Chapter 6
No matter how many times Hermione flipped through the book, the pages were still blank. Thinking perhaps the words were ensorcelled with invisible ink (appropriate for a book of this type, she thought wryly), she recited every revealing spell she remembered. None worked.
Growing frustrated, she muttered some curse words that even Harry and Ron would have been surprised she knew. However, the book remained unmoved by her unseemly display, its pages taunting her.
"How do I make these bloody words visible?" She finally shouted, exasperated. Shock froze her face as words formed on the erstwhile empty pages.
iThere are several techniques for revealing hidden messages. Visibility charms are the most commonly used forms. The first is the Aparecio charm, which unveils the most basic of concealing charms and thus is normally used by lower level magicians.
The second charm is Variabilis Status Redit. This switches things back to their original status. Used mainly in decoding messages, it is performed by the Ministry of Magic and is unknown to the general population.
There are also potions which can expose writings. The most common is Escriverum, a liquid variant on Aparecio, combined with some aspects of the Veritaserum potion. It reveals invisible messages, but only those parts that are true. For obvious reasons, this is sometimes undesirable, especially when the user wishes to catch the writer in a lie.
There is also the highly dangerous Parevium. This combines the talents of Escriverum and Variabilis Status Redit, and, if brewed correctly also allows the user to learn who had written the message. Extremely difficult to concoct, it is not often used./i
Shaken out of her shock by the book's good sense, Hermione turned back to the first page and reread the poem. She smacked herself on the head for being so dense. "Knowledge isn't knowing the answer, but knowing the question to ask." In her rush to solve a complex problem, she hadn't seen that the answer was so simple.
She returned to the information page. It was blank again. She grinned and asked another question.
"How do I reveal an invisible person?"
iThere are a few ways to unveil an invisible person, all of which depend on the method of invisibility. The extremely common "don't-notice-me" spell is easily detectable. This charm only works directly in sight of the would- be observer. When in the peripheral vision of the watcher, the spelled person flickers. Thus, the observer should continually be on the hunt for movements to the side of their line of vision. Once the watcher has seen the invisible person, they must keep them in their peripheral vision and cast "Reserat Faciem."
Most other invisibility spells are easily dismissed by "Serenat Obumbrata," which can be cast on a single person or on a room in general. Cloaks charmed for permanent invisibility are impossible to detect, which makes them extremely valuable. However, they are also very difficult to create. There are only five known to exist./i
Hermione's eyes went round. Harry's cloak was very valuable indeed. However, if they were undetectable, how had Mad-Eyed Moody seen Harry? That warranted later thought.
"How do I become invisible?"
*As implied before, there are a few different ways to become invisible.
i Charms include the don't-notice-me spell, which has previously mentioned flaws, and "Velata Tenet," which hides the witch or wizard only if they hold their wand in their hand at all times, as the incantation is connected directly to the wand's core./i
The third charm sounded like a possibility. She'd just have to remember to keep contact with her wand. The writing continued after another short pause.
iThere is also a potion, "No Ha Mirado," which will render the brewer completely invisible and impervious to all discovering charms./i
That was definitely the best option, depending on the ingredients needed. Hermione did not particularly enjoy raiding Professor Snape's stores, though she would do it for the right cause. However, there was one more question to ask before ascertaining which method to use.
"How do I become visible again after drinking No Ha Mirado?" After all, Hermione was never one to shut herself in a wardrobe, literally or metaphorically speaking. And, although all charms could be dissolved by Finite Incantatemm, potions were often not so simple. Again, the book took a bit longer in its response.
iNo Ha Mirado is not easily discarded. The castor must stand before what would normally hold their reflection, concentrate upon their image, and declare, "Nosce Te Ipsum" (know thyself). The difficulty lies in that the witch or wizard must have a completely truthful view of his or herself. Upon accepting not only their image, but also their inner self, the drinker will become visible again./i
Hermione frowned and reread the passage, her mind working feverishly. She knew she wasn't the stereotypical confused teenager with an identity crisis, but could she accept every part of her personality? Every fear? Every desire? Every need? This potion required that she essentially recreate all aspects of herself, and such knowledge could not be found in a textbook.
The witch rose agitatedly from her chair and began pacing, much to her cat's irritation: she was disturbing his beauty rest (yes, he needed it). When it became clear that she was not going to stop the world for his benefit, he stalked out of the room to find a better napping place. She never even batted an eye.
Questions and half-formed ideas were racing through Hermione's head. Could she do this? Should she do this? What would it mean for her integrity if she didn't? She felt like the proverbial hamster in a cage, always moving but not going anywhere. Inspiration would strike her suddenly then fade away in a cloud of obscurity, leaving her with a dissatisfied and frustrated feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Hermione was not normally one to dwell on a subject, especially since the right answer was usually found quickly, whether through a teacher or a text. She enjoyed books; their answers were always clear cut and precise, providing a bearing of sorts. Clear directions were always preferable to open ended questions and uncertainty was the bane of her existence. Ambiguity was not her best friend.
With these thoughts turning about in her mind, she paced as the carpet threatened to gain a trench like Geronimo's.
Hence, mind lost in thought, she didn't register the knock on the door until it sounded the second time. Startled, she hastily hid the book under a floorboard, not as though that was really needed. However, better safe than sorry, as the old saying went.
"Just a minute," she shouted from the bedroom. A "finite incantatem!" and the music cut off mid-bar. Pity really, she liked that particular piece.
Dissolving the wards, she opened the door just as another knock sounded. Harry waited there, hand still raised. Shocked because she really hadn't expected to see either of the boys after her fight with Ron, she stood there and forgot to invite him.
"Heya Hermione. I came by to make sure you came down to dinner. I thought you might forget due to your adventure." This last was uttered with bitterness and slight envy. Ever since Cedric Diggory's death in fourth year, Harry blamed himself for Voldemort's consequent rise in power, and took every evil action by his arch-nemesis to heart. He wasn't necessarily obsessed with fighting the Dark Lord, but he definitely had a healthy dose of revenge coursing through his veins. The fact that he'd been unable to attend the day's little gathering had just added salt to the wound.
Hermione snorted. "If you can call it such." There was an uncomfortable silence, which Harry ended by saying that Ron was already in the dining hall. Another silence. Hermione attempted to think of an appropriate excuse while staring at the floor, or tried to anyway. Her head suddenly felt very light, and she saw stars for a moment. A disoriented feeling came over and she felt as though she were unbalanced and falling, but when her vision cleared, she was still upright. Apparently, hunger had gotten the better of her.
"You're right, Harry. I had completely forgotten about dinner. I'll be right back." She walked carefully back into the bedroom and put her shoes back on. Joining Harry back in the front room, she grabbed her robes and shut the door. After renewing the wards, they walked down the corridor to the Great Hall.
Harry asked her for an account of the meeting, because although he had heard the story from Ron, even he knew the boy wasn't completely reliable.
She described the Death Eater gathering in precise detail, and shivered in remembrance of the sickly green light and the screams. When she finished describing their report to Dumbledore, she paused, as if unsure as to whether she should continue. Harry encouraged her.
"How did the fight start?" he asked quietly.
"Well, Ron was still in shock from--" she swallowed "--Fudge's death, and was silent for most of the way. However, when I mentioned following Snape again, he lost it." She paused and shrugged slightly, "You know the rest."
They reached the Hall and parted, he to the Gryffindor table and she to the Head Table. Normally, she missed sitting with her friends, but today she was grateful for the separation. Dealing with Ron's not-so-subtle, hostile glances was not a top choice on her list.
"Ah, Ms. Granger. Lovely of you to join us." Dumbledore pulled out her chair for her and took his place by the next chair. At the headmaster's signal, Professor McGonagall tapped her goblet with a spoon and the din quieted.
"Ordinarily, I would not prolong your suffering any more than necessary--" a small pause, Dumbledore's natural flare for dramatics "--and tonight is no exception. Begin."
Food appeared on the plates and the conversations continued at their normal ear-splitting intensity. Hermione had no inclination to partake of either and sat there in silence, pushing mashed potatoes around her plate. Professor McGonagall was talking animatedly with Professor Sprout and the headmaster was chatting with the Head Boy. So, even if she had wished to, conversation was out of the question. After all, she couldn't exactly shout across the room.
A thought struck her, and out of curiosity she looked down the table to check if Snape had come. He sat there, his glower as pronounced as ever, his mouth set in a straight line. Only a hot mug was in front of him, and he didn't seem to be drinking much of that. His fingers were curled around it tightly though, as if he were trying to suck all the warmth out of it. The knuckles were white and the thin, pale hands seemed almost to spasm at intervals.
Suddenly, his head snapped up with almost psychic awareness and his black eyes met hers. Was it just her imagination, or had they held a flicker pain? If so, it was gone now. He resumed his habitual poisonous glare and she quickly looked elsewhere.
Dinner passed at an almost unbearably slow pace. Her reluctance at staying near the now nauseous noise and suddenly sickening smells of dinner intensified. When she first perceived that she would not be terribly missed, Hermione excused herself from the Head Table and left through the teacher's side entrance.
She hurried through the halls with undue haste, only stopping when she reached her rooms upon which she uttered the password and stepped through the door.
After breathing in the calming scents and sights of her rooms for a moment, she suddenly wondered why she had left so early. Had it been the pressure of being there with Ron around? No, thought of him hadn't even passed through her head the entire dinner. Had it been the lack of conversation? No, she was used to silence, usually self-imposed. What had it been?
The question plagued her and, although desks were all well and good for studying books, she preferred to do abstract thinking in comfort; which was not easily obtained on hard chairs, leaning over a table. So, she walked over to the bathroom and began to draw a hot bath. Ever since becoming a prefect in her fifth year, regular use of a good bath had become essential, especially due to her extra responsibilities. Her duties now as Head Girl were beyond comparison to the previous two years and at times, she had to force herself to relax; and the best way to do so was a nearly-scalding bath. Stripping as quickly as she could without hurting herself, Hermione stepped gingerly into the hot water. The temperature sent pleasant shivers down her spine as she slowly submerged into the water. She felt relaxed for the first time since that morning and allowed herself to revel in the feeling, since it was not often she could stop her thought process so completely.
The problem with comfortable places to think is that the mind often wanders and sometimes, if too cozy, one tends to fall asleep, as Hermione slowly did.
*****
A small, faint light lay before her, and she walked towards it, curiosity compelling her steps. There were slight noises, much like voices. They were familiar, yet foreign, and she couldn't quite make them out, even though she strained her ears to understand. The need to hear what they were saying forced her forward. She drew closer to the light and voices, and as she did so, they changed.
It was as though she had been blindfolded and her ears plugged. All of a sudden, she was there, truly there and completely aware of everything. And wished she wasn't.
The light wasn't the pure white it had been a moment ago, but instead a bright green, a green she had seen one too many times in her life. Cold penetrated her body, and she shivered despite the fact that she was aware nerve endings didn't exist in this state. The source was that chilling voice she had been straining to hear. It calmly and deliberately said those words, those words that she despised with all her being, over and over again, until it was an unwelcome chant in her head.
"Avada Kedavra. Avada Kedavra. Avada Kedavra." Flashes of green light repeatedly lit the darkness and screams joined the voice in a terrifying mantra in her mind. Every "Avada Kedavra" was followed by a heart-wrenching scream, each of which sent another shudder up her spine.
*****
She awoke, sweating, to find herself still in the bath, which had by now grown cold. Shivering from the aftereffects of the dream, and the water's temperature, she wrapped a bathrobe around herself and walked back into the bedroom. Reflecting on the dream and its implications, she slowly and deliberately took the book from its hiding spot and placed it on the desk again.
And asked it a question.
"How do I brew No Ha Mirado?"
No matter how many times Hermione flipped through the book, the pages were still blank. Thinking perhaps the words were ensorcelled with invisible ink (appropriate for a book of this type, she thought wryly), she recited every revealing spell she remembered. None worked.
Growing frustrated, she muttered some curse words that even Harry and Ron would have been surprised she knew. However, the book remained unmoved by her unseemly display, its pages taunting her.
"How do I make these bloody words visible?" She finally shouted, exasperated. Shock froze her face as words formed on the erstwhile empty pages.
iThere are several techniques for revealing hidden messages. Visibility charms are the most commonly used forms. The first is the Aparecio charm, which unveils the most basic of concealing charms and thus is normally used by lower level magicians.
The second charm is Variabilis Status Redit. This switches things back to their original status. Used mainly in decoding messages, it is performed by the Ministry of Magic and is unknown to the general population.
There are also potions which can expose writings. The most common is Escriverum, a liquid variant on Aparecio, combined with some aspects of the Veritaserum potion. It reveals invisible messages, but only those parts that are true. For obvious reasons, this is sometimes undesirable, especially when the user wishes to catch the writer in a lie.
There is also the highly dangerous Parevium. This combines the talents of Escriverum and Variabilis Status Redit, and, if brewed correctly also allows the user to learn who had written the message. Extremely difficult to concoct, it is not often used./i
Shaken out of her shock by the book's good sense, Hermione turned back to the first page and reread the poem. She smacked herself on the head for being so dense. "Knowledge isn't knowing the answer, but knowing the question to ask." In her rush to solve a complex problem, she hadn't seen that the answer was so simple.
She returned to the information page. It was blank again. She grinned and asked another question.
"How do I reveal an invisible person?"
iThere are a few ways to unveil an invisible person, all of which depend on the method of invisibility. The extremely common "don't-notice-me" spell is easily detectable. This charm only works directly in sight of the would- be observer. When in the peripheral vision of the watcher, the spelled person flickers. Thus, the observer should continually be on the hunt for movements to the side of their line of vision. Once the watcher has seen the invisible person, they must keep them in their peripheral vision and cast "Reserat Faciem."
Most other invisibility spells are easily dismissed by "Serenat Obumbrata," which can be cast on a single person or on a room in general. Cloaks charmed for permanent invisibility are impossible to detect, which makes them extremely valuable. However, they are also very difficult to create. There are only five known to exist./i
Hermione's eyes went round. Harry's cloak was very valuable indeed. However, if they were undetectable, how had Mad-Eyed Moody seen Harry? That warranted later thought.
"How do I become invisible?"
*As implied before, there are a few different ways to become invisible.
i Charms include the don't-notice-me spell, which has previously mentioned flaws, and "Velata Tenet," which hides the witch or wizard only if they hold their wand in their hand at all times, as the incantation is connected directly to the wand's core./i
The third charm sounded like a possibility. She'd just have to remember to keep contact with her wand. The writing continued after another short pause.
iThere is also a potion, "No Ha Mirado," which will render the brewer completely invisible and impervious to all discovering charms./i
That was definitely the best option, depending on the ingredients needed. Hermione did not particularly enjoy raiding Professor Snape's stores, though she would do it for the right cause. However, there was one more question to ask before ascertaining which method to use.
"How do I become visible again after drinking No Ha Mirado?" After all, Hermione was never one to shut herself in a wardrobe, literally or metaphorically speaking. And, although all charms could be dissolved by Finite Incantatemm, potions were often not so simple. Again, the book took a bit longer in its response.
iNo Ha Mirado is not easily discarded. The castor must stand before what would normally hold their reflection, concentrate upon their image, and declare, "Nosce Te Ipsum" (know thyself). The difficulty lies in that the witch or wizard must have a completely truthful view of his or herself. Upon accepting not only their image, but also their inner self, the drinker will become visible again./i
Hermione frowned and reread the passage, her mind working feverishly. She knew she wasn't the stereotypical confused teenager with an identity crisis, but could she accept every part of her personality? Every fear? Every desire? Every need? This potion required that she essentially recreate all aspects of herself, and such knowledge could not be found in a textbook.
The witch rose agitatedly from her chair and began pacing, much to her cat's irritation: she was disturbing his beauty rest (yes, he needed it). When it became clear that she was not going to stop the world for his benefit, he stalked out of the room to find a better napping place. She never even batted an eye.
Questions and half-formed ideas were racing through Hermione's head. Could she do this? Should she do this? What would it mean for her integrity if she didn't? She felt like the proverbial hamster in a cage, always moving but not going anywhere. Inspiration would strike her suddenly then fade away in a cloud of obscurity, leaving her with a dissatisfied and frustrated feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Hermione was not normally one to dwell on a subject, especially since the right answer was usually found quickly, whether through a teacher or a text. She enjoyed books; their answers were always clear cut and precise, providing a bearing of sorts. Clear directions were always preferable to open ended questions and uncertainty was the bane of her existence. Ambiguity was not her best friend.
With these thoughts turning about in her mind, she paced as the carpet threatened to gain a trench like Geronimo's.
Hence, mind lost in thought, she didn't register the knock on the door until it sounded the second time. Startled, she hastily hid the book under a floorboard, not as though that was really needed. However, better safe than sorry, as the old saying went.
"Just a minute," she shouted from the bedroom. A "finite incantatem!" and the music cut off mid-bar. Pity really, she liked that particular piece.
Dissolving the wards, she opened the door just as another knock sounded. Harry waited there, hand still raised. Shocked because she really hadn't expected to see either of the boys after her fight with Ron, she stood there and forgot to invite him.
"Heya Hermione. I came by to make sure you came down to dinner. I thought you might forget due to your adventure." This last was uttered with bitterness and slight envy. Ever since Cedric Diggory's death in fourth year, Harry blamed himself for Voldemort's consequent rise in power, and took every evil action by his arch-nemesis to heart. He wasn't necessarily obsessed with fighting the Dark Lord, but he definitely had a healthy dose of revenge coursing through his veins. The fact that he'd been unable to attend the day's little gathering had just added salt to the wound.
Hermione snorted. "If you can call it such." There was an uncomfortable silence, which Harry ended by saying that Ron was already in the dining hall. Another silence. Hermione attempted to think of an appropriate excuse while staring at the floor, or tried to anyway. Her head suddenly felt very light, and she saw stars for a moment. A disoriented feeling came over and she felt as though she were unbalanced and falling, but when her vision cleared, she was still upright. Apparently, hunger had gotten the better of her.
"You're right, Harry. I had completely forgotten about dinner. I'll be right back." She walked carefully back into the bedroom and put her shoes back on. Joining Harry back in the front room, she grabbed her robes and shut the door. After renewing the wards, they walked down the corridor to the Great Hall.
Harry asked her for an account of the meeting, because although he had heard the story from Ron, even he knew the boy wasn't completely reliable.
She described the Death Eater gathering in precise detail, and shivered in remembrance of the sickly green light and the screams. When she finished describing their report to Dumbledore, she paused, as if unsure as to whether she should continue. Harry encouraged her.
"How did the fight start?" he asked quietly.
"Well, Ron was still in shock from--" she swallowed "--Fudge's death, and was silent for most of the way. However, when I mentioned following Snape again, he lost it." She paused and shrugged slightly, "You know the rest."
They reached the Hall and parted, he to the Gryffindor table and she to the Head Table. Normally, she missed sitting with her friends, but today she was grateful for the separation. Dealing with Ron's not-so-subtle, hostile glances was not a top choice on her list.
"Ah, Ms. Granger. Lovely of you to join us." Dumbledore pulled out her chair for her and took his place by the next chair. At the headmaster's signal, Professor McGonagall tapped her goblet with a spoon and the din quieted.
"Ordinarily, I would not prolong your suffering any more than necessary--" a small pause, Dumbledore's natural flare for dramatics "--and tonight is no exception. Begin."
Food appeared on the plates and the conversations continued at their normal ear-splitting intensity. Hermione had no inclination to partake of either and sat there in silence, pushing mashed potatoes around her plate. Professor McGonagall was talking animatedly with Professor Sprout and the headmaster was chatting with the Head Boy. So, even if she had wished to, conversation was out of the question. After all, she couldn't exactly shout across the room.
A thought struck her, and out of curiosity she looked down the table to check if Snape had come. He sat there, his glower as pronounced as ever, his mouth set in a straight line. Only a hot mug was in front of him, and he didn't seem to be drinking much of that. His fingers were curled around it tightly though, as if he were trying to suck all the warmth out of it. The knuckles were white and the thin, pale hands seemed almost to spasm at intervals.
Suddenly, his head snapped up with almost psychic awareness and his black eyes met hers. Was it just her imagination, or had they held a flicker pain? If so, it was gone now. He resumed his habitual poisonous glare and she quickly looked elsewhere.
Dinner passed at an almost unbearably slow pace. Her reluctance at staying near the now nauseous noise and suddenly sickening smells of dinner intensified. When she first perceived that she would not be terribly missed, Hermione excused herself from the Head Table and left through the teacher's side entrance.
She hurried through the halls with undue haste, only stopping when she reached her rooms upon which she uttered the password and stepped through the door.
After breathing in the calming scents and sights of her rooms for a moment, she suddenly wondered why she had left so early. Had it been the pressure of being there with Ron around? No, thought of him hadn't even passed through her head the entire dinner. Had it been the lack of conversation? No, she was used to silence, usually self-imposed. What had it been?
The question plagued her and, although desks were all well and good for studying books, she preferred to do abstract thinking in comfort; which was not easily obtained on hard chairs, leaning over a table. So, she walked over to the bathroom and began to draw a hot bath. Ever since becoming a prefect in her fifth year, regular use of a good bath had become essential, especially due to her extra responsibilities. Her duties now as Head Girl were beyond comparison to the previous two years and at times, she had to force herself to relax; and the best way to do so was a nearly-scalding bath. Stripping as quickly as she could without hurting herself, Hermione stepped gingerly into the hot water. The temperature sent pleasant shivers down her spine as she slowly submerged into the water. She felt relaxed for the first time since that morning and allowed herself to revel in the feeling, since it was not often she could stop her thought process so completely.
The problem with comfortable places to think is that the mind often wanders and sometimes, if too cozy, one tends to fall asleep, as Hermione slowly did.
*****
A small, faint light lay before her, and she walked towards it, curiosity compelling her steps. There were slight noises, much like voices. They were familiar, yet foreign, and she couldn't quite make them out, even though she strained her ears to understand. The need to hear what they were saying forced her forward. She drew closer to the light and voices, and as she did so, they changed.
It was as though she had been blindfolded and her ears plugged. All of a sudden, she was there, truly there and completely aware of everything. And wished she wasn't.
The light wasn't the pure white it had been a moment ago, but instead a bright green, a green she had seen one too many times in her life. Cold penetrated her body, and she shivered despite the fact that she was aware nerve endings didn't exist in this state. The source was that chilling voice she had been straining to hear. It calmly and deliberately said those words, those words that she despised with all her being, over and over again, until it was an unwelcome chant in her head.
"Avada Kedavra. Avada Kedavra. Avada Kedavra." Flashes of green light repeatedly lit the darkness and screams joined the voice in a terrifying mantra in her mind. Every "Avada Kedavra" was followed by a heart-wrenching scream, each of which sent another shudder up her spine.
*****
She awoke, sweating, to find herself still in the bath, which had by now grown cold. Shivering from the aftereffects of the dream, and the water's temperature, she wrapped a bathrobe around herself and walked back into the bedroom. Reflecting on the dream and its implications, she slowly and deliberately took the book from its hiding spot and placed it on the desk again.
And asked it a question.
"How do I brew No Ha Mirado?"