Authors Note: Please Review, and let me know what you think of this chapter, it's a very significant chapter, and I would like to know if you think Lucius has behaved in character or not. Also, does the thing about the Lestintias make sense to you, as it is going to play a major part in the story as a whole. As ever, any other comments and suggestions are welcome!
Chapter Three
Sunlight streamed in through the gap in the curtains, falling in a wide strip across the large four-poster bed. Blinking dazedly, Hermione rolled over to squint blearily at the time on her alarm clock. It was 8 am, not yet time for her to get up. Relaxing back in to the warmth of the feather mattress, she snuggled against Crookshanks' sleeping form, lying sprawled out beside her. It was not often that Crookshanks chose to spend the night with her, preferring instead to hunt rats and mice that may be lurking about in the dungeons or grounds.
The silence engulfed Hermione, making her feel as though she were the only person alive. No doubt the rest of Gryffindor tower was still fast a sleep, and would remain so for the better part of the next two hours. Smiling lazily, she pushed back the covers and hoisted herself out of the warmth of the bed. The room was pleasantly warm, with a crackling log fire roaring in the grate. Stripping off her nightclothes, Hermione showered quickly, pulled on her fluffy bathrobe, and went to the window to look out. Pulling back the heavy curtains, she looked down at the grounds sprawled out below her. A black speck was just visible sitting in the branches of the nearest tree, while a few birds flittered in and out of the trees, taking care to avoid the sharp-eyed creature watching them intently. She recognised the black speck as a cat belonging to Millicent Bulstrode, a Slytherin in Hermione's year, with whom Hermione had very little in common. She wondered if the cat had a personality to match that of its owner; she fervently hoped not as it looked quite nice.
Reluctantly turning away from the window, Hermione focused her thoughts on the day ahead, and on to the task she was determined to carry out. Going over to the wardrobe, she pulled it open and stared thoughtfully at its contents. Being a Saturday, the students were not required to wear the customary, and in Hermione's opinion, rather ugly, black robes that made up the Hogwarts uniform. Pulling out a pair of faded jeans and jumper, she dressed quickly and then secured her hair at the nape of her neck by a plain black clip. She intended changing later into more formal attire for her outing. Thrusting her feet in to a pair of trainers, she grabbed up her wand and left her room. Hurrying down the spiral staircase to the Gryffindor common room, she was just about to cross it, when a voice from the shadows stopped her.
"Mione, where are you going in such a hurry?"
Jumping slightly, Hermione turned to see Ginny curled up on one of the window seats, watching her. "Ginny, what are you doing here? I didn't think anyone was awake.
"I wanted to talk to you, as you seem to have avoided me since the start of term. Besides, I wasn't tired and thought I'd get up" Uncurling herself, Ginny too, crossed to the portrait hole where Hermione was standing. "Come on, let's go down to breakfast. There's no one else around so you can tell me what's bothering you, and don't deny it, there is definitely something on your mind!"
"Well, yeah there is, but I don't particularly want to talk about it." Hermione trailed off at the expression on Ginny's face. It vividly reminded her of an expression Mrs. Weasley often assumed while grilling Fred and George about a forbidden prank.
The two girls had known each other since Hermione's second year at Hogwarts. Over the years, they had become close friends and normally spent quite a lot of time together. Ginny, Hermione knew, was one of the few people who could see past her mask of efficiency, and the girls had built a friendship based on mutual liking and trust. Due to her constant tiredness, Hermione hadn't socialised much over the past few weeks, spending any spare time she had trying to catch up on her sleep, or practicing charms and spells to try and help her through lessons.
"What I mean is, this is something you can't really help me with, and the less people that know about it, the better it is." Hermione was of course referring to the problem of her wand.
"Knowing you, I doubt there's anyone apart from yourself who does know, so letting me in on the secret won't endanger it," Ginny's voice held a note of acidity that Hermione could not fail to notice.
"OK then, but don't judge or condemn me until you have heard me out."
The two girls made their way down through the castle, into the still deserted Great Hall. A few students could be seen dotted here and there, along the four House tables, all of them looking pale and heavy-eyed. Sitting down at the Gryffindor table, the two started eating.
In a low voice that would not carry to anyone passing, Hermione began to tell Ginny of the problems she was experiencing with her wand, and her subsequent decision. Once she had finished speaking, there was a slight pause as Ginny digested all that Hermione had told her.
Finally, she said in such a quiet voice that Hermione had to lean closer to her, in order to catch the words, "I remember Dad saying something once about a witch or wizard growing out of their wand. At the time, I didn't give it much thought. You know what Dad's like – he is always giving tip bits of information at the most inappropriate times, and after a while you just, well, ignore him. But he did mention that it was something about the person being really powerfully magical. Apparently, such people are rare, and often possess a gift of some sort, which only manifests itself when the person's full power is unleashed. Dad said that there's very little known about this as it is so rare, so I don't even think it has been researched much."
Deciding not to pursue the latter part of Ginny's explanation, Hermione asked, "What do you mean a gift? What kind of gift? Is it good or…?" she felt slightly breathless as she voiced this question. She had been aware from her reading that she had out grown her wand, but had not imagined the consequences of this, apart from the inconvenience of having to buy a new wand.
Ginny's brow was furrowed in thought, and after a short pause, she said hesitantly, "That's just it, you don't know what the gift is. The last person to have outgrown their wand developed the gift of reading minds or something of that description. Oh I wish I had paid attention when Dad was talking about it."
"I think the first thing to do is to get myself a compatible wand. Once I have that, maybe things will become a bit clearer," Hermione was aware her voice held a lot more conviction than she felt. "I'm going to get changed now. If Ron or Harry ask you, you saw me and I said I would probably be in Snape's lab finishing up an experiment. Hopefully their disdain for Snape will prevent them from going there to look for me. I'll leave once everyone has left for Hogsmeade. Luckily my window faces the front of the castle, so I can keep an eye on things. It's important that Filch sees me leaving, but that Harry and Ron don't!"
Ginny frowned worriedly at Hermione. "Well, I'm not sure what you're doing is the right thing, but as you say, under the circumstances you have no other choice. Just remember to be back by five this evening, as that's when they expect us to be back from Hogsmeade. As you can't Apparate from Hogwarts or the grounds, the nearest place would be somewhere on the road outside, or the Forbidden Forest. There is a good clump of trees on the Hogsmeade road, which you can use as a cover when you Apparate. If I were you, I would Apparate into the ladies' toilets in the Leaky Cauldron, and go to Diagon Alley from there. Just make sure you're not caught or McGonagall will have your hide!" she gave an encouraging smile, as she went on, "Good luck, and don't do anything rash, or take any unnecessary risks."
"I didn't know you could Apparate into the ladies' toilets; there are anti-apparation wards on the whole of Diagon Alley, including the Leaky Cauldron, remember? It was all over the Daily Prophet last year! Anyway, what if someone sees me appearing from thin air in the toilets? I had planned to Apparate outside the Leaky Cauldron and go in that way." Hermione frowned in thought.
"Well," Ginny said lowering her voice to barely a murmur, "I think you're taking more of a risk Apparating amidst the muggles. Also you won't be protected there. There are Aurors all over Diagon Alley and in the Leaky Cauldron all the time, and as you're going to be alone, I think it's better to Apparate directly into a safe zone, if you can. Fred and George found a weak spot in the wards, and it's in the ladies' so I'd make use of it if I were you, just don't get caught! I doubt you'll run into any of the teachers, as they'll be patrolling Hogsmeade today, with all the students being out."
Ginny's suggestion made more sense than Hermione's original plan. It was less of a risk Apparating into the ladies' toilets, where even if someone did see her, it being a Saturday, they would probably not take much notice being too occupied with their own affairs. Apparating onto the pavement outside the Leaky Cauldron would be more risky, as this was not wizard territory as such. Besides, she thought, there would be more people about, both muggle and wizard, some of whom may not be too nice.
Smiling gratefully at her friend, Hermione finished her coffee, got up from the table and left the Great Hall. Reaching Gryffindor tower, she gave the password to the Fat Lady, and climbed into the room, just as Ron and Harry reached the bottom of the boys' staircase.
Smiling at them, she swiftly crossed the room, telling them over her shoulder that she would probably see them later, as she planned to do some potions research in Snape's Dungeon. Before either could reply, she had disappeared through the door, up the girls' staircase and entered her own room.
Going over to the wardrobe, she opened it, riffling through its contents. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, as she wondered what to wear. As she wanted to blend in, she thought robes would be best even though a lot of young people wore muggle clothes now days. She pulled out a set of robes Lavender and Parvati had given her on her last birthday. Made of soft cream wool with black edging, they were deceptively simple in design, although very well cut. Parvati had convinced Hermione that they were the height of fashion, as they were a 'Madam Tooley' creation. Madam Tooley was an exclusive designer of witches' attire.
Hermione fingered the soft fabric and once again wondered uneasily how much they had cost. Her friendship with Parvati and Lavender had not been a particularly close one, as Hermione preferring to spend most of her free time with Ron and Harry, had not made much of an effort to get to know them. However, over the last year, since she had acquired a room of her own, things had got better. She now spent more time with them, and in turn, they had tried to include her in their 'girly evenings', which Hermione had found to be quite interesting, and often useful. When they have given her the robes, they had told her they were a thank you, as well as a birthday present, for always helping them with work, even when she had very little time to spare. She had been deeply touched at this gesture of unexpected kindness, although so far she'd had no occasion to wear the robes.
Dressing swiftly, Hermione pulled her hair back in to an elegant knot, and to make herself appear older, applied a little eye make-up, a hint of blusher, and some lipstick. She completed her toilette by pulling on a pair of black leather boots with a three inch heel over her thick tights.
Once she was ready, she went into the bathroom to have a good look at the end result of her labours in the full-length mirror. Before her, stood a simply clad young woman, in robes, which, although not flamboyant as wizarding robes tended to be, were undeniably elegant in their simplicity. They hugged her curvaceous figure in all the right places, accentuating the slenderness of her body. The extra few inches provided by the boots as well as the light make-up appeared to give her a poise and confidence she was far from feeling. Not normally one to bother too much with her appearance apart from the basics, Hermione frowned at the stranger looking back at her, hoping she looked the part she intended to play.
She went back over to the wardrobe and took out a stylish black wool cloak, lined with fur. This had been a birthday present from her parents a year ago, and something she treasured. Picking up the handful of chocolates she had prepared the day before, she dropped them into the capacious pockets of the cloak hoping she wouldn't have to resort to using them.
Taking her purse out of the dressing-table drawer, she made sure she had enough money for a new wand. Her parents were always generous in the amount of money they gave her each year, and on her last birthday, most of her family, not knowing what else to buy her, had given her money. She had opened an account with Gringott's Wizarding Bank, into which she had deposited the extra money. Stowing her purse in to her pocket, she made a mental note to visit Gringott's to get some money out for books. She thought that as she was going to Diagon Alley anyway, she may as well buy some more potion ingredients, her stock having been dramatically depleted once she had made the invisibility potion, and pay a visit to Flourish & Blotts, the fascinating book shop. Once she had done her shopping, she would simply shrink the parcels and put them into her pocket.
Picking up her dysfunctional wand, she crossed to the window. Below her, she could just make out the silhouettes of students coming out of the castle in small groups. No doubt, Filch, the grumpy caretaker, was standing in the entrance hall with his usual sour expression, ticking the students off his list as they left. She watched for about five minutes, before she saw what she was looking for. Two figures were just leaving the castle, one was almost six foot tall with bright red hair, while the other figure was not so tall, and sporting an untidy mop of black hair: It was Ron and Harry. Turning away from the window, she pulled on her cloak, left her room, went down the staircase out of Gryffindor tower, and down to the entrance hall, where now only a few people were left. Skulking out of sight behind a pillar, she waited until the last of the students had exited the hall and then approached the entrance herself. She was met by a glare from Filch, who after scowling at her, reluctantly ticked off her name on his list, before shambling away, muttering to himself. Relieved he had not stopped her, Hermione made her way down the castle steps, into the grounds.
Pulling the hood of her cloak, as far as it would go over her face, she made for the huge gates, which were standing open. As an extra precaution, she made sure to keep in the shadow of the trees, just in case any students were looking back towards the castle. Passing through the gates, she began walking quickly down the road. Ahead of her, she could just make out a few students walking along, their laughter echoing on the chilly breeze. Hermione focused her attention on the side of the road, looking for the trees Ginny had mentioned at breakfast. After about five minutes of brisk walking, she caught sight of a clump of oak and birch trees and made straight for them. Pushing her way between the narrow tree trunks, she stood in a small clearing in the centre of the clump, which allowed room for only two people to stand. Glancing around at her surroundings, she closed her eyes, picturing the interior of the ladies' toilets situated on the ground floor of the Leaky Cauldron, and Disapparated with a faint pop.
XoXoXoXo
Bracing herself, Hermione opened her eyes to find her reflection glaring back at her from a mirror, situated above one of the sinks in the bathroom, in which she was now standing. Glancing around, she was relieved to see the room was empty. Putting on a grim smile, she turned and swept out of the ladies' toilets, into the main part of the Leaky Cauldron. The pub was crowded with witches and wizards, all talking in loud voices, while nursing drinks. She could see Tom, the landlord, leaning over the bar, laughing at something an old ginger bearded wizard was telling him. Taking care not to catch anyone's eye, Hermione made her way to the back of the pub, out of a small door and into the dusty yard. Going over to the dustbins piled high with rubbish, Hermione pulled out her wand and tapped the brick third from the left and two up from the bins. For a moment, nothing happened; then the brick wriggled in the middle, making a small hole that grew larger and larger, until it had formed an immense archway.
Stepping through it, Hermione found herself on the long narrow cobbled street that was Diagon Alley. She didn't wait to see the archway close - something she loved to do, but walked swiftly along the street trying hard not to bump into mothers with young children, or older children chasing ever-bashing boomerangs or fanged Frisbees. The street was packed with people doing their Saturday shopping, all jostling each other to try and get to their destinations that bit quicker.
Wending her way carefully down the crowded street, she made her sluggish way to the opposite end, to where she could see a faded sign proclaiming: 'Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC', swinging in the cold breeze above a shop, the paintwork of which was peeling.
Sighing in relief, Hermione, after having been poked, pushed and shoved unceremoniously along, finally reached her destination. Ducking out of the slowly moving stream of people, she pushed open the door of the shop, and went in. At first, she could see nothing, as the interior of the shop was very dim. Gradually however, her eyes became accustomed to the change in light, and she was able to look round the dingy little shop. To her relief, she found she was quite alone. She supposed that as most people rarely needed to buy new wands, this shop was probably empty a lot of the time, apart from the holidays, when new first years about to start at Hogwarts would need wands. A faded cushion sat in the window with a fragile looking wand displayed on it. It looked as though one good tug would snap it in half. The walls of the shop were lined with thousands and thousands of long thin boxes stacked neatly on shelves. Seating herself on the only chair, Hermione wondered what she was going to say to Mr. Ollivander. Hopefully, he would not make too much of a fuss, and she would find the right wand and be off.
She had plans to visit a few other stores in Diagon Alley, and wanted to be back at Hogwarts before anyone put two and two together with regards to her whereabouts. She looked at her wand, thinking that although apart from the problems she had been experiencing recently, which, if she was correct, were not its fault, it had never let her down in the whole of her time at Hogwarts. As a result, she had become rather attached to it and was not a little sorry to have to transfer to another.
She was pulled out of her reverie by a quiet voice saying, "Good Morning. Miss Granger, isn't it?" Glancing round, Hermione saw Mr. Ollivander himself leaning on the counter, running along the back of the shop. A very thin man, Mr. Ollivander gave one the impression he could see into your soul, without even having to try. His huge pale eyes, which never seemed to blink, seemed to look beyond the exterior of you, into places you never even knew you possessed.
Trying not to look into those ghost-like eyes, Hermione got to her feet and was about to open her mouth to explain what she wanted, but Mr. Ollivander beat her to it.
"Yes, yes, I remember as though it were yesterday: nine and a half inches, Vine containing a heartstring from a Swedish Short-snout. Good wand that one, and very good for transfiguration! Yes, I remember it well! No doubt, you have outgrown that particular wand, and are requiring something which is more suited to your talents!"
"Yes, it's not working as it should be, so I thought I'd come and maybe get a new wand. As there seems to be nothing physically wrong with it, I can only assume that something within me has changed." She explained nervously.
At these words, Mr. Ollivander, leaned over, and plucked the wand from Hermione's unresisting fingers, studying it closely.
"You are indeed right, there is nothing wrong with the wand but alas, it will not work for another witch or wizard. Wands, Miss Granger, are highly individual magical objects; each chooses the witch or wizard with whom it wishes to spend its lifetime. This one does not function because it is unable to channel the amount of magic you give off effectively. It's a shame, but alas, it can't be helped. Oh well, hold out your wand hand."
Relieved, Hermione put out a right arm, and a tape measure with strange markings along its length jumped out of Mr. Ollivander's pocket, and began to measure Hermione as though she were a dummy displayed in a dressmakers' window.
It was only as the tape measure attempted to measure the width of the back of her knee that Mr. Ollivander said, "That will do," and immediately, the tape measure crumpled up in to a heap on the dusty floor.
Mr. Ollivander, meanwhile, was pulling boxes off the shelves, apparently at random, and placing them onto the counter. "Here, try this one: ten inches, mahogany and dragon heartstring, rather bendy."
Hermione took the wand, waving it energetically above her head.
Snatching it from her, he handed her another one, "No, this one: sycamore and phoenix feather, nine inches, very supple!"
Taking the wand, Hermione waved it about but nothing happened.
"No, no, this one: Pine and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, whippy." This too was snatched back before she could so much as raise it in to the air.
An hour later, Hermione felt as though she had tried every wand in the shop. Her arm hurt from being waved about so much, and she was beginning to feel desperate. In front of her, tried wands and their boxes lay on the counter as Mr. Ollivander pulled down still more boxes.
Straightening up from a shelf, he turned to look at Hermione before saying, "I wonder… it is possible, but well..." He frowned before shrugging in a resigned way. He bent down and pulled a very dusty-looking box from beneath the shelves. Placing it on the counter, he opened the lid, lifting out a wand. As far as Hermione could make out, it looked like any other wand and yet, there was something different about it. She could almost taste the power surrounding it.
Wordlessly, Mr. Ollivander handed the wand to Hermione, and as soon as he did so, she felt a familiar warm tingling sensation shoot up her arm. Raising the wand in to the air, she pointed it at the stack of discarded wands and boxes lying on the counter. A pale blue light erupted from the wand tip, causing the wands to slide back into their respective boxes, which then flew back to their previous positions on the shelves, lining the walls of the shop.
Grinning, Hermione lowered her wand, turning to Mr. Ollivander. To her surprise, he was not smiling. "How did you do that?" His question was ominously quiet.
"I don't really know, I just thought that you'd probably find it useful, if all those wands were put back into their boxes, so I just pointed the wand at them and well, it just sort of got on with it. I didn't use any charms or anything, at least not that I know of."
"That wand is very old as you can probably tell." He explained soberly, "It is nine and a half inches long, teak, with a combined core of dragon heartstring and unicorn hair. I remember making it over 166 years ago. I was experimenting, to see what would happen, if two powerfully magical substances were combined, as in the core of this wand. I found that apart from me, the wand refused to work, and in some cases, burned the witches and wizards handling it. It is a powerfully magical wand, which has the aptitude to perform complex dark and light magic! I remember vowing never to sell it, as its owner may have a propensity for the dark arts, and in the wrong hands, it could well, not much would be left of this world if…" His voice faded away in to nothing leaving behind it, a stunned silence.
Hermione tried to pull herself together and focus on the wand, still clutched tightly in her hand. "Well, I'm not into the dark arts and may God help me, never will be. You needn't have any fear on that score! As for the wand, if you had no plans to sell it, why let me try it? As you can see, we are obviously compatible." She tried not to sound shocked and defensive as she spoke.
"You have tried all my most powerful wands, so I really didn't have a choice in the matter. For as long as I have been making wands, not one person has gone out of my shop not having found a suitable match, so I resorted to this wand as a last measure. But that is not what is worrying me," Mr. Ollivander said, taking the wand back from Hermione. "There are spells wand makers can use to determine which type of person will suit which wand. Bridicate measurements determine a person's magical ability, and I try to match wand and owner accordingly. Of course, it is the wand that has the final say in the matter, but the measurements give me a good idea of the person's type and amount of magic. I won't go into the details, but when working out the Bridicates for this wand, I wondered if I had made a mistake, in putting two cores together, as there are few people magical enough to attempt operating this wand. From that day onwards, I never combined two magical substances within a wand, as the result was too powerful. It requires a person to be a Lestintia - someone powerful enough to block the Avada Kedavra curse for up to ten seconds. Such people do exist, although the last was Grindelwald himself. The theory is that, in the time it takes for the person's magic to hold off the curse, they can put up a magical shield to protect themselves - hence Albus Dumbledore had so many problems when getting rid of Grindelwald." His voice was very quiet as he spoke although his eyes roamed continuously over Hermione's stunned face.
"What do you mean? I've read about such people, all of who to my knowledge have been dark. There was Catton in 1066, Learthorn in 1257, Iddock in 1598, and a few more who I can't remember off the top of my head. As you say, the last was Grindelwald, but why me? I hate the dark arts and everything to do with them, I always have done!" Hermione gabbled in a trembling voice. She was trying hard not to panic, and could feel hysteria rising in the back of her throat.
"Just because all documented Lestintias have dabbled in the dark arts so far, it does not mean that one can exist who is not dark." Mr Ollivander retorted, "You must learn to use this power effectively and who knows." He shrugged before turning away to write something in a book, lying on the counter. "That will be ten galleons, please." He said not looking up from his writing.
Numbly, Hermione pulled out her purse, counted out the correct amount and exchanged it for her wand, which she pocketed.
Then in a small voice she asked, "Please excuse me, but how does all this work? What I mean is, how am I able to hold off the curse? I mean before the age of eleven, I knew nothing about magic and it was only when I got my Hogwarts letter that I found out I was a witch. How can I be so powerful?"
"Well, I don't know the answer to your last question but will tell you what I know." He turned once more to look at her smiling as though to reassure her. "The Avada Kedavra curse is basically an explosion of undisciplined magical energy, which when it hits its target, destroys the mechanisms of the brain, which are unable to cope with the impact of such an explosion of energy. Your own brand of magic is unique as is everyone's, but in your case, I suspect there is more than one strain of magic at work. Each person normally only has the one strain, or type, of magic in them. There are a wide variety of types of magic, and different wand cores are better adapted to suit certain types of magic. This wand uses two different strains of magic, one from a dragon and one from a unicorn. As you can imagine, each creature is very different in its magical properties, and combined, the two strains produce a magical field so strong, there are very few people who would be compatible with such a wand, hence 99 percent of wands contain only the one magical core. I believe your own brand of magic is so strong, it is almost as concentrated as that of the Avada Kedavra curse, thereby giving you some protection. Of course, no one, apart from Mr. Potter, has actually survived the full effects of the curse directly, but a Lestintias own magic stops the curse long enough for them to get out of the way, or some such thing."
"You mentioned earlier, that this wand would be good at dark magic; does that mean one of the cores is dark?" Hermione asked wanting to get the worst over with.
"No, a wand has no say in whether it practices dark or light magic, that is the decision of the owner. However, certain wand cores, such as dragon heartstrings and some phoenix feathers, are better able to perform dark magic due to the amount of power they are able to channel. As I am sure you are aware, most dark curses use very concentrated magical energy, which is channelled from the wizard and through the wand to its target. These cores simply channel the energy given off by the wizard more efficiently than, say, that of a tail hair from a unicorn, but even that, given the right unicorn hair teamed with a strong wood, can be a powerful wand in its own right. Your wand is simply better able to cope with a lot of magical energy at any one time, and as dark magic uses intense amounts of power, it is simply better equipped to channel the power from you, to the intended target. But saying that, there are certain healing spells, which also require concentrated amounts of power, something which once again your wand would be very good at doing."
"Well, that's a relief to know." She said, "I've read about powerful wands, some of my friends have them, but I hate the dark arts. Is it true that the more powerful a wand is, the less it will want to work for another person?"
"Yes, that is very true. Wands get to know their owners, and the more powerful they are, the more they will refuse to work with anyone else, and if that person is one their owner does not like, the wand may discharge some negative energy resulting in a nasty burn for the person holding it- that is something you must be careful of. If I were you, I would not mention any of what we have discussed to anyone, and that includes your closest friends. If He Who Must Not Be Named finds out anything we have discussed this morning, there is no telling what will happen." A shudder passed over the old man's face as he finished speaking.
Smiling at him, Hermione reassured, "You can be sure this won't go any further. I'll find out as much as possible about Lestintias, and once I have done so, will then decide what to do. The Dark Arts hold no allure for me, and if I have anything to do with it, this wand will never fall in to the hands of any dark witch or wizard." Turning, she pulled her cloak about her, preparing to leave the shop for the bustling street outside.
"I hope you are right, Miss Granger, I really do!" Hermione heard Mr. Ollivander say, as she exited the shop to face the crowds of Saturday shoppers.
Leaning against the window of Ollivander's, Hermione reviewed what she had learned in the last half-hour. She had, of course, read about Lestintias and their powers, but had not thought any more about it. This would explain a lot of things; for instance why her old wand had been unable to work effectively these last few weeks. Maybe, she thought, this was the reason why she found Charms and especially Transfiguration easier to grasp than her peers. True, she worked hard in all her subjects, but if you were not particularly magical, then not everything would be so easy, no matter how much you practiced and studied.
A picture of Neville Longbottom flashed up in Hermione's mind. Neville, although one of the top students in Herbology, had until the start of their sixth year found it hard to cope in subjects such as Charms, due to the fact that the wand he had until then been using had belonged to his father and therefore was not suited to him.
A loud voice now interrupted Hermione's thoughts. Glancing up, she saw a red faced, irritable looking woman, who must have been over six feet tall, glaring down at her, a child on one hip wailing loudly.
"Do you intend standing there gawping at nothing, all day? If so, kindly choose a place out of the way of people who have shopping to do. Oh for heaven's sake, shut up Archie!" this last remark was directed at the howling toddler, who just cried the harder. "I don't know, young people, one day you'll know what it's like."
Smiling politely at the woman, Hermione pushed herself away from the window and ducked beneath the woman's out-stretched arm, into the throng of people to make her slow way towards the white edifice of Gringott's, just ahead. She arrived at the gold doors, panting slightly and vowing never to come to Diagon Alley again on a Saturday.
She was bowed through the door by a rather mean looking goblin. Entering the huge marble hall through silver doors, held open by another obsequious looking goblin, she made her way over to a free goblin perched on a high stool, behind the marble topped counter running along one side of the hall.
"Good morning," Hermione began, "I would like to take some money out of my vault, number 485. Here is my key, I think you will find everything as it should be."
She handed the goblin the tiny golden key to her Gringott's vault, waiting while the goblin inspected it for any signs of corruption or forgery.
"That seems to be fine. I'll get someone to take you down there right away. Longleg," he called, beckoning to another goblin which came over looking irritable, but nevertheless bowing deeply. "Take Miss Granger down to her vault. She wants to draw out some money."
Beckoning Hermione to follow him, Longleg led the way towards one of the small wooden doors on the other side of the hall. Going through it, Hermione clambered into one of the small carts, which would take them down to her vault. She did not much like the hair-raising cart ride, so shut her eyes until it had come to a stop. Climbing out, she watched Longleg fit her key in to the lock of a small door set in the wall of the murky stone passage. The door swung open and Longleg ushered Hermione in to the stone room. Glancing down, she could se a mound of coins, lying on the dusty floor. Kneeling, she surveyed the money laid out before her. Besides the huge mound of gold galleons, there were towers of silver sickles, and heaps of small bronze knuts. As far as she could remember, there had not been this much gold in her vault the last time she had visited, which had been during the summer, when her parents had deposited some money in there. She had put most of her birthday savings in there, but this transaction had been done by owl. She had received a receipt from Gringott's, confirming that sixty galleons, the equivalent of £300, had been put in to her vault. So where had all this money come from? There must be over four hundred galleons lying at her feet!
Turning to Longleg she asked, "How much money is in here?"
"463 galleons, 58 sickles and 49 knuts." Came the succinct reply. "If Miss wouldn't mind hurrying up!" he said eyeing her impatiently.
Hermione scooped up some money in to a leather bag, jamming it in to her pocket, as she scrambled back in to the cart. "If Miss wants, we can send her a record of all transactions to do with her account," Longleg said graciously.
"Yes please, that would be brilliant," Hermione nodded trying to lighten the mood with a smile, which was wasted on the goblin who was scowling in to the distance.
A terrifying cart ride later, Hermione was deposited once again in the marble hall. Wordlessly, Longleg handed back her key and disappeared, no doubt to escort some other poor soul, Hermione thought. Glancing at her watch, she decided to do her shopping as quickly as possible and then head back to Hogwarts. The mystery of the money in her vault could wait a few hours. For now, she had things to do and not much time in which to do them.
Two hours later, Hermione stood outside the entrance to Flourish and Blotts bookshop, smiling to herself. She had stocked up on potion ingredients, parchment, ink, quills, and some interesting looking toiletries and cosmetics, which she wanted to try out. She stood with her nose pressed against the frosted window of the busy shop, which was packed to the rafters with books of all shapes and sizes, gazing avidly at the books in the window display, she wished she had more time to look around. Going into the shop, Hermione began to browse along the aisles, promising herself she would buy no more than six books. Heading to the tiny section on wandless magic, she took down 'A Beginners Guide to Wandless Magic' by Abigail McKain. A large book in a handsome cover, it would teach her the rudiments of wandless magic - something she was determined to learn. She was just reading 'Step 1: Focusing on Your Inner Source of Magic', when a cold drawling voice assailed her ears.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't Miss Granger – Hogwarts' esteemed head girl!"
Hermione felt as though she had been turned to stone. Turning to face the person, she came face to face with none other than Lucius Malfoy. He was leaning insolently against the opposite shelf of books, surveying her as though she were a piece of furniture he was trying to decide whether to purchase or not. She could feel his cold grey eyes boring into her. As his gaze travelled from her hair to her boots, she tried hard not to squirm and fidget under his knife-like scrutiny. Surreptitiously, closing her fingers over her wand, she looked him squarely in the eyes. Admittedly, she was afraid of Lucius Malfoy, but was determined not to let him see it. People like that, she thought grimly, fed upon the weaknesses of others, and she was at enough of a disadvantage as it was.
"So, what brings you here on this fine day?" he asked in his cold voice.
Hermione tried hard not to look as though she recognised him, hoping he could not see her knees shaking. In as casual a voice as she could muster, she answered coolly, "Forgive me, but I do not know who you are."
For a second, she thought her bluff had worked, for Malfoy senior stepped back, looking confused. But then he smiled, that slow cruel smile, which sent a shiver of foreboding up her spine.
"Oh, come now, I think you remember full well who I am, so don't play the innocent with me! I must admit though, I didn't recognise you at first, how grown up you now look, almost pretty, but then physical beauty is not something your kind lack is it now?" Not waiting for an answer, he went on, "So tell me, Hermione is it not? What are you doing here all alone?"
As Hermione knew, the questions seemed innocent enough, but she couldn't help noticing the sneer beneath his words. As long as she stayed in the safety of Diagon Alley, he could not hope to hurt her - there were too many witches and wizards around.
"I don't see what concern it is of yours," she replied levelly, "Now, if you'll be good enough to get out of my way, I'll bid you good day!"
"Tut, tut, tut! I'm sure your parents bought you up to have better manners than that, my dear young lady! As a responsible citizen, I am merely doing my duty in inquiring what you are doing here. Now, if anything were to happen to you, let's say, I would never forgive myself, knowing I had seen you here and not done something to ensure your safety."
"Thank you for your concern," Hermione said trying to keep her composure. She could feel a pang of annoyance taking over the fear she had previously felt. How dare this man look down on her with his insufferable arrogance? Who the hell did he think he was, to ask in that condescendingly sneering way, what she was doing? "However, I am perfectly able to get back to my home without assistance, so if you will kindly step aside..."
"Really?" Now, the mocking tone was more pronounced than ever in his voice, "and how exactly do you intend doing that? If I am right in thinking, there are wards all over Diagon Alley to prevent Apparation. Of course it is possible you flew, but if what my son says about your flying skills is true, I doubt that, so I am left wondering how you got here."
"Well, you can keep wondering, because as far as I'm concerned, it's none of your business!" To illustrate this point, Hermione turned away, moving down the row of books.
He soon caught up with her, and grabbing her cloak, swung her round to face him.
"No one, and I mean no one, walks away from me when I am talking, especially not a dirty little mu-...girl!" He had of course been about to say 'mudblood', but for some reason known only to himself, amended it at the last moment. "I am simply trying to help you and what do I get in return? I'm sure Dumbledore will be very interested to hear where his precious head girl has spent her morning!"
At the expression on Hermione's face at these words, he went on, "Yes, I thought as much. Tell me, Miss 'I never do anything wrong', what was so important to bring you out of school without permission?"
Hermione didn't answer. Over her dead body would she tell him, so thinking fast, she lied, "Well, you see, I am sure your son has mentioned the Graduation Dance, due to be held at the end of this year, and I didn't have anything appropriate to wear, so I had to get something..." She looked down at her feet trying to look mortified, all the time hoping he had believed her.
"The dance is not until June, why could you not have waited until Easter to get your outfit?"
"Well, my family and I are going away and I won't have time." She trailed off, hoping her expression did the rest. He stood there, pondering her words.
"There's something that does not ring quite true, but never mind about that. I will escort you back to school and on the way we can talk! Finish what you have to do here and we can leave."
Panicking now she pulled away. "I wouldn't go anywhere with you, if you were the last person on earth!" she shouted, causing a few curious shoppers to turn and stare at them. "I have no intention of ruining my good name, by being seen in the company of someone who bought his way out of Azkaban! I'll return to Hogwarts, so you needn't bother yourself on my behalf. Anyway, I would have thought that you wouldn't want to be seen with someone of my lowly background. Imagine what you might catch!" She tried to infuse a sneer in the last few words but had to stifle the urge to run, at his black expression.
"I suggest for your own sake that you come with me, girl!" He snarled in a voice barely above a whisper. "I repeat, I shall wait for you while you complete your shopping, or else, there may not be very much left of you to return to Hogwarts."
Hermione could feel the panic rising up inside her. She knew she was out of her depth, and mentally berated herself for losing her temper. She knew full well that he could not care less what she was doing in Diagon Alley. To him she was filth; the lowest of the low and to top it all, she had been deliberately rude to him. He had no intention of taking her back to Hogwarts, a fact that was confirmed by the unpleasant gleam in his eyes. He would probably take her home to torture, she thought wildly.
Taking a few deep breaths, she concentrated on staying calm and rational. Turning to him, she smiled and nodded, before walking off along another row of books. She would play along with his game for the time being, and when the moment was right, get even with him.
Half an hour later, Hermione was ready. She paid for her books, shrunk them and put them in to her pocket, at the same time, drawing out one of the chocolates containing a drop of the invisibility potion that she had made the day before.
Lucius Malfoy followed her out of the shop and lost no time in asking, "So, Miss Granger, what are your plans once you graduate? From what I hear, you are bright enough to go into any field of study." He had apparently regained his good temper. A shame, she thought.
"Oh I don't know," Hermione procrastinated trying to look vague, while her insides writhed with nerves. "You know, I haven't given it much thought, I mean well, I don't know...there are so many options..."
"Surely, you have some idea? Training as an Auror maybe? Or becoming a medi-witch? Also there are the endless possibilities within the actual Ministry itself - the Department of Experimental Charms, or training as an Unspeakable! Come now, I am sure someone such as yourself has given the future some thought?" He gave her a kindly smile that didn't fool her for an instant.
She had indeed given her future a lot of thought, and had based her choice of NEWT subjects on it, but was not about to admit this to him. She wondered why he was so eager to know what she had in mind as a career, but whatever the reason, she would bet her new wand it was not good. Ahead of her, she could see the wall separating Diagon Alley from the pub of the Leaky Cauldron. Reaching it, she preceded him through it and entered the still- crowded pub.
"This way!" he said, indicating the fireplace on which rested a tin of Floo powder. As quick as a flash, Hermione pushed the chocolate into her mouth and sucked. Lucius Malfoy's exclamation of rage told her what she wanted to know.
Ducking out of the way, into the recess which lead to the ladies' toilets, she watched in amusement as he pirouetted on the spot, waving his arms around, like a man gone mad. That would teach him! A 'mudblood', she may be, but this time, she had got the better of him. She tried to smother her laughter as she watched him make a fool of himself.
"Where is she, the little piece of filth, where is she? She was here a moment ago. I saw her. She has left me. I'll kill her for this...the little..." People all around were starting to gape open mouthed at Mr. Malfoy, whose shouts and gesticulations caused them to back away in alarm.
He reminded Hermione of a schizophrenic she had once seen in a film. So much for the calm, collected man, who never showed his emotions to the outside world, she thought disparagingly. But then everyone had to snap at some point, and by the looks of it, Lucius Malfoy was doing just that!
Trusting the fact that everyone would be occupied in watching Mr. Malfoy's antics, she reluctantly entered the ladies' toilets, shut her eyes and Disapparated.
XoXoXoXo
Emerging from the clump of trees on the side of the road, leading to Hogwarts, Hermione began running towards the school. It was vital she get back as soon as possible. Glancing at her watch, she saw she had twenty-five minutes to get back, be changed, and be in the library with a few books in front of her. No doubt Lucius Malfoy would contact Professor Dumbledore as soon as he had regained his senses, to tell him of Hermione's escapade into London. She ran through the gates, across the grounds, and up the steps in to the castle. The entrance hall was deserted, but not stopping to draw breath, she hurried on, up the marble staircase along corridors, up more stairs, and finally to the tapestry leading to the prefect's corridor. Gasping out the password, she stumbled through it, making her way over to the empty portrait guarding the entrances to the common rooms. "Gryffindor!" she shouted and watched impatiently as a second later the stubborn lion guarding the entrance to the Gryffindor common room loped into view. Stuttering out the password, she waited with bated breath, while the lion sniffed loudly in her direction. Then satisfied, he swung forward allowing her to slip in to the room. Not caring who saw the portrait open, she stumbled across the room, and finally up the girls' staircase, into her own room.
Stripping off her cloak, she banished it to the wardrobe. Then saying a swift spell to change her back into the clothes she had worn to breakfast, she scooped up some books, and left the room via the portrait of the lion, at whom she had to shout the password, as he was snoozing in his frame. It was a shame, she thought distractedly, scrambling through the portrait hole, that you could not enter the room this way; it would make life a lot easier. Entering the deserted corridor, she dashed down it, emerging behind a tapestry on the third floor. As she went, she charmed off her make-up, and put her hair back in to its original clip. It was now much easier to run as she was wearing trainers. Within five minutes, she had reached the library. Pushing open the door, she silently made her way to her favourite seat, throwing herself down, to wait for the potion to wear off.
For a while, all thoughts were eclipsed by the need for oxygen, but once her breathing had returned to normal, Hermione glanced at her watch to find, her half-hour was up. Opening her books, she sat back to wait for the inevitable summons from Professor Dumbledore, but it did not come.
An hour later, Hermione was getting seriously worried, and began to wonder if Lucius Malfoy was going to come at all. Strangely enough, this thought gave her no comfort. He was a hard man, and anything he learned to the detriment of others, he would use to his own advantage. He was also the type to bear a grudge until his dying day. No doubt, she thought, he would wait and strike back when she was least expecting it. True, the morning had not ended as she would have hoped, but she had achieved her main objective, and now possessed a wand with which she was compatible. She leaned back in her chair, savouring the peace and tranquillity of the library, allowing it to wash over her. It felt good to sit and think of nothing, floating in the serenity and quiet, which could only be found in this huge room crammed with thousands upon thousands of books.
Hermione's eyes began to close, her breathing deepening. She was on the brink of sleep, in the no man's land which divides sleep from consciousness, when an all too familiar voice drawled right behind her,
" Well I never! If it isn't Granger, our little dare-devil! We are becoming bold, are we not? Imagine, going all the way to Diagon Alley all alone. What will Mummy and Daddy have to say about that?"
It was none other than her archenemy, and judging by the malicious expression contorting his face, she knew that Lucius Malfoy had indeed exacted his revenge! Turning slowly to face him, she once again prepared to do battle with a Malfoy!