Chapter One
Hermione groaned as her alarm clock went off for the third time. It was 6.30 am, and unless she wanted to be late, she thought it best to get up. Yawning and stretching, she pulled herself from the warmth of her four-poster bed, staggered across her room, and into the marble tiled bathroom. As the jets of hot water from the showerhead hit her body, her thoughts finally began to arrange themselves into a coherent order, allowing her to think clearly for the first time that day.
Her mind went back to the wonderful holiday she had spent with her family at her home in Hertfordshire. It was very rare that Hermione was able to get away from Hogwarts at Christmas, but this year she had made a concerted effort to try and spend more time with her parents, whom she normally only got to see during the summer break. Being muggles, there was very little they understood about the magical world, and all in it. As a consequence, Hermione was becoming increasingly aware of the chasm growing between herself and her parents and younger brother, Mathew. She thought back to her childhood; when the world had seemed like a perfectly happy place, in which nothing could go wrong, and no one got hurt. She was four years old when the local educational psychologist pronounced her to be gifted. At the time, her parents had been absolutely thrilled with this revelation, and her education had taken on greater dimensions. She had moved up to the year 2 class, as this was thought to present a more stimulating challenge to her than the infant class. Her parents had also insisted on piano, violin and singing lessons, which she had carried on until she had left for Hogwarts.
Hermione remembered only too well the day her magical powers had first manifested themselves. She was four and a half years of age. It was a sunny Tuesday afternoon, and the children had been allowed to play in the huge sand pit that dominated most of the children's playground. Hermione had decided to build herself a huge sandcastle, using one of the big yellow buckets most appropriate for this activity. As she filled her bucket up, with the intention of turning it upside-down to make the main part of the castle, three boys had approached her, and before she knew what was happening, they had snatched the bucket from her, pushing her face first in to the sand pit. What happened next happened so fast, no one saw exactly what transpired. One moment, Hermione was spluttering while trying to pull herself out of the sandpit, the next, all the sand had flown out of the pit and landed on the three boys, making them choke and splutter as they fought to breathe through the sand that clogged their mouths and noses. No one had been able to explain how this had happened, although Hermione had received some odd looks from some of the other children. From that day onwards, they began to treat the little girl in their midst with a lot more respect than previously.
Hermione grinned at this memory. Stepping out of the shower, she donned a fluffy bathrobe with the Gryffindor lion emblazoned on one shoulder, whilst wandering over to her huge bedroom window. Pulling back the curtains, she gazed out at the Hogwarts grounds, laid out below her. Untouched snow covered the grounds as far as the eye could see, and the branches of the trees looked skeletal in their fragility. In the distance, a plume of smoke rose steadily from Hagrid's hut, which was just visible on the edge of the grounds. In the east, a pale sun was just starting to rise in a crystal clear sky, promising a cold crisp day. Hermione smiled, as she viewed this tranquil scene. An unreal feeling stole over her while gazing at the grounds, and she once again allowed her mind to wander at will.
Unbidden, her thoughts turned to the list of tasks she had promised herself to accomplish at the end of last term. One of these was to finally after over a years preparation, become an Animagus. This was an ambition she Ron and Harry had shared with no one, not even Professor McGonagall, as they intended to remain unregistered, and hopefully untraceable by Voldemort. Hermione was only too aware of Voldemort's hatred for muggle-born witches and wizards. She knew that as a very powerful witch, as well as being one of Harry Potter's best friends, she was one of his primary targets. Her worst nightmare was that he would kill her parents just to hurt her – something he was perfectly capable of doing.
Putting an end to this gloomy train of thought, she turned away from the window with its spectacular view, went over to the huge wardrobe and yanked it open. She looked at the plain black robes that she was required to wear as part of the school uniform with distaste. Long, with wide sleeves, they were comely and impractical. She promised herself that the day she left Hogwarts, would be the day she dispensed with such impossible clothing. Dressing quickly, she began to dry and comb her now long curly hair. On her mother's insistence, Hermione had allowed it to grow long, and to her surprise, found that its weight stopped it from being bushy and unmanageable. It now hung down to her waist in a cascade of chestnut curls, which regularly drew admiring glances from the male population of the school. Grinning at herself in the triple dressing-table mirror, she wondered if there were any charms which could put her hair up by magic, and mentally added this to her list of things to research in the library.
Ten minutes later, Hermione was ready. Picking up her bag and wand, she stepped out of the room, locked the door with a quick flick of her wand and went down the spiral stairs to the Gryffindor common room. Crossing to the portrait of the fat lady, she pushed it open, and went down to breakfast through the still quiet castle. Entering the great hall, she glanced up at the enchanted ceiling to see a weak sun shining down on the hall's occupants. She made her way over to the Gryffindor table and sat down beside Ginny, who was already halfway through her breakfast.
"Morning, Gin," Hermione greeted, pouring herself a large cup of black coffee to give her a kick-start to the day. Ginny turned and smiled at her.
"Mione, what are you doing up so early?" came the sleepy response.
"I could ask you the same question," Hermione smiled. "How were the holidays? I didn't see much of you last night."
"No, I was really busy unpacking. You know what it's like on your first day back. Yeah, the hols were fine. Well, as fine as they can be with Charlie home for Christmas. It was a full house and you can imagine the rest. Oh, by the way, thanks for your present - I really loved it."
"Well, I was hoping it might come in use - maybe at next term's Graduation Dance?" Hermione winked meaningfully at Ginny, causing her to go a bright shade of scarlet, just as Ron and Harry entered the hall. Waving, they made their way over to the girls and threw themselves down onto the seats opposite them.
"Morning you two. What are you discussing?" Ron asked, as he loaded his plate with toast, eggs, bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms and sausages. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.
"Tell me something Ron," Hermione said, "Where exactly do you put all that food? I don't know anyone who eats as much at breakfast as you do – well, maybe Crab and Goyle – but they probably each eat as much as half of Gryffindor put together!"
"Excluding Ron that is!" Harry chipped in grinning.
"Excuse me!" Ron protested, through a mouthful of eggs and toast, "Is it 'Pick on Ron Day' today? Why's everyone being so horrid to poor old me? It isn't my problem if the rest of you aren't man enough to enjoy a hearty breakfast. As Mum says, I'm a growing man who needs his food, so stop picking on me just because you're jealous!"
"You sound just like my Aunt Petunia when you say that," teased Harry. "You should have heard her when Dudley had to go on that diet at the end of our third year, 'Dudley is a growing boy who needs plenty of food.'" All four burst out laughing at this.
Ron and Harry could be such comedians when they chose to. Hermione grinned at them. It was good to be back with her friends. It was strange, she mused, but Ron, Harry and Ginny were like brothers and sisters to her. She supposed living with them, and in Harry and Ron's case, having most of their classes together, helped deepen this bond of affection between them. She was probably closer to these three than to her own parents. It cost her a pang to admit this, but she had always been one to face up to things rather than bury them under layers of pretence.
"Hello, Earth to Hermione!" Harry's voice broke in to her musings, and at the same time, she noticed that Ron was waving his hand energetically a few inches in front of her nose, which was in danger of being sliced off.
"Sorry," she apologised, looking up into their faces. "What were you saying?"
"Never mind that, what were you thinking?" Ron's question caught Hermione off guard and she blinked confusedly up at him.
"What? Oh nothing. I was just wondering about today's classes and whether I'd completed all my homework." This remark was met with snorts of incredulity from both Ron and Harry, but Ginny fixed Hermione with a piercing look that said only too clearly. "Like hell! The rest of the world may believe you but I know you too well."
"So you two, have you done all your homework yet?" Hermione now asked Harry and Ron.
"Yup, finished the whole lot," Harry grimaced, "Even that horrid essay of Snape's. I swear he becomes more like an overgrown bat every day. He probably dreams up new ways of torturing us while in the bath."
"You mean Snape takes the time and effort to wash himself?" Ron asked incredulously.
Blocking out their voices, Hermione allowed her attention to wander around the hall, which was now full of students and staff. It was as her eyes roamed over the Slytherins, that her gaze encountered that of Draco Malfoy. There was something in his expression she could not put her finger on, which made her look more intently at him. His look was speculative, almost as though he was trying to decide what it was the small group had been laughing about. Because the usual emotions Malfoy displayed were contempt and hatred towards Ron Harry and herself, Hermione wondered at the change.
"What does Malfoy think he's looking at?" Ron suddenly asked, causing Hermione to swing round to stare at him. "You noticed it too, Hermione. What d'you think he's after? The nasty little ferret – I wouldn't put it past him to be thinking up some horrid scheme to get either Hagrid or us into trouble. The git."
Ron's words were drowned by the arrival of the post. A large barn owl fluttered down in front of Hermione's plate, clutching her copy of the Daily Prophet. Taking it from the owl, she opened it with a sinking feeling in her stomach. She dreaded opening the paper these days, because nine times out of ten, a picture of the Dark Mark would be splashed across the front page, and the paper would be full of news of the latest victims of Voldemort. But today there was nothing more exciting than the outcome of the national Confederation of Wizards conference.
"Is there anything in there about You Know Who?" Ginny's question was wary.
"No," Hermione smiled. "Here, take a look for yourself."
She handed Ginny the paper. Finishing her breakfast, she began gathering her things together. Ron glanced up from his breakfast to ask, "Where are you going? Don't tell me – not the bloody library. I swear you spend more time in that place than with us."
Hermione just smiled at him before getting up from the long Gryffindor table. "Bye Gin, have a good day, and I'll see you two in charms," she said, and turning swiftly, left the Great Hall. There was still half an hour until the start of her first lesson, Arithmancy, and she intended to use it in researching animagi, which would take up all the spare time she had. Going up the marble staircase towards the library, she thought of Sirius, Harry's godfather. A familiar pang of sadness engulfed her, and she shivered pulling her robes more tightly around her. It had now been over eighteen months since the night in the Department of Mysteries where Sirius had died, but she still missed him, and was well aware of the fact that Harry still blamed himself for Sirius's death. If Hermione had not been so engrossed in her own thoughts, she may have noticed the figure following her stealthily at a distance, taking care to keep in the shadows.
Sighing with relief, Hermione pushed open one of the heavy doors to the library and entered the silent room. The library was always empty at this time of day; meaning Hermione would not be disturbed in her search. Smiling at Madam Pince, the librarian, she made her way over to the transfiguration section and began searching the titles along the crowded shelves. She found nothing that would be of any use, and began wondering if the material she needed would be in the restricted section. The only way she could get a book out from the restricted section was to get a signed note from a teacher, giving her permission to make use of it. She decided to leave this for a while and went over to the section on charms. Almost immediately, she found what she wanted: 'Charms to Enhance Beauty' and 'Simple Ways To Creating a Stunning Effect'. She was just flicking through the former when the bell went, signalling the start of her first Arithmancy lesson. Quickly, she pushed both books into her already very heavy bag and set off. She didn't want Lavender or Parvati knowing about these books, or she would never hear the end of it.
The Arithmancy classroom was large and square. Taking her seat at the front, Hermione smiled at Professor Vector, a thin witch in her late sixties, with salt-and-pepper coloured hair. Around Hermione, the rest of the seats began filling up with tired looking students, all sporting glum expressions at the thought of the term ahead. The class consisted of five Ravenclaws, three Slytherins, three Hufflepuffs and Hermione.
A loud bang beside Hermione announced the arrival of Eloise Midgin, a tall, angular Ravenclaw with dark hair pulled back in a scraggy bun. She grinned good naturedly and gabbled, "Hermione, how are things? How were the hols? Did you get the Arithmancy equations old Vector set last term done? Don't you think my acne has cleared up? Doesn't my skin look much more clearer than before?"
"Yes, it does look clearer. What've you been using on it?"
Eloise grinned wickedly before saying, "It's this thing my mum got from the doctor. I don't know the name, but it is really doing wonders. Mum doesn't hold with all these potions and says muggle drugs are just as good, if not safer. I think I agree with her. I mean, that business at the start of our fourth year was pretty painful and I swear my nose still feels weird!"
Hermione had to smile at this. Eloise had the rare gift of being able to laugh at herself, and in the process, making others laugh as well.
At that moment, a tall blond-haired figure stalked in to the room, throwing a dirty look towards the two girls. In response, Hermione stuck two fingers up at him and then promptly turned her back on him.
"I don't believe you just did that," whispered a nervous looking Eloise. "You do realise that was Malfoy – I mean they are really powerful. If I were you, I wouldn't antagonise him – you never know what he'll do. They say that his family are on You Know Who's side, so it's best not to mess with them..."
Hermione turned to face the Ravenclaw, "Eloise, why should I be afraid of him? At the end of the day, he is just like you and me; an Avada Kedavra curse is just as likely to finish him as it is us. The only difference between him and us is the fact that he is an arrogant git, who thinks everyone else is beneath him, and we don't! I don't care if his family are on the Dark side – all the more reason to hate him I say." She was cut off as Professor Vector cleared her throat.
Two hours later, Hermione emerged from Arithmancy, smiling. This was her favourite subject at Hogwarts and one she was thinking of reading at university. Pushing her way through the crowded corridors, she arrived early in the charms classroom and was rewarded by a huge smile from Professor Flitwick.
Seizing the opportunity she asked, "Professor, I was wondering if you could help me. There's a book I need from the restricted section, 'Advanced Charms for the Advanced Student', but I need a permission note from you to get it out. I was thinking it wouldn't do any harm to do a bit of extra reading."
Professor Flitwick beamed at her, and grabbing a quill and a piece of parchment, he quickly scribbled the required note. At that moment, the rest of the class started trickling in to the room.
Grinning, Hermione thanked him before rushing to her usual spot with Harry and Ron at the back of the classroom and throwing herself down onto her seat. Looking up, she saw the two boys making their way over to her with scowls on their faces.
"Damn it," Ron hissed, "I just don't understand that essay McGonagall set us and we have to hand it in tomorrow –I'm doomed!"
"Well, if you didn't insist on leaving your homework until the last minute, you wouldn't be in such a fix now, would you?" Hermione began, but was interrupted by Professor Flitwick clearing his throat.
"Today, we'll be experimenting with the contraceptio charm. I thought that as you are all getting older, it is time this was taught you. I am sure it will come in handy to some of you and is very likely to come up in your NEWT's." His words were drowned by sniggers coming from all over the classroom. Everyone apart from Hermione was sniggering, looking extremely red faced, their gazes directed towards the tops of their desks.
"According to Madam Pomfrey," the tiny professor went on, "some people have attempted the charm with some rather disastrous results. Please open your books to page 323. I want you to practice on these dolls."
Clambering down from his pile of books, he went over to a cabinet from which he extracted a large box, which he then levitated onto his desk. "It is quite simple. You simply point your wand at the belly of the doll and say "Contraceptio". If the spell has worked, a bright purple light should engulf the doll's abdomen for a moment before disappearing. This charm will work for as long as is needed. I will teach you the counter-charm in the next lesson." He started handing out the dolls, and the students set to work practicing the charm.
Hermione raised her wand, pointed it at the doll's middle, and said, "Contraceptio!"
After a moment, a feeble purple light appeared at the end of her wand, and then reluctantly headed towards the doll, fading before it reached it. Hermione frowned. It was very unlike her to get this charm wrong, especially as having decided to do some extra reading over the holidays; she had already practiced the charm. She tried again, and this time, a brighter light appeared at the wand-tip, but it was not what she had aimed for. By now, Hermione was starting to get worried, how could this be happening when she had already practiced how to do the charm? Gritting her teeth, she concentrated very hard on the doll in front of her and once again said, "Contraceptio."
This time, a bright purple light shot out of the wand straight towards the doll's abdomen, which it then engulfed before disappearing. Leaning back in her chair, Hermione took in a few deep breaths to try and clear her head. She felt exhaustion creeping over her, but could not understand why. Maybe she was tired and had not got enough sleep the night before, although she doubted this. She knew the charm didn't take all that much concentration to perform, having done it before. It was strange, but she was getting the feeling that she and her wand had been at odds, and by getting it to perform the spell, she had been forcing it to work against its will. But how could this be? Wearily, she performed the charm a few more times for Professor Flitwick's benefit, and then to her immense relief, the bell went for lunch.
Hermione didn't know how she managed to get through the rest of the day, with the worry of her earlier performance in Charms lurking at the back of her mind. Finally, after two cold hours spent shivering in the greenhouses in Herbology, she headed to the place which would hopefully provide her with some answers – the library.
Entering the musty room, she quickly found the section she was looking for – Wands. Taking down a couple of large leather-bound books, she carried them over to her favourite table, which was situated between two large shelves with a big window facing it. Seating herself, she pulled the first of the books, 'Compatibility between Wands and their Owners', towards her and set to work perusing it. Right at the end of the book, she found what she was looking for:
'The amount of magic a wand is able to direct is dependent on a variety of factors: The wood from which it is made; the reluctance of the magical creature providing the core parts; the flexibility of the wand... When a witch or wizard buys a wand, compatibility is based on the person's magical energy flow, coupled with the amount of magical energy the wand is able to channel. When a person buys their first wand, wand-makers will take a set of Bridicate measurements, which give a rough indication of the person's magical potential. These are used as a means of guidance for the wand-maker, who will then get the person to try wands that match their magical power. In most cases, this power does not change, and the same wand will work for the duration of a person's lifetime. However, there are a few cases in which a witch or wizard may find they 'out-grow' their wand. This means their magical potential has increased, and the wand can no longer handle the extra magical flow. This causes the person to require much more concentration than usual for any kind of magic to be performed. This phenomenon is very rare and only occurs in witches or wizards who are very magically powerful. It is not known why this extra magical potential is awakened later on, but it is manifested during their magical education. It has been suggested, however, that these wizards and witches are unable to handle this extra magical power until they are older.'
Hermione sat back, her fingers steepled beneath her chin. Relief swept over her and she began to breathe more easily. She was thankful to find that the problem lay with her wand, rather than with her. Since the incident in Charms, she had been questioning her own magical abilities, wondering if her inability to cast the charm had something to do with the fact she was muggle-born. There were a few students, in Slytherin in particular, who saw heritage as being a determining factor in how magical a person was. Those people such as herself, who came from non-magic families, were viewed as second-rate citizens, with very little magical ability. Hating prejudice in any shape or form, Hermione had fought this stigma throughout her time at Hogwarts, working extra hard to prove both to herself and those around her, that being muggle-born did not mean she was less able to do magic, compared to those from all-magic families.
Pulling herself together, she pondered the problem in hand. The only way she could resolve this issue was to get a wand that was compatible with her. She had not forgotten the problems Ron had had in his second year, when his wand had broken due to an encounter with the Whomping Willow. She was not prepared to contemplate working with a wand that did not allow her to do her best, especially in her final year of NEWTS'. But how was she to get a compatible wand? The best wand shop in Europe, Ollivander's, was situated in Diagon Alley, a long way from Hogwarts. She knew that she would not be allowed out of school to go and buy it, and so this left only one alternative – going to Diagon Alley without permission. For Hermione, who hated breaking even the smallest of rules, this was a momentous choice to make, but one which she decided was worth running the risk of getting caught.