Date: February 2005
Disclaimer: Do not own Harry Potter.
Pairing(s): TBA
Chapter Summary: Hermione arrives to
Hogwarts late one night and no one is prepared for the story that
she'll tell.
Sybill clicked her tongue, thinking over the events that had transpired earlier that day. The girl had stomped out of her class, her curtain of frizzy hair blowing after her. The divination professor shook her head, concentrating on her tea leaves. Reading tea leaves was an old and practically forgotten practice. Most wrote it off as parlor magic. She, however, knew that if you really concentrated you could get actual predictions from tea leaf magic - and you didn't need the power of Sight to see it.
Snape had commented later, at dinner, on Miss Granger's unseemly departure from her classroom. He leaned over and remarked that, "See, Sybill? Even the most inept student can see your 'magic' is all fakery and glitter."
Sybill's inane response had been to defend the student who offended her. "I'd hardly call Miss Granger inept. Is it true that she shall break all those records that you strove to make during your sad years here?"
Snape, however, responded badly to the barb. He hated his years at the school, it was common knowledge. Sybill couldn't blame him - she hated his years at school also.
He had been a loathsome student a few years older than her. She wouldn't have had any contact with him at all if it hadn't been for her own ineptitude as a student. He tutored her in potions and he was just as vicious to her as he was to any student he had now.
Dumbledore had approached her later, also, to talk about the event. He'd invited her to tea and to have some of his horrible lemon treats. She never ate them, she knew better.
"Are you angry at Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked, leaning back in his chair.
"Not particularly. I would be, but I have the Sight." She put down her teacup. It wouldn't be prudent to drink from that either. She mentally noted not to trust anything Dumbledore gave her again.
Albus picked up one of his lemon sweets and popped it in his mouth. He sucked on it contemplatively for a few moments before responding. "Ah... yes... the Sight."
"I have to say, Albus. I am more perturbed with you than Miss Granger. She was not there the night that I predicted the fate of Tom Riddle and Harry Potter. She does not have absolute proof of my gift," she spat the word - it shouldn't be termed a gift. "However, you have proof of this and still you manage to doubt me. It is truly amazing. I know why you allow me to teach here - and it isn't for my superior classroom skills. You are hoping that I might make another prediction in your presence. You doubt I have the Sight, but you hope that, on the off chance that I do, you may be around for a prophetic vision concerning you and your band of child warriors."
Adjusting her glasses, she stood up. "You truly disgust me."
"I heard Sybill ranting about Albus again today," Minerva remarked, buttering a scone.
Poppy laughed. "She and Snape should buy a cabin together and stay there to rant about all the things they hate. He came in today with a Slytherin quidditch player and stayed an extra half hour after the boy was healed for the sole purpose of telling me how much the hated the... How did he say it? Ah, yes. The 'vile man who felt that it is his job to stick his large nose and overbearing ways into everything in this wretched hell-hole that can be loosely called a school.'"
Minerva smiled, brushing crumbs off her lap. "He's always had a way with words."
"Indeed. Do you know who also has a way with words?"
Minerva inclined her head forward, eager to hear gossip. She was a sensible woman, but she truly did enjoy the sensationalism of the rumor mill. "Do tell."
Poppy smirked, a glint in her eye. "Your protege, Miss Granger."
Minerva sat up straighter, as if hit with a jolt of electricity. "And what did she do?"
"Nothing that you will consider needing a detention or loss of house points. No need to have an apoplexy. No, Miss Granger, apparently, marched right out of divination today. She called it a load of malarky, as the story goes, and she and Sybill had it out there right in the classroom. Sybill crowed how the girl had no aura and Granger announced that she wasn't in need of one and that the class was poppycock before leaving completely. Or at least that's how Hooch tells the story."
"No really!" Minerva slapped her knee with a laugh. "I always knew the girl had good sense."
"And a pole up her arse, " Poppy said. "She's a sweet girl, but really. Sometimes I just want to wring her bossy, little neck."
"Hm. I suppose that will fade with age."
"No doubt she'll notice that people are annoyed by some aspects of her nature."
Minerva smiled. "That's not what I meant, dear. I was suggesting that your violent nature will, hopefully, abate."
Poppy laughed. "I am highly dubious of that prediction, Minerva-the-Seer."
Hermione Granger never suspected that she would end up an orphan, especially not in her sixth year. Harry had always occupied that realm and had done a mighty good job of it. Some days he'd rail against the injustice of not having parents. Hermione, however, now thought that he had no idea what it was like to be an orphan. Harry had never met his, she mentally figured. He never had time to become attached. He's only interested now that he's adoring of others' memories of his parents. Hermione's mental rambling continued onward as she accounted for all the fallings in Harry's orphan-status.
Those thoughts were the only things that kept her from crying out and breaking apart. It wouldn't be good for her to make a noise - not now, not while Death Eaters still combed her house, looking for her - the uppity mudblood of Gryffindor house.
So rather than concentrate on the fact that she lost her parents, her younger sister, and would very soon lose her home (she heard Lucius Malfoy talking about his plans to burn it down) she mentally picked apart her best friend.
Harry would blame himself for this attack for weeks, if not years. And she would, as one of his best friends, be required to comfort him. She could do that. As long as she didn't have to acknowledge this hole that was tearing itself wider and wider in her heart, threatening to tip over every one of her beautifully emotionally compartmentalized compartments - all those compartments that she had made for herself every year. She ignored every terribly emotional thing that happened in her life, preferring to file it away for a later date. That later date never came, but it was threatening to come now.
Hermione bit down on her hand to curb a sob. She listened to the click-clack of the fancy shoes that the Death Eaters wore leave her room and travel down her stairs. Thinking it safe, she crept over to her window. Drat wanting a room on the second floor. Hermione looked at the garden below, her mother's garden, warily. She had to jump now, she could see the smoke pouring out of the first floor windows. Hermione Granger, part of the Golden Three, shut her eyes and catapulted herself out of her window.
She managed to escape with only a sprained ankle. Hermione had been practicing wandless magic, but she hardly thought what she was going to do would work. Nonetheless, she raised her hand high in the air and clearly said, "The Knight Bus!"
Stan immediately appeared, riding his purple monstrosity. "Galleons please. You know the price and that's what I need to let you on."
"Stan," Hermione said through gritted teeth. "If you do not let me own I will gut you with my mother's garden shears. I'll pay when I get to my destination."
Stan frowned, rolling his eyes. "No need to be so huffy." He reached down a hand to help her up. "I'll let you and believe that you'll pay upon arrival, but no free food for you."
"Fine," Hermione nodded. "I don't want your food anyway. Tastes like shit."
Stan gasped. "Rude one you are. Where are you going to, Miss?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Hogwarts. Yes, Hogwarts." Hermione sighed, collapsing onto one of the many beds. Only once the bus started its rollicking ride did she allow herself to cry.
"Poppy don't be so pigheaded about this," Sybill sighed. "Just promise me that you'll be there if I need you."
Poppy waved a hand, frowning. "Fine, Sybill. Just let it be noted that I think you're insane."
"Noted. Just be ready." Sybill slipped on a pair of pants, ready for the arrival of the first student with the Sight that Hogwarts had seen in nearly twenty years.
Author's Note: Alright, I don't really have any idea of where this is going. So at this point it's all kind of vague. It's been hanging out in my head the past couple of days, however, and I had to do something about that. I make no promises as to whether it'll stick around. I may take it down and play with it and edit it and put it back up or... I don't know. Anyway, I hope it's OK. I didn't look over it really.
Also, I'm sure you can tell, but I just want to clarify:
Everything from the beginning to Poppy and Minerva's conversation
happens around the time that Hermione marches out of Trelawney's
class.Anything from the attack on the Granger house to the end happens
before the start of Hermione's sixth year. The rest of the story
will also take place during this time - unless otherwise noted.
