Chapter 21

Conversations and Confessions

When Hermione awoke in darkness, she tried to scream. Her skin felt horribly tight, as if it were a size too small. With every movement, her skin stretched, burning and feeling as though it would rip. Hermione's attempted scream came out as a low, creaking moan. It felt as though she'd swallowed razor blades and sand. She began to cry, the salt in her tears stinging the skin of her cheeks. Hermione put hands to her face, gently prodding unfamiliar, disfigured features with her equally burned fingers. As she let out silent, painful sobs, Hermione felt at her scalp, finding that her mane of bushy hair was gone, along with her eyebrows and even her eyelashes. Madam Pomfrey, likely hearing Hermione's piteous moans, came hurrying out of her office, light from her wand illuminating the empty Hospital Wing.

She rushed over and pushed a glass vial into Hermione's hands, explaining in a soothing voice, "Drink that potion, it will put you back to sleep. You've suffered serious burns across your entire body, and there is damage to your lungs and throat too. I can heal you, but it will take time. The best thing you can do is rest. I've already used magic to bring you back from the brink of death, for now, that's all I will risk. Tomorrow morning, if you're strong enough, I'll begin work on your burns."

Weakly, Hermione lifted the potion and let it pour down her throat. She was too scared and in too much pain to reject anything that might help. It stung as she swallowed, like lemon juice on a cut. As she lay back, more tears rolled down Hermione's blistered cheeks, but mercifully, the potion worked quickly. Hermione's tears hadn't reached her pillow before she fell deeply asleep.

The next time she opened her eyes, it was daylight. Hermione looked down at the skin of her arms and screamed. It looked like old, worn leather, shiny in patches, dull in others. Her fingers looked too long, the flesh pulled tight over the bones and muscles. Her throat still hurt, but it proved to be somewhat healed when Hermione's scream came out sounding scratchy, but piercingly loud.

Dreadlocks swinging about wildly, Madam Pomfrey came sprinting out of her office. She took one look at Hermione and grimaced, then she ran to a cabinet and pulled out two glass vials.

She hurried to Hermione and handed her the one with a pale red liquid inside and said, "Drink it."

Not hesitating, Hermione tipped it down her throat. The agony of her burned and blistered skin lessened, body becoming numb over the course of the next thirty seconds.

"Will I always look like this?" Hermione asked pitifully through a raw throat and past cracked lips.

"No," Madam Pomfrey said resolutely, "But you will be here for some time. Now that you're growing stronger, I will treat your burns twice a day. There may be a little scarring, but nothing extreme."

Soothed by the numbing potion and Pomfrey's rich voice, Hermione's wandering thoughts landed on a subject more important than her burns.

Sitting up and looking about, Hermione rasped, "Li, Neville, my friends! Are they okay?"

Pushing her back and handing over the second potion, Pomfrey answered, "They're fine, superficial burns only. In a few days, when you're a bit better, I'll let them visit you."

Hermione drank the second potion, and before she could ask another question, sleep took her.

This pattern repeated itself five more times. Hermione woke, drank whatever potion Madam Pomfrey offered, then returned to the bliss of dreamless sleep. Each time she came to, Hermione's skin looked less disfigured.

The seventh time Hermione awoke, she discovered her arms were almost free of blisters. The skin of her fingers still looked shiny and discolored, but Pomfrey's healing was clearly working.

"So I've been here about a week, right?" Hermione inquired in a voice that sounded only a little hoarse.

"A week?" Pomfrey responded with raised eyebrows, "Dear, it's been well over a month. That draft you've been taking keeps you under for days at a time."

Hermione let out a groan, "You're telling me I've missed a month of lessons? I need my books, my homework, notes on all the lectures I slept through!"

Pomfrey gave her a warm smile, "Well, if you're demanding books, you must be feeling better. How about this," she glanced at a clock mounted on one wall, "before you take your sleeping draft, I'll let you have some visitors. They'll be here any minute."

"How do you know someone will visit soon?"

Madam Pomfrey winked at her, saying, "I've been turning them away three times a day for a month, I think I know their schedule by now."

Li and Neville showed up less than a minute later. They rushed to her bedside and both began talking at the same time. Hermione held up a hand, quieting the pair.

"I'm injured," she said with a grin, settling back onto her pillows, "so you have to tell me your story first. Then I'll tell you what happened to me."

They spent the morning catching up on everything that had occurred after they were separated. Neville, it turned out, had followed Quirrell up to the top of Ravenclaw Tower. Hermione guessed that the security spells were not designed to stop staff members, so they both were able to ascend without being blown back by magical winds.

While under the influence of Legilimency, Neville and Li had been forced to wait by the door of the room, unable to move until the fire started. Once they were free of the former librarian's control, they tried to return for Hermione, but the blazing fire forced them to retreat. A group of teachers had arrived soon after, but when they entered and found Hermione, Rowena's room was nothing but a small burnt bedroom.

Hermione gave her friends a simplified explanation of what had happened after they'd left.

Telling the story left her feeling panicked, and Hermione was crying by the time she said, "I thought I'd died, but then I woke up here."

Li and Neville's eyes filled with tears in response, and all three hugged, expressing the concern they'd felt for each other during the terrifying events in the tower. Madam Pomfrey waited until their weeping had subsided, then she shooed Neville and Li out of the room, promising they could visit again soon.

Hermione took her sleeping draft, and when she next awoke, another visitor already sat in a chair beside her bed, but it was neither of her fellow first-years.

"Hello Miss Granger, how are you feeling today?" Albus Dumbledore asked kindly, giving Hermione a small smile.

"Um, fine," Hermione responded, glancing self consciously at her arms.

The Headmaster made no comment on her injuries, instead, he steepled his fingers and said, "Your friend, Mister Longbottom, told me quite the tale about the events that took place at the top of Ravenclaw Tower. I was quite upset to learn that, not just one, but two members of my staff attempted to do you harm."

As he spoke, Hermione closed her eyes, breathing faster, images of shattering ice and white robes flashing in her mind. She shuddered, opening her eyes and taking the full glass of water from her bedside table. She drained it down, not pausing to consider whether Dumbledore may have poured it for himself. It cooled her throat, and felt pleasant on her stomach.

After a few deep breaths, Hermione met Dumbledore's eyes and said, "I'm not sure I can talk about it right now, sir."

Dumbledore nodded, saying nothing more on the subject, "I spoke with Professor Flitwick. He feels that, given the circumstances, you need not take your end of year exams. We both agreed your classwork is far beyond the passing threshold for a first-year student, and it would be unwise for you to put yourself in any strenuous or stressful situations until you've healed completely. Flitwick actually recommends you attend his third-year classes next fall rather than staying with your fellow second-years."

Conflicting emotions fought for dominance in Hermione's mind. She was flattered by Flitwick's confidence in her, but the idea of skipping classes, or missing exams felt viscerally wrong to Hermione. She'd always loved end of year tests in grade school, it was her chance to see how much she had learned. While considering how to respond, Hermione's other emotions were replaced by an oppressive sense of futility when she remembered the issue of tuition.

"I'm not sure I'll be able to attend Hogwarts next year, sir," Hermione said softly, running a hand through her short hair that had begun to grow back, "it's a financial issue. I was only able to come here thanks to the scholarship program."

Eyes twinkling, Dumbledore handed Hermione a copy of the Daily Prophet and said, "I guess keeping up with current events is difficult when you're being magically sedated on a regular basis. This is last Friday's edition, I recommend you check out page four, there's an article that might interest you."

Hermione opened the paper and, beside a large advertisement for a new racing broom that took up most of the page, she found a short article titled, 'Corruption at the Ministry'.

"Thanks to an unnamed source, a new scandal has come to light, this one involving the Muggle Liaison Office. One employee has come forward with evidence of financial crimes committed by himself and at least two others Ministry employees. No arrests have been made, but we here at the Daily Prophet can confirm that two Ministry employees were terminated from their positions the day after the evidence was turned over, including a Mr Alan Scott. We reached out to him for a comment, but he did not respond. The Ministry has released an official statement as of yesterday evening. "We are committed to rooting out all bad actors who would take advantage of their positions in the government. The actions of these employees does not reflect our government's commitment to excellence and transparency". Despite these platitudes, we have been restricted from interviewing employees about this situation until the Ministry's internal audit is complete. We at the Prophet cannot help but ask, can the Minister of Magic maintain control? Will the corruption and scandals ever stop? When will Fudge release the details of his family's connections to the International Federation of Goblins? Until we know more, my dear readers, stay skeptical. -Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent."

Looking up from the paper, Hermione asked, "Sir, do you know the name of the other person fired by the Ministry?"

"Yes," Dumbledore replied, "it was a woman by the name of Patricia Boot. She is a relative of your fellow first-year, Terry Boot, with whom I believe you are acquainted."

"Sir," Hermione began, feeling awkward, "I haven't really told anyone this, but I met Patricia the day I purchased my school supplies in Diagon Alley. I, um, I think she may have…" Hermione trailed off, unable to voice her accusation out loud.

Dumbledore did not acknowledge her half statement, instead saying, "After reading this article, I asked a few of our muggle-born students how much money they were given to purchase their school things. In most cases, only a few galleons seemed to have gone missing."

Dumbledore's blue eyes seemed to darken, and anger crept into his voice, "Then I spoke with Minerva, and she told me about your experience with Mr Scott. I spoke with the rest of the muggle-borns and discovered that, including you, there are three students attending Hogwarts whose parents have no knowledge of the Wizarding world. Much like in your case, their memories were altered to believe their children had been accepted into a private muggle school. In both of their cases, as I suspect is true for you, the majority of the money allocated to them never reached their hands."

Hermione gave a small nod to acknowledge the truth of his words, and Dumbledore went on, tone pleasant once again, "I brought these facts to the attention of Cornelius Fudge, our current Minister of Magic, and he has agreed to donate a large sum of money to my scholarship program. With this money, I plan to expand the program in two ways. First, muggle-born students will have access to tuition assistance for three years rather than just one. Secondly, I will use the funds to help ensure all potential witches and wizards born to muggle families are discovered. I estimate that the Ministry's current method of detecting muggle-borns is finding only around seventy percent of potential candidates."

Not sure exactly how to respond, Hermione said, "That's excellent sir, thank you."

"You're quite welcome, but this is not the primary thing that brought me to the Hospital Wing today. I spoke with Madam Pomfrey, and she expressed concern that she was not making progress with the last of your injuries. I would, with your permission, like to take a crack at it."

Not sure why Professor Dumbledore thought he would be more helpful than a witch with specialized education focused on healing, Hermione shrugged, and replied, "Sure."

He pulled his wand from the pocket of his robes. It was made of a light, almost white wood, and noticeably thinner than most wands Hermione had seen. With a lazy flick of the pale wand, Dumbledore created rings of lavender smoke that expanded until they were the size of hula hoops. In a burst of speed, the rings contracted, each rushing to a different part of Hermione's body. As they sunk into her flesh, Hermione felt intensely cold. She shivered, watching in amazement as the patchy, discolored sections of skin on her arms became healthy and smooth.

Standing and putting his wand away, Dumbledore commented, "That looks a bit better."

Without another word, Dumbledore turned and exited the Hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey, looking impressed by the Headmaster's demonstration of power, told Hermione she needed to spend two more nights under her supervision, but that she could do nothing more to treat her. During those two days she made Hermione drink a diluted strengthening solution and gave her basic exercises for her atrophied muscles.

On Hermione's final night in the Hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey returned her wand, along with an envelope smudged with soot and singed at the edges. Confused, Hermione opened the envelope, finding her miniaturized map inside. It smelled like smoke, but the map looked to be in perfect condition, though the envelope had come close to burning.

"I guess my durability charm was stronger than I realized," Hermione thought with a smug grin.

She picked up her wand for the first time in almost two months, noticing no emotions or messages as she touched the wood.

Tapping the map with the tip of her wand, Hermione said, "Engorgio."

Nothing happened.

"Engorgio!" She said more forcefully, imagining the map growing.

The map grew from the size of a stamp to the size of her palm.

"Engorgio!" Hermione shouted, startling Madam Pomfrey as she folded a set of sheets.

The map grew a bit larger, but not enough to make out any details. Concerned, Hermione looked at her wand.

"Is something wrong?" She asked, directing the question into the wood.

No answer came, so Hermione tried something else. She contemplated trying the connection spell she'd used on the wand in Rowena's room, but she realized the risk of being stuck in the Hospital wing another night wasn't worth it. Instead, Hermione put her wand down and turned her focus towards the pitcher on the night stand beside her bed. She willed it to lift into the air, using the same technique she'd developed years before coming to Hogwarts.

The pitcher shook slightly, making the water inside slosh around, but it did not levitate. Hermione frowned, trying the same thing with the empty cup beside the pitcher. She managed to lift it a few wobbling inches off the table before it fell, breaking into two pieces. Madam Pomfrey jumped, turning to give Hermione a glare.

Starting to worry, Hermione picked her wand back up, took a few breaths, imagined the glass in its unbroken form, and said, "Reparo."

The two broken halves remained where they'd fallen, and though she tried a dozen more times before leaving, Hermione did not succeed in repairing the glass. She fretted over the issue as she walked away from the Hospital Wing. Her clothes and shoes had been burned in the fire, so Hermione wore slippers and a pair of pajamas provided by Madam Pomfrey. She wandered through the castle, carrying her small map in one hand and her wand in the other.

When Peeves' grinning face suddenly appeared in front of Hermione, she barely took notice, walking around the floating man without saying a word.

Peeves followed as Hermione continued down the hallway. He made no jokes or threats, he just floated along on his side, a meter above the ground, gazing thoughtfully at Hermione.

She continued to ignore him, and eventually, in a more serious tone than Hermione had heard the poltergeist use, Peeves slowly recited one of his poems,

"A squirrel that's been shaved,

Her friends she did save,

You killed that old eagle,

We should have a parade."

Without his usual cackling laugh, Peeves swept off, leaving Hermione to her thoughts. A part of her was curious how much the troublemaker knew, but a larger part of her was apathetic. When she made it back to the door with no handle, Professor Flitwick stood waiting for her.

"Miss Granger," Flitwick called in his squeaky voice as she approached, "How are you doing? Madam Pomfrey told me you were being released today."

He held out a piece of parchment, and Hermione took it, reading quickly, but with disinterest.

"The bronze eagle here has changed the riddle a few times since you got hurt," Flitwick explained with a bright smile, "I thought you could take a crack at the ones you missed. With Quirrell's disappearance, I won't be able to collect on our bet, but still, I wanted to give you a chance to solve all of Rowena's riddles."

Hermione gave him a forced smile, trying to ignore the images of Voldemort's malicious eyes that Flitwick's words brought to mind. She turned to put her palm on the door with no handle, but before she could, it swung open. Cho stepped out of the common room, almost colliding with the diminutive Professor Flitwick, who's height put him below even the first-year students' line of sight.

"Oh, sorry Professor," Cho apologized before noticing Hermione and declaring, "Oh no! Your hair! Li mentioned you had some burns, but I didn't realize… I bet there's a spell to grow it back faster, I'm surprised Madam Pomfrey didn't offer to do it."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione spoke in a voice that still sounded a bit scratchy despite all the healing she'd received, "I don't care, it will grow back."

Walking past Cho without another word, Hermione entered the common room. She noticed other students watching her, students she'd never met or talked to. Trying to ignore their stares, Hermione walked quickly across the room and headed up the stairs. She did not intend to return to the top of the tower, but a minute later, Hermione peered in on the charred remains of a small bedroom. A semicircular patch of stone floor near the center of the room was noticeably free of soot.

Hermione knelt on the spot, squeezing her wand, and silently wondering, "How did I survive… Why did I survive?"

She felt a flicker of something from her wand, but whatever emotion it was, it faded before Hermione could identify it. With a resigned sigh, Hermione walked down to her room.

As she sat on her bed, Hermione's legs shook, and her chest hurt with each breath. Over the last few days, Madam Pomfrey had tried to prepare her body for returning to normal life, but Hermione had spent almost two months in bed. The effort of walking through the castle and up the tower had been more than she could handle. Li, looking quite worried, shook Hermione awake sometime later.

"I'm alright, just haven't had any exercise for so long that getting back here wiped me out," Hermione said as she opened her trunk and retrieved some of the chocolate Neville had given her for Solstice.

Hermione ate a large chunk of the sweet, creamy chocolate, feeling better with each bite. Li reached over, breaking off a piece for herself.

Teasingly, Li asked, "Have you ever done exercise on purpose? I've only seen you run when you absolutely have to.

Hermione smiled, shaking her head, "I'm not sure, but for now, I need to go on lots of walks and eat a lot of chocolate to help me recuperate."

Stealing another piece of chocolate, Li said, "I'm happy to help you with both of those things, but we'll need to buy some more chocolate if Neville is going to be part of this recovery program, he's got a sweet tooth."

Li went to her own trunk and pulled out a leather pouch, tossing it to Hermione. Based on the clinking sound it made as she caught it, Hermione wasn't surprised when she opened the pouch and found coins, but her eyes did widen when she saw that all ten were galleons.

"What's this?" Hermione asked, looking at Li who was grinning mischievously, "Did you steal these from Rowena's room?"

"Nah, I was too busy trying not to die. Those coins are yours," Li said casually, but when Hermione gave her an expectant look, she continued, "I may have taken some muggle quills from your trunk while you were in the Hospital Wing. This Gryffindor boy wanted to buy twenty-five all at once! Those coins are half his payment, he'll pay the other half once he sells them."

Impressed, but a little skeptical, Hermione asked, "How do you know he'll be able to sell them?"

With a wink, Li said, "Well for one thing, his name is Lee, so he's got that going for him. I mean, it's his first name, and he spells it wrong, but still."

"Are you talking about Lee Jordan? He's friends with the Weasley twins, isn't he?"

Li nodded, "Yeah, and they agreed to try you featherless quills out. Once they did, they started recommending them to everyone.

It took Hermione a moment to find the right words to say to her caring and determined friend, and when she found them, they had nothing to do with galleons or pens, "Li, thanks for going with me… I don't know if I would have survived without you. This whole year, my whole experience with the Wizarding world… it would have been awful, maybe even disastrous if I hadn't met you."

Li shrugged, "Yeah, I am pretty amazing."

Hermione laughed, wiping fresh tears from her eyes before they could fall, "I'm going to get my last bar of chocolate, then you can tell me everything I've missed over the last two months."

As the end of April approached, the weather drastically improved. Hermione was not required to attend classes while she recovered physically and emotionally. Somewhat to her own surprise, she took full advantage of the opportunity, spending her days lounging by the lake, attempting to skip rocks, and generally enjoying the fine weather.

Her decision to embrace spending time outdoors was due in part to the fact that Hermione had nothing new to read. She tried to visit the library to check out new books, but she was unable to draw near the building without thoughts of everything that had happened. Halfway through May, after reading 'Hogwarts a History' for the tenth time, Hermione finally managed to overcome her fears when Neville asked if she could come to the library to help him study for exams.

They walked inside, and Hermione took in a deep breath through her nose. The library smelled better to her than unicorn blood or anything the elves in the kitchen could cook up.

"I missed this place," she told Neville, smiling broadly, thoughts of Rowena's room driven from her mind by the overlapping scent of leather, ink, parchment, and dust.

When the day of exams arrived, Neville still seemed nervous, but he'd demonstrated more confidence in his magic since their confrontation with Professor Quirrell. Hermione made her way to the library for another day of reading, while Li and Neville set off for the third floor where the first-years would take their exams.

She did not see them again until dinner that night. Li looked cheerful as Hermione sat beside her at the Ravenclaw Table, but when she looked over at the Gryffindor table, Hermione saw a gloomy expression on Neville's face.

"What was it like?" Hermione asked Li as they both loaded their plates with shepherd's pie.

"Well we had written exams this morning for History of Magic, Transfiguration, Magical Theory, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. We got a break for lunch, then we took turns doing an obstacle course kind of thing," Li explained between bites of food, "There was this ugly plant with a bunch of vines in the first room. It tried to grab me but I took a page out of your book and used a fire spell. Obviously it wasn't as strong as yours but it made the plant back off. After that, there was a giant chess board with pawns the size of house-elves, and the rest of the pieces taller than you. Our opponent was Flitwick and you could only move the pieces with magic. Apparently, the better you played, the more bonus points you got."

Li frowned, "I got checkmated in less than ten moves. I heard Ron Weasley actually won, but I'm not sure how, Flitwick is a genius. Anyways, the final practical section was making a potion within a time limit. Neville managed to melt another cauldron, that's why he's pouting.

When Hermione talked with Neville after dinner he told a similar story, "The devil's snare was easy to deal with, you just have to move slowly and smoothly, no sudden motions. I even levitated the chess pieces without much trouble, but I barely know how to play the game, so Flitwick beat me real quick. I don't know what I did wrong with the potion… Snape suggested I might need private lessons with him next year."

Neville shuddered at the thought, and consolingly, Hermione told him, "I actually heard one of the assistant librarians saying Snape is applying for the Defense Against the Dark Arts job now that there's a vacancy. Maybe the new Potions teacher won't be so horrible."

The first, second, and third-years had no obligations for the last few days of the school year while the older students would take their exams. Hermione joined her friends watching the quidditch finals where Cedric Diggory carried his team to victory in their rematch against Slytherin. Too soon, they were packing their trunks before heading down to the end of year feast.

After everyone had eaten their fill, Dumbledore stood to address them, "The winner of this year's House Cup, with one thousand four hundred points, is… Hufflepuff!"

The Hufflepuff table exploded with cheers. Members of the other houses booed, especially the Gryffindors and Slytherins, but their discontent was drowned out by the joy and excitement coming from every student with a yellow patch on their black robes. Cedric Diggory, was hoisted onto the shoulders of his fellow quidditch players and paraded up and down the Great Hall. Hermione applauded politely, finding the other house's joy to be infectious.

Her good mood lasted until they boarded the Hogwarts Express early the next morning. Hermione, Neville, and Li went directly to the back of the train, finding an empty compartment and putting their trunks on the rack. Hermione did not try to use magic to move her trunk, worried it would not work.

Before the train departed, Terry Boot timidly asked if he could sit with them. Neville immediately said yes, jumping up to help him load his trunk on the overhead rack. Li and the two boys chatted about their exams as the train began to move, but Hermione found herself silently brooding, considering her plan.

A week before, she had written her parents a letter, telling them she would be arriving at King's Cross Station on the first of June at eight in the evening. This was a full twenty-four hours after the Hogwarts Express would arrive in London, but Hermione had something she needed to do before she could return home for three months of muggle life.

After departing the train, Hermione said a tearful goodbye to her friends, promising to message them everyday via the communication papers she had created earlier in the year. Hermione pulled off her robes, replacing them with a gray jumper, then she strolled through the false wall that led back into the bustling main station where almost no one wore robes.

Without any muggle currency or knowledge of how to use the underground, Hermione was forced to walk for hours. She wandered the streets of London, pulling her trunk along behind her the entire time. At one point, a pair of seedy looking men followed her, shouting obscene things, but they turned back when a bus went by, splashing them with water as it drove through a large puddle. It was two in the morning before she found what she had been searching for, but she found it. A grungy pub with a small sign that read, "The Leaky Cauldron".

Despite the late hour, the door was unlocked, so Hermione let herself in. No one stood behind the bar, and no patrons sat at the stools or tables. Hermione headed across the room and through the backdoor. It took her dozens of attempts to find the right pattern, but eventually she tapped three bricks in the correct order, and the entrance to Diagon Alley opened before her.

Still pulling her trunk along, Hermione marched across the cobblestones, stopping when she reached a particular shop. For several minutes, she pounded her fist against the wooden door, hoping she would not have to wait until the following morning. Eventually, a second story window directly above the shop was thrown open.

A disgruntled man with wispy white hair stuck his head out the window and shouted, "Oi, come back in the morning young man, we're closed!"

Determined to get some answers, Hermione said, "I'm a young girl, thank you very much, and I need to talk to you tonight, Mr Ollivander. I'm afraid I have some bad news about your sister."

Over an hour later, Hermione sat on a spindly chair inside the wand shop, a pair of candles providing illumination. She told Ollivander everything. How her wand had warned her about him and his sister. How she had helped Hermione find the poem and introduced her to spell-making. She explained in detail about the vineyard she'd visited in dreams and visions, including the time she'd seen Ollivander slaughtering magical creatures in order to make wands.

Hermione found that, once she started telling the story, she couldn't stop until it was done. She included facts that didn't pertain to Rowena's room or her wand, mentioning both Terry Boot and the Weasley twins multiple times. When Hermione reached the part about Rowena's room, she cried, but the words poured out faster than her tears. When she stopped talking, Ollivander had stood, and begun to pace.

"She's truly gone then," he said after a while, a note of awe in his voice, "If what you say is true, then the core of her Lichdom, the physical manifestation of her memories and spirit… you destroyed it."

Hermione nodded, throat sore from so much talking and crying. Ollivander stopped pacing, sitting down on the room's other chair and letting out a heavy sigh.

"I didn't know that she'd replaced my sister until after we'd both graduated from Hogwarts," Ollivander said softly, a faraway look in his eyes, "She sat us down, me, my father, and my mother. Told us who she was… what she had done. When my father grew upset, she laughed, explained that we should feel honored. He tried to fight, but she stopped him before he could cast a single spell. I didn't even bother to draw my wand. My father was a three time european dueling champion. If he couldn't defeat her, what could a scrawny seventeen year old have done? Mind you, this is all before she was married. I don't think Paul ever knew, poor bloke."

Ollivander shook his head, then continued "Anyways, she told us that our family was important to her, that she had chosen members of our family as vessels before."

A question occurred to Hermione, and she asked, "But she wouldn't need a new vessel for decades, why reveal herself to you if she didn't have to?"

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Ollivander explained, "My family is one of the few who know the secrets of wand-lore. We guard these secrets carefully, never writing anything down, passing the knowledge orally from parent to child. It turns out, our ancestors did not discover how to make wands, she taught them. In exchange for taking our sister, I was taught how to create wands more potent that had been seen in generations."

"Like my wand?" Hermione asked, and when Ollivander nodded, she followed up with another question, one that had motivated her to walk across half of London in the middle of the night, "Why did you choose me?"

Mr Ollivander did not answer immediately, and when he did, he sounded tired, "My instructions were simply to find a young witch, native to this island, with plenty of magical potential. She seemed confident she could hoodwink the Sorting Hat, no matter who I chose."

There was a long pause, then he continued, "To be honest, I chose you because you reminded me of my sister, you know, before she was replaced. It probably sounds crazy. After what happened to Elaine, why would I choose a girl just like her as the next of that woman's sacrifices? I can't really explain it, but that's why I chose you… I am sorry, Miss Granger, for everything my actions have caused you to go through."

Slightly underwhelmed by this answer, Hermione moved on to another subject, "Something is wrong with my magic. I can barely cast spells with my wand and I'm weaker than I was two years ago, even with incantations and everything I've learned."

"Yes, I had noticed," Ollivander said, covering a yawn with one hand, "Worry not, you will recover. In preparation for taking on an older, more powerful spirit, your magical limits were 'stretched' beyond what should have been possible, even with that wand. You are experiencing an effect that is roughly akin to magical whiplash."

Hermione wasn't sure she completely understood what he meant, but she had two more important questions.

With a deep breath, she asked "Who was she? Do you know her original identity?"

Ollivander raised his eyebrows in surprise and said, "Do you really not know?"

Hermione shrugged, "I'm fairly certain, but want to hear it from you."

"Fair enough," Ollivander said with a chuckle, "But how about this, let me answer in a way she would find particularly amusing."

The thin man hopped to his feet, more spry than Hermione would expect of someone his age. He fetched a quill, ink and a piece of parchment, then began writing. He occasionally mumbled to himself while counting on his fingers.

The sun began to brighten the sky, and Hermione thought, "At least it will be daylight for my walk back to King's Cross."

She waited patiently until Ollivander announced, "Finished!" Then he handed over the parchment for Hermione to read.

"One of the greatest, best one of the four,

One life not enough, she wanted one more,

Too many secrets, too much to ignore,

Two lives not enough, she needed two more,

Three was enough, not another she swore, Three hundred lives passed, she still wanted more,

Would she have stopped, we will never be sure,

But thanks to you, she will take lives no more."

Hermione found it odd that, between Peeves and Ollivander, two poems had been made in celebration of Rowena's death.

"Thank you for speaking with me," Hermione said politely, "and, I'm sorry for waking you in the middle of the night, but before I head back to catch my bus, I did have one more question,"

Ollivander nodded, so Hermione asked, "How did the Ministry know I'm a witch? How do they know if underage students are using magic outside of school?"

Ollivander's face lit up with a grin at her question, and he said, "For Hogwarts students living near other witches and wizards, the only thing keeping them from using magic outside of school is their parents or guardians. For someone like you, even wandless magic can be detected because you live around muggles. The Ministry finds it easier to differentiate who cast a spell when there are only three possible candidates in a ten mile radius."

"I see," Hermione answered, a sour expression on her face, dreams of spending the summer casting spells crushed by Ollivander's words.

The wandmaker continued to grin, and in an offhand voice, he said, "If only you knew someone who lived and worked in a place frequented by witches and wizards. Still, you would have to convince that person to let you practice magic in their home."

Ollivander stroked his chin, pretending to consider the problem, "To get someone to agree to this, you would need leverage over them. It's too bad you're not in possession of any valuable information. For example, the trade secrets of a lucrative and clandestine magical industry would be useful."

Mr Ollivander stood, and held out his hand for Hermione to shake, "Well, good luck Miss Granger, maybe our paths will cross again someday."

Hermione's lips slowly curled up into a brilliant smile and she stood, shaking Ollivander's hand and saying, "I hope so too. How about two weeks from tomorrow?"

Ollivander chuckled, "Sounds fine, but maybe not so early in the morning, I usually have my first cuppa around nine o'clock."

Hermione nodded, still smiling as she lifted one end of her trunk by its handle and walked towards the shop's exit. She left Diagon Alley and wandered slowly back to King's Cross Station on aching legs. She did not know the way, and got turned around multiple times, but Hermione made it back to the station with over an hour to spare. She checked in at the counter, got her ticket, and was allowed to get on early. After storing her trunk, Hermione found a seat at the back of the bus.

Despite having stayed up all night and the miles she'd walked, Hermione was kept awake by one worrying thought, and it wasn't about Ravenclaw, her wand, or even Voldemort, "What on earth are my parents going to say when they see my hair?"