Without Question
By Tien Riu
tien_riu@yahoo.com
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters belong to J.K. Rowlings. Plot (what little there is of it ^_^) and depiction of characters are mine. WARNING: The future of this piece of fiction contains slash/yaoi/shonen ai/homosexual relationships.
Reviews greatly appreciated, specifically on characterisation. The more I deal with non-main characters from the books, the more likely it is that I end up verging towards out-of-characterisation problems. So early warnings might be nice. ^_^
Reply to reviews and author's note after chapter.
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Chapter Sixteen: Shading between the Lines / Conversations
Two hours prior to Hermione Granger and Dean Thomas' rumour-creating departure from breakfast - and Harry Potter's recital to one Ron Weasley of said rumour, Sibyll Trelawney met Albus Dumbledore in the Headmaster's Office. The conversation that took place would likely have alarmed Hermione - had she been, at that stage, awake.
"But Albus -" Sibyll Trelawney was saying in her habitual drifting, light voice, "You know very well that my inner eye will be clouded if I involve myself with the world at large." She paused, large watery eyes blinking behind her glasses.
Albus steepled his hands on the table, staring thoughtfully at the Divinations Professor - who, unlike so many others met with just such a gaze, did not squirm or shift. It was a little known fact that Sibyll Trelawney had been sorted into Slytherin House when she had first entered Hogwarts, twenty-five years ago. Had there been any witnesses, they would not have questioned that fact - very few were innocent, hapless or strong enough to meet Albus Dumbledore's 'request' (Severus Snape, who made a habit of being absolutely truthful to himself, correctly re-labelled them as 'orders' in his mental catalogue) with a refusal. Albus Dumbledore was not, after all , the only wizard Lord Voldemort feared because of his decidedly plebeian and eccentric (if not insane) taste in confectionary and attire.
"Sibyll," Albus said finally, voice gentle, "It is time to stop pretending."
Sibyll shifted then, and when she spoke - though it was barely perceivable - her voice was slightly higher, "Whatever do you mean Albus - pretending at what -"
"Sibyll." The Headmaster shook his head, "You have never been a good Seer -"
Sibyll stiffened, "Why I -!" she started and was halted by one raised hand from the older wizard.
"Many can see the future - brief flashes of insight, visions of what to come. There are many Seers - a small talent for Divinations is one of the most common amongst the magically inclined." Albus said, "I believe those words were part of the first lecture old Professor Kinth gave to any student taking their first Divinations class." He looked at Sibyll, waiting patiently, "A good man, Kinth - your mentor. He was very proud of you Sibyll."
The witch's shoulders slumped, "I can't do this again, Albus." She said finally, "My inner eye likes being un-misted by the events of the world."
"Inasmuch as I would hope that Hogwarts remains a sanctuary for all who need it," Albus said, not ungently, "I would hope that it was never used as a place to hide."
Sibyll flinched, "I -"
"To heal - certainly. But not to hide." He paused, "I need you to teach them, Sibyll."
In any other, perhaps there might have been a sign of defeat; the Divinations Professor however merely took the scroll waiting on the table before her. With be-ringed fingers, Sibyll Trelawney unrolled it and took in the contents with a speed that marked her as a teacher well versed in marking homework. She paused, frowning, "Albus - surely you cannot think to have me teach that - that -" she trailed off.
Albus sighed; Hermione Granger's enmity for Sibyll Trelawney and Divinations had been a source for much humour in the Staff Lounge two years ago. It was still brought up occasionally. Occasionally, Albus felt as if he was surrounded by children - children of varying ages of course, but children none the less.
"Hermione Granger is a very talented young witch. She is also one of young Harry's closest friends. In a battle of minds and thoughts, the banner that bears the greatest hope wins the field. Miss Granger shall be the very last possible protection we can give Harry." Albus reminded Sibyll quietly, "If any can teach her the strength hidden in Divinations, it is you, Sibyll."
"I can't teach her! She does not understand Divinations!" Sibyll protested, "In fact, she refuses to understand even the most basic of the skills required!"
"Then you will have to make her learn." Albus said, then added - experienced as he was with Severus' methods, "In such a way that she does not practise the irrationality all youthful witches and wizards are famed for exercising at inopportunate moments."
Sibyll looked vaguely disappointed at the parameters of the task as she left, scroll tucked beneath one of the wispy shawls she bedecked her thin frame with.
Albus was merely glad he had managed to convince the reclusive Sibyll Trelawney to leave her tower and rejoin the world. There are only two remaining alive who remember precisely what you accomplished for our world in the last war, Sibyll. Albus thought as he rang a small silver bell seated on his desk. Unfortunately, I am one and you are the other. Otherwise, you would have been forced to leave your tower - if only to silence the acclaim - much sooner than this. There was a brief implosion of sound as a House Elf appeared.
"You be wanting something, Headmaster?" the House Elf asked.
Used to even this magical (and rare as House Elves rarely allowed themselves to be seen outside of their domains) occurrence, Albus gestured to the pile of letters waiting on a side table, "Please have the school owls send these to the appropriate students, Melly."
The House Elf nodded, "Melly make sure
letters sent, sir."
And then, there was silence once more.
Albus looked up at the portraits of past Headmasters - all bearing
worried expressions.
"'- into the darkness we hide - to conceal the flame that shall chase the night -'." He murmured, "Inspiration born from the lips of a madman to be fostered and carried on the shoulders of children. Tell me that I am not making a mistake."
The past Headmasters however did not answer.
*
Hermione Granger, fifth year student at Hogwarts, School of Wizardry and Witchcraft - not to mention a member of the Order of the Phoenix - was part of two memorable conversations that day. The first was held in a small, unused classroom off the second corridor accessible only by the staircase that normally joined the end and the start of the fourth corridor.
The group of six Order students had just been dismissed to make their way to their first morning class. Hermione, fighting a grimace of disgust, stood up and carefully put away her notes and quills. Dean by her side, patted her arm in what he probably believed was a comforting manner (he wasn't sure he completely understood the 'sensitive new age male' thing his mother talked about - but he was trying).
"Don't worry - it's got to get better than this." Dean whispered.
Hermione rolled her eyes - discretely, "Two hours wasted." She hissed, "I could have finished reading the History of Magic textbook in that time instead of - this!"
The 'this' Hermione referred to was, of course, the early morning session they had just partook in. It had been a detailed strategic planning session regarding the evacuation of students before the predicted winter solstice attack - directed by Sibyll Trelawney, the Divinations Professor. And Hermione's stance on Sibyll Trelawney's talent as a Seer and abilities as a professor was well known - if not renown.
"At least we got some work done." Dean suggested.
Hermione rolled her eyes; as far as she was concerned, it had been a waste of time and mental effort listening to the vague, time-wasting, euphemism-using charlatan.
"You will do well to avoid the third staircase on your way to your Defence Against the Dark Arts class, Miss Chang." Sibyll said from her perch behind the dust-covered teacher's desk, "Should you wish to be on time."
Cho Chang, one of the three Ravenclaws Order members attending that day, glanced up and nodded uncertainly, "Thank you, Professor Trelawney."
"No problem, dear."
Hermione barely bothered not to scoff, "Everybody knows the third staircase is where Peeves normally hovers on Tuesday mornings." She muttered.
Dean frowned, "Really?" he paused, "Now that you mention it - he does, doesn't he?"
Hermione shut her back, spell locking it against breaking and heaved it onto her shoulder, "Come on - double Potions with the Slytherins." She said.
Dean made a face, "Don't remind me." He groaned.
"A moment, Miss Granger." Sibyll called; the two Gryffindors paused.
While they had talked, the three Ravenclaws and two Hufflepuffs that made up the remaining group of six had left.
"Ah -" Dean looked uncertain.
Sibyll waved one hand vaguely at the boy, "I foresee -" Hermione snorted, " - that should you dally here, Mr Thomas, you shall loose house points this morn." She said, voice light, and added in a tone far more steely, "Leave, Mr Thomas."
Dean, glancing uncertainly at Hermione, left. Hermione, despite herself, was vaguely impressed - not that most of the other professors couldn't have achieved the same results with that same tone. But this was Trelawney.
The door clicked shut, leaving the two - student and professor - alone in the dust-laden silence of the deserted room.
"I have Seen that I must correct a misconception you hold, Miss Granger." Sibyll said in her misty, faraway voice, "Your view of Seers is not completely correct."
Hermione stared - even for flaky Trelawney, this was a trifle - abrupt. I'm going to be late for Potions if she doesn't get to a point soon. Hermione thought irritatedly.
"Seers see - everything. Even a Seer with no talent at Divinations is able to foresee every possible future, every possible path to take, every possible reaction to an action." She paused once more, her large eyes blinking owlishly behind thick glasses, "You are very intelligent, Miss Granger - surely you can understand what I have just told you."
Hermione stopped herself from rolling her eyes, "You just told me that Divinations is useless. If you can see everything then you can see nothing. An infinite population of probabilities is no more use than a population of zero."
Sibyll frowned at the muggle terminology, before waving it away with another languid gesture, "A good Seer - one whose talents are trained - is able to sift through all the possible futures and find the ones most likely to occur."
Hermione stopped herself from rudely scoffing, And how many times has Harry been supposed to die so far?
"Hermione -" the professor continued in what might have been a gentle tone for any one else - and was merely the norm for her, "A talented seer has another name - do you know what that name is?"
"No, Professor." Hermione said impatiently.
"Strategist."
*
Madam Pomfrey eventually made Harry when Ron started ranting again. ("First Krum now Dean. . . She has this thing for older men doesn't she?" Harry hadn't been sure if he should tell Ron that Dean was two months younger than Hermione)
Harry, already slightly late for Potions, left, bemused even as Ron bemoaned having to go under the effects of another sleeping potion (Harry wondered if his reaction to the rumour on Hermione and Dean might have been an after effect of one of the potions he was dosed with).
Harry felt - better. Alive - fully aware of the trickle of sunlight streaming through the windows high overhead.
It was easier to pretend when he talked to Ron and Hermione. Easier to guess which things to care about; when he was with them, the little things didn't seem so - little. Things like who was dating whom (which had been the province of Lavender and Parvati in previous years - but now seemed vastly more entertaining). Ron had kept switching between enraged protective friend to would-be suitor. It had been confusing - amusing but also confusing. I hope he doesn't keep this up all through the year - it's only the second day of term. Harry grinned at the thought of watching (or witnessing and later providing circumstantial evidence given that this was Ron and Hermione) the odd courtship of his best friends. Good thing Voldemort always attacks us at the end of the year - they always end up friends after I nearly die - or when one of them nearly dies. . . Harry stopped walking. How could I forget?
Voldemort would attack before the end of the year - he always did. And if Ron and Hermione was close to him - they, like Cedric would die. His memory brought up the vision of Cho Chang, tears trickling down her cheeks. Greed. This is all about greed isn't it?
He wanted them around him - wanted to be reminded what it was like to be normal. Wanted to pretend that things had not changed. Playing with their lives - that's what I'm doing.
*
Hermione burst into the Potions room, robes flaring behind her - and came to an abrupt stop as she realised that not only were the other students already seated but that she had just interrupted Professor Snape in mid-lecture. I really, really, really hate Trelawney. She decided as she went bright red.
"Miss Granger." Severus said after a brief silence, "See me after class to discuss your detention. And twenty points from Gryffindor for disrupting my class." He added.
Hermione was happy to slide into the empty seat next to Harry without questioning the lack of the usual vitriol. A brief scrap of parchment appeared in her lap. She glanced at it, taking in Harry's usual careful scrawl: 'Where were you?'
Looking up, she met concerned green eyes with a brief shake of her head and a mouthed: 'I'll tell you later'. It was only later that she would remember how scuffed and pale he seemed. And only after Lavender and Parvati mentioned it that she realised that Potions class was the first time Draco Malfoy had not taunted the Gryffindors. She never did think to connect the two facts together - even geniuses after all, required some small link to jump to an informed conclusion. The only person who had witnessed the altercation that had Draco Malfoy refusing to speak and Harry Potter decidedly uncomfortable was Severus Snape - who neither cared to speak nor saw a need.
*
The second conversation Hermione was part of that day occurred just before lunch - right at the end of the fifth year Slytherin and Gryffindor double potions class she had been late to because of Trelawney.
"Miss Granger." Professor Snape said as the class began to leave, "Stay behind to discuss your detention."
Several of the Slytherins snickered; Hermione stopped herself from clenching her fist - it would have ruined the quills she was packing away. Stupid git. As if I'd forget that I had a detention. She immediately felt guilty for thinking such thoughts. I miss Ron. He would have been angry at Trelawney and Snape for her. There has to be something wrong with needing somebody else to yell for me. Hermione thought, bemused despite the circumstances. She closed her bag and stood uncertainly, waiting for the class to empty before approaching what she knew would be a humiliating scene.
"Do you want me to wait?" Harry asked quietly - just as Dean popped up behind him to echo the same words.
Parvati and Lavender were giggling again. Hermione's eyes narrowed. Oh no - it can't be over Dean and me talking can it?
"No Harry - no use wasting your lunch hour as well as mine." She said hurriedly, "Say 'hi' to Ron for me would you? And tell him I'll try and visit after classes are over." She added, and lowering her voice, added, "Besides, it'll probably be worse if you stay - you know how Professor Snape gets."
Harry nodded and left, following Seamus, Neville and a worried Dean. Parvati and Lavender's giggles echoed as they followed suit; Hermione groaned mentally. I'm not going to get any sleep tonight am I? She thought; last year's Daily Prophet debacle had proven just how effective her two roommates were at interrogation. No one expects the Spanish Inquisition - especially not when it comes in the form of two English witches!
Professor Snape was sitting at his table, reading the first of the summer homework. Hermione approached with some trepidation and waited. And waited. And waited.
"Sir?" her stomach tightened - she had skipped breakfast, and it looked like she would lunch as well. Come on Professor - even greasy potion masters have to eat. Right?
Severus looked up, eyes hooded as he handed her the scroll he had been reading - it was rolled to reveal only the last few paragraphs, "Tell me what you see here, Miss Granger."
Bewildered, Hermione took the scroll - it was not, as she had expected, an essay on the uses and misuses of catnip in relation to kneazles (the topic for the summer).
"Sir?"
"I had expected a fifth year capable of analysing without outside aide, Miss Granger - but if you must, you may read out loud." He snapped then sighed, "The essay, Miss Granger. Read it. Now. No - you silly chit. Not all of it, just the end."
Hermione automatically started, reading quickly - pride stung, " - the legend states that Godric Gryffindor transformed into a noble dragon briefly during the Battle of the Lion (circa 104 AD). The legend, of course, is the source of the mythology surrounding the Gryffindor House colours of scarlet and gold. It should be noted that the quotation - and its derivation (tendo te draco ignis te scelero te draco) of which has been popularly used throughout several of the main magical arts variously as an ethical guide and ethos (Potions, Divinations and Magical Creatures to name three) - has since been sourced from that time period and occurrence. However, research reveals the quotation itself is a derivation of a larger text found in books written more than one hundred years prior to Godric Gryffindor's birth." Hermione stopped, confused (not to mention a trifle embarrassed).
She recognised the words - had written them herself in first year as part of an attempt to earn extra points for Gryffindor (given their antics that year, it had been sorely needed) after the troll incident. It was not something she was particularly proud of - especially given the rushed approach she had been forced to adopt to finish it on time - what with Harry in the Infirmary and Ron recovering from nearly being skewered by giant chess pieces her ability to research had been a trifle disrupted.
"Continue." Professor Snape said, leaning back.
Confused - and hungry - Hermione read on: "The earliest version of the original text from which the quotation was derived notes that it itself was translated from Oggham - a certain explanation for the vagaries in sentence structure and choice of words found in the Latin phrase used forthwith." Hermione stopped, and after a moment of silence added, "It ends there, sir."
"Indeed." Severus Snape leaned forward, "When did you write that essay, Miss Granger?"
"First year, sir."
Severus Snape arched an eyebrow, "Ever the Gryffindor Swot, Miss Granger? I believe Professor McGonnagal assigns such extra-credit opportunities for house points to the higher levels." He paused, "Given your abysmal memory for time of late -" Hermione flinched and flushed, " - I can only assume you would have forgotten the text you refer."
"Text - sir?"
"The one containing the original text from which the quotation was derived." Severus snapped impatiently, "What was your source material?"
Hermione glanced down - Professor McGonnagal had never spoken to her on it, had merely assigned her the twenty points. Hermione had simply thanked whatever deities the wizarding world believed in that there had been no request for the bibliography. Bad things happen to those who cheat. She cringed inwardly.
"Well?" Severus demanded.
"'The Big Book of Old Fairy Tales'."
There was a pause, "What?"
"It's a book cataloguing the lesser known fairy tales told in the muggle world, sir." Hermione said, not meeting the potions master's gaze, "The original text is one of the older stories - there was this little note at the front of the story saying it dated back as far as 874 BC. It's Celtic." She added uncertainly.
"A muggle fairy tale." Severus repeated.
"Yes sir." Hermione didn't raise her eyes from the stone of the dungeon floors; she couldn't stop herself from adding plaintively, "I know it isn't a proper source - but it was only a tiny note at the end of the essay -" she looked up and realised the potions master was shaking his head in grim humour.
"The oldest of the Du'Lér family legends is a Celtic myth." He murmured quietly, "I am certain this 'Big Book of Old Fairy Tales' is not in any part of the Hogwarts school library. Do you still have access to this - book?" he demanded.
Hermione had a sudden disorientating view of her bedroom bookcase - and the tattered old book her Mother had given her for her fifth birthday, stored on the highest shelf, out of the way with Bumpkin the Bear, "Yes sir."
Severus Snape leaned forward, a positively evil smile crossing his lips, "Excellent. You, Miss Granger, are going to help me solve a mystery." He said.
"Sir?" Hermione stared wide eyed.
"Consider it -" Severus glanced at the scroll, still in her hands, "Extra credit."
Ron's right. Hermione decided. They're mental. All of them. Dumbledore. Trelawney. Snape. Especially Snape.
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Author's Note: For the interested, 'Du'Lér' basically means (at least for the purposes of this story as my ability to speak French is as bad as my ability to speak Latin - in other words, non-existent) 'of Lér'. The legend Severus speaks of in the Du'Lér family past is the (very) famous fairy tale of the seven swans - except the original had a little bit more regarding deity-hood, elves and royalty. If you want more information, drop a note in a review and I'll provide it in the next author's note. ^_^
Now, on to answers to the reviews. ^_^
RoseFairy - Firstly - yum! And secondly - [grins] being put into the Best Fics archive? [ego inflates] Thanks! ^_^
MistyKasumi - Is this soon enough? ~grins~
Oando - Thanks for the compliment, and once more, thank you for pointing out the problem in the first place. I would never have caught it (never have thought to look for that problem actually!) without your review. Hope you enjoyed the latest chapter. And I guess I'll post eventually to fictionalley.org - though I'm a little nervous. Fictionalley.org seems so much more - large. ^_^;
Bluevanilla - Didn't I promise all of you H/D? ~grins~ Well, eventually the two will have a proper, indepth relationship. Till then, we can watch the 'foreplay' (so to speak ^_^).
AshFarley - carpet! Wonderful fluffy, thick carpet. Now tell me, what did you think of Chapter Sixteen's plot-related plot? Are things making more sense now? (And come to think of it, are people disappointed at how UN-complicated it has turned out to be?).
A/N: Review? Please? If only to point out plot holes? Or out-of-characterisation? Or if not tell me how much you loved it (this last because Sildtsr told me to stop asking for 'it sucks' messages ^_^)
- edited 28th September for various formating, story and plot-related errors