She found herself walking back to her flat slowly, as if in a daze. She was
in a daze, that's what it was. He had just appeared, seemingly out of
nowhere and seamlessly merged himself into her life in just a few short
minutes. It almost felt as if he never left. It felt almost as if it was-
right-that he was back, as if it signified something. "Stop talking
nonsense Hermione" she told herself, it was all part of his mysterious
persona.
Was that how he had mastered it during her school years, living a double life? Charming unsuspecting victims into believing they could trust him? In just under an hour, he had wormed his way back into her life and into her thoughts. He was a master at seduction, that much she knew from her years as a student, not just seduction for lust, but he was able to turn you into a human house elf, beating yourself up before you'd say something bad about him.
It was his way of keeping order in class, and she remembered it all too well. The way he could control his silky voice, never speaking louder than a whisper, forcing everyone to pay rapt attention lest they miss something vital. Yes, he was truly a master of seduction, combing his voice with the presence that he had. Even with the pale, almost sallow, somewhat greasy skin, wit the lank, stringy, greasy black hair and the long crooked hooknose, his presence made him seem almost attractive.
And try as she might, she could not erase the tall, dark figure that cut his path across her mind. She wondered what he was doing back...almost as if he was back from the grave. She thought he was gone after the final battle, cloistered away, or even dead. There were many who lay strewn across the field, on both sides, both wizards and muggles alike, when the fighting was finally over. The only one that she had seen fall was Harry. She supposed it was better that way, better that he died in that final battle, he was too well known in the wizarding world, he would have been lynched after the final battle anyway.
Lynched like-she could barely bear to think about it. She had seen it with her own two eyes and forced herself to turn her back on them and walk away. She never thought that she'd see anyone attack the burrow, not the home the constantly chaotic Weaslys. Just after the start of summer, no more than a month after the final battle. The Weaslys were trying as hard as they could to adapt, with Mrs. Weasly's constant optimism guiding the rest of the family, especially Percy, the most sullen of them all, through the tough transition. She never knew what was coming.
No one saw it. The Weasleys were the first. Everyone said that it was just a drunken mob, but that one drunken mob had started a sinister plan. It was a fine summer night, and the family had just retreated back into the house when they never quite made it out. Ron had been the only one to get out of the house as it burned to the ground, and rather than let him go, the mob had strung him up to a tree and left him there. By the time she, or anyone, had gotten there, it was too late to do anything for anyone. All she could do was turn around and walk away before anyone came back and did the same to her, if only for mourning for a friend.
The thought of it still brought tears to her eyes and anger to her chest. She understood what the Vecchio as most of them called themselves were fighting for, they w ere fighting not only against the unjust persecution of their kind, but also to preserve what little prestige they still had. Until now, she had never met a member of their numbers, until now, the organization had always seemed foreign to her, quite like the Death Eaters had, something that existed, that people knew existed, but no one quite knew who was in it, or how to join. But the more she thought about it, both from a wizarding and a muggle point of view, the more...normal it seemed. The less it seemed like an organization to be feared and the more it seemed like the underdogs, the group fighting to save themselves and others like them.
END OF CHAPTER 3
A/N I apologize if this chapter is a little choppy, but I needed some way to introduce Hermione's thoughts on the Vecchio. For those of you who don't speak Italian, it means literally "old." Like as in old ways, old traditions, etc.
Was that how he had mastered it during her school years, living a double life? Charming unsuspecting victims into believing they could trust him? In just under an hour, he had wormed his way back into her life and into her thoughts. He was a master at seduction, that much she knew from her years as a student, not just seduction for lust, but he was able to turn you into a human house elf, beating yourself up before you'd say something bad about him.
It was his way of keeping order in class, and she remembered it all too well. The way he could control his silky voice, never speaking louder than a whisper, forcing everyone to pay rapt attention lest they miss something vital. Yes, he was truly a master of seduction, combing his voice with the presence that he had. Even with the pale, almost sallow, somewhat greasy skin, wit the lank, stringy, greasy black hair and the long crooked hooknose, his presence made him seem almost attractive.
And try as she might, she could not erase the tall, dark figure that cut his path across her mind. She wondered what he was doing back...almost as if he was back from the grave. She thought he was gone after the final battle, cloistered away, or even dead. There were many who lay strewn across the field, on both sides, both wizards and muggles alike, when the fighting was finally over. The only one that she had seen fall was Harry. She supposed it was better that way, better that he died in that final battle, he was too well known in the wizarding world, he would have been lynched after the final battle anyway.
Lynched like-she could barely bear to think about it. She had seen it with her own two eyes and forced herself to turn her back on them and walk away. She never thought that she'd see anyone attack the burrow, not the home the constantly chaotic Weaslys. Just after the start of summer, no more than a month after the final battle. The Weaslys were trying as hard as they could to adapt, with Mrs. Weasly's constant optimism guiding the rest of the family, especially Percy, the most sullen of them all, through the tough transition. She never knew what was coming.
No one saw it. The Weasleys were the first. Everyone said that it was just a drunken mob, but that one drunken mob had started a sinister plan. It was a fine summer night, and the family had just retreated back into the house when they never quite made it out. Ron had been the only one to get out of the house as it burned to the ground, and rather than let him go, the mob had strung him up to a tree and left him there. By the time she, or anyone, had gotten there, it was too late to do anything for anyone. All she could do was turn around and walk away before anyone came back and did the same to her, if only for mourning for a friend.
The thought of it still brought tears to her eyes and anger to her chest. She understood what the Vecchio as most of them called themselves were fighting for, they w ere fighting not only against the unjust persecution of their kind, but also to preserve what little prestige they still had. Until now, she had never met a member of their numbers, until now, the organization had always seemed foreign to her, quite like the Death Eaters had, something that existed, that people knew existed, but no one quite knew who was in it, or how to join. But the more she thought about it, both from a wizarding and a muggle point of view, the more...normal it seemed. The less it seemed like an organization to be feared and the more it seemed like the underdogs, the group fighting to save themselves and others like them.
END OF CHAPTER 3
A/N I apologize if this chapter is a little choppy, but I needed some way to introduce Hermione's thoughts on the Vecchio. For those of you who don't speak Italian, it means literally "old." Like as in old ways, old traditions, etc.