. "Who should I expect next, huh? You cannot take me away! I won't allow it! You won't send me back there - never!"
Mr. Black sprang from his chair and vaulted over his desk. Hermione let out a small screech and dove for the door. Mr. Black landed on Hermione's chair and continued to stare after the frightened traitor. Hermione was working furiously with the door knob, but Black had it locked. She gave up and turned around, her back leaning firmly against the barricade separating her from freedom.
"Now answer me! Who do you work for?!" Sirius Black screamed again, now wheezing heavily.
"I work for Dumbledore!" Hermione yelled.
"Liar!"
"Seriously, Mr. Black. I don't work for anybody. I came down here to discuss my future outside of Hogwarts. I didn't mean any damage. Please, let me out. I won't come back again, I promise."
"Why should I believe you?" Sirius snarled, insanity taking over him.
"Because I'm your friend, and I would never hurt you. I would never try to send you back to prison. I'm Harry's friend, remember? Harry Potter? You'll believe him, won't you? He'll tell you I'm not dangerous. Let me out, Mr. Black, please."
Sirius blinked, not knowing whether to believe the girl or not. She sounded sincere, but Hermione knew it was no easy task for Sirius Black to just let a prisoner go. He would fight with himself until his stronger side won. All Hermione had to do was wait and hope she wouldn't be caught in the cross fire.
Sirius's left eye began to twitch, as his hands played with the metal pole. He would have to let her go. Dumbledore wouldn't believe him that Hermione was a traitor, so if he killed her he would send Sirius back to the prison. Hermione had to bring this up.
"And if you harm me, Dumbledore would send you away!" She yelled. Sirius received the final blow, and the pole at last slipped from his hands. He looked around him as if pulling himself from a daze. He seemed awfully confused as to why he was standing on a chair, and why Hermione was plastered frighteningly against the door. He looked down at the pole that laid harmlessly on the floor. His eyes widened.
"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he whispered, carefully getting down off the chair to stand on firm ground again. "I don't know what came over me."
He reached over his desk and pushed a small button. A familiar buzzing noise filled the air and the door finally opened. "I'll keep in mind you'd like to become the president. We'll talk later."
However, Hermione barely let the words escape his lips before she took off down the hall. She wanted to put enough space between her and psycho pole-man.
Sirius eyes darkened and narrowed as he watched Hermione sprint down the hall and turn the corner. "And when we do talk again, I'll be ready." He bent down and picked up his pole. With one last look at the empty hallway, his right hand found the button, and the door swung slowly closed.
A/N: Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out. Summer took me captive. Oh, and sorry if this chapter has a butt load of mistakes in it - this whole story does, actually - but this doesn't have a beta, and I only reread it once before posting. Hope you were entertained enough to review. I did my part, now it's your turn to push that nice little button that says review. You know you want to ….