Before you read the next chapter:
I don't have enough webspace on to apologize for how long it has been since I last wrote. Just assume I am really, really, really, really, really sorry!!! It was like time just had a mind of its own and completely ran away from me. I could give you all of my excuses (and believe me, there are plenty) but I'll just say, "I am so sorry."
Now, thank you for all the reviews you have given during my absence, it was very enjoyable to sign into my email account and see "237 New Messages". Well, it was enjoyable once I regained consciousness.
I continue to be blown away by the thoughtful and kind reviews I get, I am glad that people enjoy reading what I call "Saquoia's Crappy Scrappies".
Anyway, enough blabber from me, please enjoy this new (FINALLY) chapter.
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Chapter Six – Paululum
Ostracized.
Hermione had never once considered describing herself with the word, but here she was, sitting in the Great Hall at the Welcoming Feast without a single friend or even an acquaintance to talk to. The seat directly to her right was empty, it hadn't even been touched, and to her left was the end of the table. Across from her sat a third year with a bad cold whose only bit of conversation was to ask her if he could "borrow her napkin". She assured him that he could keep it.
"There will now be the sorting of the first years into houses." Came Professor McGonagall's voice, cutting through Hermione's thoughts and snapping her attention to what was happening at the head of the hall. The Sorting Hat and a three-legged stool were brought out, the very same articles that had been used to sort her into Gryffindor six years ago.
Six years…
The Sorting Hat opened its brim of a mouth and sang in its carrying baritone voice, but Hermione missed most of the song, strings of it floating to her ears and leaving as quickly as they had come. She was only shocked out of her reverie by the thunderous applause the ending of Sorting Hat's song caused.
"Casanct, Timothy," McGonagall called, and a small boy stumbled forward, shaking violently. He tripped over his feet on the way to the stool and nearly broke his nose before righting himself and shakily seating himself on the stool.
"HUFFLEPUFF." The hat roared, and the Hufflepuff table burst out in tumultuous applause for their newest house member.
Not once did Hermione try to engage anyone she had formerly thought of as friends in conversation. If she were to be honest with herself, there was frankly no point in trying. They had made it obvious on the train that no one in Gryffindor wanted anything to do with her. She might even venture to say in the entire school, as she thought back to how Draco had acted not too long ago.
"Geneco, Drew," McGonagall called. Hermione was not paying the sorting any attention. In fact, she was only drawn back to the Sorting when the hat bellowed, "GRYFFINDOR!" and the table at which she was seated rose in elation, screaming and roaring and thumping their newest member on the back.
The new first year had to sit next to Hermione, and she looked at him, but caught sight of Draco behind him, and forgot all about the new first year.
Thoughts shifting to him, to Draco Malfoy, the cause of her annoyance and perhaps more, Hermione tried to imagine what it was that had changed him, made him decide that it was no longer worth his time to be around her. She thought, desperately, of anything she might have said, done, but nothing came to her. Was it truly just 'one of those things' that people always says happened. Did they just grow apart?
"Mortorior, Kevin," continued McGonagall, but Hermione was no longer paying the new first years any attention.
Maybe, said a voice in her head, maybe he has realized he doesn't like you. That you are the mudblood he once thought you were. Or maybe he just likes Pansy better – you saw her, she is different now.
"Rexinson, Tracy," a short girl with blonde hair rose and the hat roared, "RAVENCLAW!"
Hermione had nothing to say to the voice in her head, and about that time, the last first year came to the stool.
"Sembeo, Michael," the boy walked forward, and took to the stool, not seeming nervous as the majority of the other first years had. But, then again, neither had Malfoy.
Don't think about him, she implored herself, and focused her attention on the first year at the front of the room.
The hat took a long time to decide, like it had done with Harry.
Don't think about him either.
Eventually, the hat called, "RAVENCLAW."
The blue-clad table burst into applause. Dumbledore rose and the hall fell silent, all eyes directed to his tall stature, twinkling eyes and long, silvery beard. There was something about Dumbledore that commanded your attention, and Hermione had yet to figure out what it was.
"Welcome," he said, "to another wonderful year at Hogwarts."
Wonderful. Hermione thought. Yeah, right.
"While I do have many announcements for this term, it is not the proper time for such things. I ask everyone to please, stuff your faces until your stomachs threaten to burst." As he spoke, he gestured his arm in grand grace and the tables before him gleaned with food.
The first years gasped in amazement and Hermione smiled slightly to herself. She could barely remember a time when simple things like that had amazed her, even baffled her. It had all been so… magical. But not anymore. The table could turn into an elephant and she wouldn't so much as bat an eye. She had lost the wonder of it all.
The Hall around her immediately went into a feeding frenzy – students fought each other for the biggest lamb chops and the largest portions of kidney and steak pudding. Pumpkin juice containers were knocked over in the haste to gulp down every drop of the precious orange liquid that was possible. Hermione watched, for the first time, not feeling compelled to join in – just to watch.
Hermione ate little at that dinner; she mostly watched her plate and the people around her.
As the plates cleared themselves of the last of the desserts, to the loud and obvious protests of some, Dumbledore rose once more, and the chatter fell to a quiet whisper, and then to silence.
"Now that we have all had a bite or two in which to eat," Dumbledore says, "I must say that it is time I make my announcements. Some are enjoyable, and others are of the gravest importance. I urge you to listen to what I have to say."
If possible, the silence in the Hall grew quieter. Every eye, even those of the unruly Slytherins, was upon their headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. It was not often he opened his welcoming speech with the word 'gravest' in it.
"For those of you who have grown accustomed to visiting the wizarding village of Hogsmead, it is my disappointment to be the one to inform you that no students will be permitted into Hogsmead this year." Hermione had to guess the last few words as a chorus of boos and unanswered questions caused uproar in the Hall. The third years were especially indignant; this was to be their first year they were allowed into the village of Hogsmead.
Dumbledore waited until the students calmed down before continuing.
"While I do not pretend to think this is not a displeasure amongst you as students, it is not without reason." Dumbledore said, and the Hall quieted once more, waiting to hear why Dumbledore would not allow students into Hogsmead, and more importantly, what it was that had caused such a stir.
"I hope that every one of Hogwarts' students reads the newspaper, but I will not wallow in the delusion. For those of you that know, I apologize for this repeat of what you know, but for those who don't, there have been robberies, robberies of the wand, of the magic. A wizard or witch's wand, while not the magic itself, is an essential key in the use of magic and without it, a witch or wizard may find himself in peril.
"There is speculation as to the whereabouts of the thousands of wands that have seemingly vanished without a trace, but I believe only one." Dumbledore paused, and the silence was thick with tension and apprehension. Not a single word was uttered as the population of Hogwarts held to Dumbledore's every word.
"Centuries ago," he continued, "before Hogwarts was founded, before our Ministry was adopted, there was a war. A war between not one, but two races that bore the virga, the wand. The humans, the witches and wizards of today, and another race, the Paululum, fought for sole dominance of the world. 'For,' it was said, 'there cannot be two races of equal power.' And a war was fought. The humans forced the Paululum deep within the earth, where they have been silenced for centuries, in what some call the eternal sleep.
"But they are not gone. Those that believe they have gone are fools. Merely assembled beneath the earth, the Paululum are awaiting their moment to reclaim what they feel has been lost. The world. Tempus Reverti. Time to return." Dumbledore looked across the sea of upturned faces, most of which had gone gaunt with shock and perhaps fear.
"The world is a funny thing," Dumbledore said after a long pause, taking time to appear to look each of his students in the eye as he spoke. "Time…" he said, allowing the word to echo around the Hall before continuing. "Will always repeat itself."
A small bit of babble broke out over the Great Hall, and when Dumbledore finished his announcements, Hermione had not heard any of them, nor had the greater majority of the student population. Whispers were flying back and forth after the speech Dumbledore had just made. Paululum? They whispered, the name uttered as if it were the name of the Dark Lord himself.
Hermione had never heard of these Paululum. Never. Not once. And she did consider herself moderately well read. Surely she would have come across this race in her deeper studies of History of Magic. Something like a war between two dominant races surely should have – in the very least – come up.
As students were excused and began their migratory path to their respective dormitories, Hermione couldn't help but wonder if Dumbledore's explanation had made her head full with more questions than answers.
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Looking down at the parchment schedule in her hands, Hermione made her way to her first class – Defense Against the Dark Arts. Dreading this year's new teacher, Hermione pushed open the door.
Behind the teachers' desk stood a woman, with raven black hair and pale blue eyes. She looked… miniature. Her proportions were that of any other person in the school, just scaled down. Her height, as Hermione guessed, was about four and a half feet tall.
Tearing her eyes from the new teacher, Hermione cast her eyes about the classroom to find an empty seat. There were two: one next to Draco and one next to Harry and Ron.
"Damn," Hermione whispered aloud to herself.
"Please take your seat," came a voice. The voice sounded more like a hiss and croak than anything else.
"Sorry, Ma'am," Hermione said, but did not move.
"We cannot wait all day," the teacher said curtly and gestured Hermione to the seat next to Draco. Hermione took it, reluctantly, and didn't cast Draco a look.
"My name," the teacher said, taking her place at the front of the room, "is Professor Lacunami. I am your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for this year. In this class, you will not learn about 'dark' and 'light' or 'right' and 'wrong'. It is not about right or wrong, black or white. It is about survival."
Silence met these words, these words that set up what sounded to be a very depressing term in Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Lavender rose her hand. Professor Lacunami inclined her head Lavender's way.
"Please, Professor," she said, "how can there not be a right and wrong? Isn't that what everything is founded on? Knowing the difference between what should and shouldn't be done."
"There comes a time when it is not about being a good person but about being a living person." Professor Lacunami answered simply, and then flicked her wand at the blackboard.
"Page 247. Please read the author's views on the use of magic against an unknown enemy, and then prepare to have a class discussion this Wednesday. Your homework will be done from the chapter questions in the back of the book. There is no need to talk." Professor Lacunami instructed them.
The rest of class was spent with heads bent silently over books, drinking in the information.
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"It is happening," the figure said, his congregation of minute citizens before him once more, watching. "The revolution has begun."
A roar of approval sprang from the crowd and fists were pumped into the air.
Finally… after an eternity of waiting, biding, it was time. Finally. Finally.
Finally.
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By lunch, Hermione had completely forgotten everything except her growing annoyance with someone whose name was Draco Malfoy. After steadily ignoring her through their entire Herbology class, in which they were partners, and brushing her off completely when Pansy came into view at break period, Hermione was ready to whack him upside the head.
"Draco." She said sharply, but he paid her no mind. "Malfoy." She said, heavy annoyance dripping from his name like blood. He finally turned to look at her.
"What?" He demanded. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm busy."
"Busy with what?" Hermione demanded in the same bossy tone he had taken with her. "Shoving your head further and further up your—"
"Better watch your mouth, Granger."
"What's your problem?" Hermione asked, giving him a cold look of indifference, despite the Hermione inside of her, crying out to be heard, the one that wanted to beg him to stop acting like this. The same one that wanted her old friends back and her life to be back into the order she had once believed it to be in.
"You." He said simply, not showing a trace of emotion.
Hermione had no snappy comeback for this response, because she hadn't expected it.
"M-me?" she choked out in a hollow laugh, halfway between sorrow and scorn.
"Yeah, Granger, you." He said, and turned away from her again.
"What do you—" Hermione began, but never had the chance to finish as Pansy skipped over to Draco and ruffled his hair. He didn't even bat an eye and he left Hermione standing in the hall, shocked, the rest of the students milling around her, not even noticing her solitary figure as she watched Draco's disappear into the rest of the crowd. She felt like the world had stopped dead still.
I'll kill him.
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This chapter was shorter than the other ones, and I am sorry, but I just see no way to lengthen it. I updated at least, right?
Please, please, please review! I want to know what you think.
THANK YOU for reading!
- - Saquoia - -
Hey, for those who were wondering, Professor Lacunami's name is pronounced 'la-soo-NAM-ie'.