Title: Artificium Magum
Author: Calliopeia17
Summary: The Slytherins are trying to murder Harry, Hermione has a Magical Theory book that holds all the answers – if she knows where to look, and Snape seems to be putting himself in more and more danger – for what? There's a plot to make Harry immortal, the trials of being Head Girl, and Hermione hates Snape…doesn't she? A novel-length 7th year SS+HG fic.
Rating: Will eventually be R
Pairing: Snape/Hermione
Warnings: Pre-fic character death. Sorry, Draco fans. I don't want to scare anyone away with that, but though this is not yet AU, I'm pretty sure it will be as soon as HBP comes out. There will eventually be teacher/student relationships, obviously non-canon ones, and some violence.
Reviews: Please! Feedback is good!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. That honor belongs to JKR and Warner Bros.
A/N: You all asked for more Snape! Also, many thanks to my lovely beta, beautifulrain.
Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Seamus sat silently in the Common Room. There didn't seem to be anything to say, really. They were interrupted by the portrait hole opening—Professor Dumbledore stepped through, followed closely by Snape.
She saw Harry's mouth tighten at the sight of Snape, but he said nothing. Dumbledore scanned the Common Room quickly, his eyes stopping on the four seventh-years. Snape too was scanning the room, but he seemed more interested in the scarlet and gold trappings, at which he curled his lip, than in the Gryffindor students.
Dumbledore, however, was looking intently at Harry. "Mr. Potter," he asked, "before we go examine the site of the explosion, I wanted to ask you what you think might have caused it."
"It was an Exploding Hex, Sir," Harry replied.
Snape shot Harry an angry look. "And how precisely do you know that, Mr. Potter?"
"Well," Harry replied evenly, "the blast pattern certainly seemed to match one—and I can't really think of another reason why my bed would spontaneously explode."
"Mr. Potter," Snape snapped, "you may not—"
"That will be fine, Severus," Professor Dumbledore interrupted, the twinkle in his eye looking almost—annoyed? "We shall go inspect the site now. Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, if the two of you would be so kind as to inform Mr. Thomas and Mr. Longbottom to stay out of the dormitory when they return?"
"Of course, Professor," Hermione answered quickly, and pretended not to have seen Snape roll his eyes at it. Both he and Professor Dumbledore disappeared up the stairs, and Ron let out an angry sigh.
"That git. What's his bloody problem, anyway?"
"He hated my father," Harry replied absently. "I think he's just sort of decided to transfer the hatred onto me."
"That's awful!" Seamus exclaimed.
"Well I think the fact that he hates Gryffindors rather factors into the problem as well," Hermione pointed out wryly.
Harry laughed—and Hermione felt her heart rise a little bit. He'd had that terrible resignation in his eyes after seeing the explosion, but it was gone now, and there was a smile in his eyes again.
The portrait swung open again and Neville and Dean stepped through, talking animatedly. They were walking towards the staircase when Harry interrupted nervously.
"Er…guys?"
"What?" Dean asked.
"You can't go up there now," Harry said. "There was sort of an accident."
"An accident?" asked Neville, uncomprehending.
"Oh, honestly, Harry," Hermione signed, interrupting him. "You could at least explain. Someone cast an Exploding Hex on Harry's bag, and it blew up his bed in the dormitory, and Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall and Snape are all up there trying to get everything sorted and they told you boys to stay out."
There was a silence.
"Professor Snape is in our room?" Neville finally asked.
"Someone tried to kill Harry?" Dean said, almost on top of him.
Harry nodded. "Yes, and yes. Sorry Neville," he added with a crooked, rather half-hearted grin.
"S'ok," Neville said. "But Harry, that's terrible! Who would do that?" He paused for a minute. "Well, I mean, of course You-Know-Who, but he's not in the school, right? If he was he probably wouldn't have bothered with an Exploding Hex."
"No," Harry agreed, "he wouldn't. And I don't think it's him, or even a Death Eater. I think it's a student. Maybe working for Voldemort—I don't know."
"Why a student, mate?" Ron asked, looking sideways at Harry.
"Because of what happened on the Hogwarts Express," Hermione answered for him, realization flooding into her mind as Harry nodded. "That Rending Hex cast on the train compartment—whoever cast it had to be inside, and only students could have gotten on. They don't let parents on the train itself—they have to wait on the platform."
"The Rending Hex?" asked Neville? "Has this—trying to kill you thing—happened before?"
There was an awkward silence. "But that's terrible, Harry!"
"What is terrible?" Professor Dumbledore's voice was coming from the boys' staircase, and he came quickly into view around the curve of the stair, closely followed by an upset looking Professor McGonagall and Snape.
Neville swallowed at the sight of Snape—now that he no longer had to take Potions, he was considerably more confident, but the Potions Master still seemed to rattle him—but answered shakily. "That someone might have tried to kill Harry, sir."
"Ah, yes. And I'm terribly, terribly sorry to have to say that that does indeed seem to have been the case. There was an Exploding Hex cast on your satchel, Mr. Potter, and it appears to have destroyed your bed. Sadly, the destructive nature of the spell has rendered us unable to determine any trace of who might have cast the spell. Professor McGonagall has a few things to say to you, and Professor Snape and I shall take our leave."
"Yes, Sir," Harry said. "Will we be able to go back into the dormitory tonight?"
"That should be quite probable, Mr. Potter—we have cleaned up most of the mess, and the House Elves are moving in a new bed as we speak."
Hermione pursed her lips at the mention of the House Elves—she still couldn't bear to see their slave mentality and not want them to be free—but said nothing, and Dumbledore and Snape disappeared through the portrait hole.
The five seventh-year boys and Hermione were left before Professor McGonagall, who looked very upset indeed. "I cannot impress on you the seriousness of what might have happened as a result of this hex," she began. "Any one of you might have been killed, and if you have any idea who might have cast the spell—or if you discover anything in the future—I beg you to please tell either Professor Dumbledore or myself. I find it a most disturbing thought that a Hogwarts student might have attempted murder—and I deeply hope that such is not the case. But I must warn you—all of you, but particularly Mr. Potter—that it is of utmost importance that you be careful in everything you do.
"Professor Dumbledore has sworn to do everything within his power to keep every Hogwarts student alive and well. But you must—you must—endeavor to do the same. Do not take foolish risks. Do not keep secrets from Professor Dumbledore. Please."
Harry nodded, then swallowed hard. "Professor, there is something I ought to tell you." Hermione's eyes widened. Did he mean to tell her about the Rending Hex, too?
Indeed he did, and in the briefest of descriptions, Harry explained to Professor McGonagall what had passed on the Hogwarts Express. Hermione could actually see how hard it was for him—he had told her once, in an uncharacteristically revealing discussion, that the first rule of living with the Dursleys had been 'Don't ask questions' for as long as he could remember. Harry had never truly known an adult that he felt he could trust enough to ask for help—except perhaps for Sirius, but Sirius was dead—and to actively trust was a struggle.
McGonagall somehow seemed to realize this, and didn't charge into her protective mothering persona of righteous rage that threats against her students so often invoked. Instead, she just nodded calmly. "Thank you for telling me, Mr. Potter. I shall inform Professor Dumbledore as well." Harry nodded. "Oh, and Miss Granger?"
Hermione looked up sharply.
"Twenty points to Gryffindor for your quick action this afternoon," she said with an uncharacteristically large smile. Hermione couldn't help but grin back as McGonagall retreated from the Common Room.
There was another long silence, which Neville suddenly broke. "Harry, you have to restart the DA. This is terrible—there're people trying to kill you, and even Dumbledore's not sure we're safe any longer. This goes beyond getting good marks on our OWLs or NEWTs. This is about protecting your life—all of our lives."
Harry nodded. "I'll talk with Tonks about it tomorrow."
"You're going to tell a teacher about it?" Dean asked, sounding surprised.
"She knows anyway," Harry explained. "She already asked me if I wanted help restarting it."
"It won't exactly be the same that way, though," replied Dean, slightly disapprovingly.
"Um…to be honest, Tonks knew about the original DA," Ron pointed out. "She's one of the—um—one of Dumbledore's friends."
"Well, let us know how it works, Harry," Dean said decisively, apparently not wanting to continue the conversation. The group dispersed after that, and Hermione dragged Harry and Ron with her to the library, saying that they might as well study. The boys set to work on their Potions homework, which Hermione had already finished. She'd brought along the Artificium Magum, and she opened that instead, flipping to a new page.
Though Human Beings acquire their Magic from Magical Energy fields, many objects, plants, animals, and Creatures considered Magical have no ability to manipulate this Power. The powers that Magical objects have come largely from their symbolic Nature. A Magical object has some Meaning to it which is recognized by Witches and Wizards, and often even Muggles, and their interpretation of this Meaning gives it the Power to invoke this Meaning when used in a spell or potion. For example, a Creature such as a simple Non-Magical butterfly behaves as a symbol of the eternal cyclical nature of life and has been interpreted as such in both Wizarding and Muggle thought and literature. The Energy of the interpretation gives the butterfly Power as a very potent ingredient in potions and acts, depending on the ingredients with which is combined, either as a preservative, or as a catalyst for continuing a cycle of a desired behavior, or in some other manner that also reflects the Meaning of the butterfly. Often Magical Creatures such as Dragons have so many widely varying meanings that they can be used in myriad ways and have greatly differing Powers—however, because a Dragon's Meaning as a symbol is so potent, the Power of Dragon-related ingredients and the Power of Dragons themselves is always great.
It is impossible to determine whether the interpretation of the Meaning is what gives an object or Creature its Power, or whether some already existing Power reveals the Meaning and the interpretation. Regardless, the Meaning and the Power are so closely interrelated as for the root cause to be irrelevant. What is significant is that the belief and the Power are connected—and so it is possible to experiment with previously unfamiliar ingredients by considering the Meaning of an object, plant, or animal.
It was late by the time Hermione returned to her dormitory, and she went straight to bed, mulling over the ideas in the Artificium Magum as she pulled on her pajamas. It was an amazing idea, and Hermione wondered how true it actually was. Medea Libris had been trying to base new spells on what she'd read in the book, and had accomplished at least a passable security system—though obviously the whole endeavor was much more complicated than Medea had realized. As Hermione drifted off to sleep, she wondered if she could manage to find the time to experiment a little bit with smething that was less complicated than spells…maybe Potions. She yawned, and sleep came quickly.
The next day was Potions again, and though Hermione had briefly considered asking Snape if she could use the Potions lab after classes, he was in such a foul mood when the class arrived that she decided against it.
Snape's look was black as he stood in front of the class. "I must say that I have never taught as big a bunch of idiots before. There was only one student out of this entire, NEWT-level class who successfully made an Imperishability Potion. The rest of you brewed passable Healing Potions, but nonetheless failed to accomplish the task I set before you."
There was a gasp from on of the Ravenclaw girls, Mandy Brocklehurst, Hermione thought, but it took the rest of the class a moment longer to realize what Snape had meant.
"He gave us the wrong instructions?" came an angry whisper from the back of the room.
"Indeed, Mr. MacMillan, I did give you instructions to a different potion than that which I asked you to brew. I intended to see if any of you had the intelligence to think about the task you were being assigned rather than simply follow instructions blindly. I was sorely disappointed, but I suppose it was nothing more than I should have expected out of this bunch."
"Well, who did brew the right potion?" Mandy Brocklehurst demanded.
"That is between that student and myself," Snape said, turning on Mandy. "And five points from Ravenclaw for your rudeness, Miss Brocklehurst." Hermione flinched at the look on Mandy's face, but remained silent.
The remainder of the class passed in relative calm, with Snape lecturing on the properties of the Imperishability Potion, but at the end of class he stopped Hermione as she was leaving.
"Miss Granger, a moment after class, if you will?"
Ron shot her a pitying look, but she waved him and Harry along, and they left, though both boys seemed to look rather upset about doing so. Finally the room was empty, save for her and Snape, and it felt oddly quiet.
"What is it, Professor?" she asked evenly.
Snape's jaw was clenched. "Much as it pains me, I need to ask a…favor of you."
"Yes?" Hermione asked, trying to keep calm.
"I do not enjoy conceding the victory of a Gryffindor Mu—Muggleborn, but you are…talented, and I need some research done on a field of Potions."
Hermione said the first thing that came to her mind. "May I have access to the lab then?"
He looked at her as though she were crazy. "That would indeed be a condition of being able to test potions, Miss Granger."
"Sorry," she blushed. "What precisely do you want me to do?" In truth, Hermione was incredibly flustered—Professor Snape, asking her to do research? And she was fairly certain he had only just resisted calling her a Mudblood a moment ago.
"I need to find a Translation Potion that maintains its integrity when exposed to Aether. I have—tried several typical potions, and all have failed. You may," he added dryly, "have noticed the results of this."
Hermione was still slightly suspicious. "But why are you asking me?"
"If you must know," he snapped, "it is because Professor Dumbledore told me that I could not offer extra credit to any student other than the one who actually brewed the correct potion for my little test yesterday."
"Extra credit?" Hermione echoed.
"Of course, Miss Granger. I would not require you to do extra work without receiving credit."
"Is that the real reason? Because Dumbledore told you to?"
"Miss Granger, are you fishing for compliments? I could tell you, for instance," he said, his voice growing louder and angrier by the word, "that there is simply not another student in this school whom I would trust to do research for me—would that SATISFY YOU?"
His voice suddenly grew quiet. "Draco Malfoy might have had the talent—arrogant little brat or not, he did have talent—but he is dead, and if he were not, I would not trust him not to use the work for political advantage. The benefits of asking a Gryffindor, I suppose," he said bitterly.
"I'm sorry, sir," Hermione said softly, not knowing what else to say.
"Don't be. The boy was an idiot," Snape replied.
"Sir, can I ask you something else?" He nodded impatiently. "Would it be acceptable if I used the lab for independent research as well? I was going to ask you in class today—"
"My policy for independent lab use requires that you write me a proposal of what you intend to do. Turn it in to me and we shall see. Oh, and Miss Granger?"
"Yes?" Hermione replied.
"Who stole the boomslang skin from my stores in your second year? And the gillyweed in your fourth?"
Hermione blushed, which she realized was probably as incriminating as answering would have been—so she went ahead and replied.
"You do realize that according to the Hogwarts Record, the statute of limitations on discipline offenses ends after two years? You can't punish anyone—"
"For my peace of mind, Miss Granger," Snape replied, with something that was close enough to a smile to distinctly unnerve Hermione.
"I stole the boomslang skin. Dobby the House-Elf stole the gillyweed."
"You?" Snape asked, sounding faintly impressed. "I would have thought it was Potter. And—Dobby the House-Elf?"
Hermione shrugged. "You asked."
"Very well, then. On your way. I shall expect you tonight, at the same time as your detention. And fifty points from Gryffindor five years ago."
Hermione almost—almost—wanted to laugh as she stepped out of the dungeons, but was suddenly distracted by a sudden warmth in her pocket. Her brow furrowed for a moment before she remembered that she had begun carrying her DA galleon with her, figuring that it was better to be safe than sorry. She looked quickly down the hallway of the dungeon, verifying her solitude, then pulled it from her pocket and scanned the faintly glowing edge.
"DA meeting for the new year—original members only. Friday 6:00 PM, RoR."
She was still scanning the writing on the band when she heard Snape's voice behind her. "Miss Granger why are you—what in Merlin's name is that?" Before Hermione had time to react, he had snatched it from her hand, and she wondered absentmindedly if he'd ever played Quidditch—he certainly had the reflexes for it—before outrage set in.
Snape read the writing along the band. "Miss Granger, what is this?"
"It's a galleon, sir," she replied, heart pounding.
"A Galleon," he repeated. "It appears, Miss Granger, to be a Galleon with writing on it. Writing that references a—DA? Tell me, what exactly do the letters DA stand for?"
Hermione's mind went blank for a moment—should she lie?—just tell the truth? What would be the right course? She tried to stall for a moment. "Do I have to answer the question, sir?"
"You do not—have to—as you so simply put it, answer the question. However, if you do not I shall take 100 points from Gryffindor," Snape responded dryly.
Damn. "It stands for the Defense Association. Or Dumbledore's Army."
"Would this," Snape asked deliberately, "be the same 'Dumbledore's Army' that resulted in the loss of Professor Dumbledore's position in your fifth year?"
"Yes, sir. But study groups are hardly illegal under the current Minister of Magic. Minister Bones is significantly more—rational than Cornelius Fudge was," Hermione pointed out, slightly angry at Snape's implication—as if she, The Head Girl, would be participating in illegal Defense groups. Though, now that she considered it, she had as a Prefect—
Snape interrupted this thought. "And might I also ask how you communicate messages to one another through this Galleon?"
"It's a Protean Charm," she answered, a little bit petulantly.
Snape was silent for a moment, but his eyes flashed angrily. "And I suppose Professor Dumbledore charmed these for his precious Gryffindors?"
"He had nothing to do with it!" Hermione exclaimed indignantly. "I charmed the coins! He didn't even know about it until that day when Umbridge caught us."
"You? You cast a Protean Charm in your fifth year?" He paused for a moment. "That was a rhetorical question, Miss Granger, and I do not want to hear the answer to it. In fact, I think I can see the situation. You thought you'd copy the Dark Lord's extraordinarily creative idea of casting a Protean Charm on all the members of your little—Gryffindor clique. Very—ambitious of you," he spat, dropping the Galleon back into her hand.
Hermione was silent for a moment, rage boiling within her. Had the man just compared her to Voldemort? "First of all," she retorted, "you'll note that I cast the Protean Charm on bits of metal, rather than our member's bodies. And furthermore, we are not a Gryffindor clique. There are members from every House but Slytherin, and there likely would have been Slytherins, too, if we'd thought there was even the slightest chance that they'd take Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons from Harry Potter."
Snape opened his mouth as if to retort, but nothing came out, and Hermione felt a swell of victory. Had she actually managed to silence the man?
Not exactly. "Ten points from Gryffindor for your rudeness, Head Girl. Get to your next class."
Hermione spun on her heel and tried not to storm out as she left the dungeons. His voice from behind halted her. "And I still expect to see you this evening for your project."
"Very well, Professor," she said to the wall. "Good afternoon." And this time she couldn't help storming. The sheer nerve of the man! He'd almost been nice, for a bare moment, and then he'd just—run mad again! Hermione had to admit that she was pleased that she'd finally managed to eke a few words of praise from Snape, but honestly, he was so unpleasant that he almost wasn't worth it. She sighed. She was beginning to dread this evening.
Notes to reviewers:
Magic and sparkle: Thank you! I like Snape romances too, and, well, it's getting there!
Dafina: Glad you like my Ron! It's easy to make him into the bad guy a lot of the time, and I didn't want to do that - I like the trio best when it works together, and I love Ron when he's being his usual brave and loyal self. As for Remus, we shall have to see. I didn't have any particular plans to put him in, as he doesn't exactly relate to the main story, but he might put in an appearance.
AngelApple70x7: Yep! More Snape is on the way! Hope you approved of this chapter, at least, since there's lots of him in it!
I-LUV-ILC: Yeah, more death threats. The identity of "anonymous" will come out soon enough, but there might well be a few more murder attempts before we get there!
Fiona McKinnon: Glad you enjoyed, and thanks for reviewing! Keep reading!
duchessofpower and polyhymnia: Thanks for reading, you guys. Hugs
Heather P.: Glad you like it! I really, really think that fics are more fun when they keep Snape in character, so I hope to be able to keep it up. Thanks for reading!