Revision required most of her attention during the remaining week, but every then and now, her thoughts kept wandering into the dungeons. She dared not to sneak down into his office and challenge him to tell her what he needed her for, since not even a member of the Squad would be that stupid to believe she had been asked to come on short notice.
The weekend came, and with it, they all experienced the long-term effects of the Squads rumors about Dumbledore. Had the Gryffindors been eagerly speculating about a secret weapon in the grounds, the faint chatter had changed by Saturday evening: Despite hardly anyone seriously believed that their former headmaster had actually visited the school, a distinct irritation about his silence arose among his supporters. Harry, all too familiar with this feeling, spend an unusual amount of time in the library, far away from the unsettling gab. Hermione took notice of the first worrysome features in the Gryffindor's mood on Sunday, after lunch. Even if Dumbledore could not be present in the school, he could as least have relied a message to those he was reputed to fight for. She did not allow herself to dwell on such insubstantial guesses, either one trusted Dumbledore or not. As far as she was concerned, the former applied to her. Have everyone make up their mind on their own.
Monday rushed upon her like a galloping, angry centaur.
"Just don't get bitten by that giant bat", Harry muttered when she headed to the dungeons right after Professor Binns had vanished through the chalk board with drawing on it probably older than the three of them combined.
She knew the way, and involved or not, Snape hardly took kind on students showing up late.
The door to their classroom stood slightly ajar, and the sweet, puffy voice Hermione had least expected reached her ears.
"... strongly suggest that you obtain any support you might require from members of the Inquisitorial Squad", Umbridge rushed over her teacher, "We're dealing with most delicate Ministry matters -"
"Delicate and, I am afraid to say, far outreaching the intellectual capabilities of even the most skilled among them", Snape politely declined, "Crabbe and Goyle would spoil any potion you leave them unsupervised with and I won't stand getting called to the hospital wing again, because you deemed it fit to spoil a complicated magical instrument by a Fortification charm", he hissed, loud enough that Hermione heard him. "So if you insist on an", heavy pause, "amplified version of the brew, I will have to rely on Miss Grangers assistance. She should be here any minute now."
"Professor Snape, Miss Granger might have been considered a trustworthy student by the former headmaster, but since it is now my prerogative to decide on Prefect 's nomination, I suggest Mr Malfoy -"
"Who has been appointed by Professor Dumbledore as well", he reminded her, voice calm and steady, "Yet would be more than happy to oblige, I'm sure. But since he's decided to re-arrange his priorities on short notice in the past, Ministry business will be better served by someone whose obligations don't interfere with-"
"Mr Malfoy's duties in my Inquisitorial Squad would not interfere with his appointments with you", Umbridge promised, sweet as ever, "I'd ensure he'd assign the highest priority to them."
"Except for any unforeseen circumstances", Snape replied, "Which seem to appear, if you allow me, in rather narrow intervals. Students of House Slytherin consider me trustworthy, and I've been informed that Mr Malfoy spends less time in class than with members of the Squad. On urgent ministry matters, I presume."
"As High Inquisitor and Headmistress, I order you to-"
Hermione deemed it a good time to interrupt their conversation. The knocking sound triggered Umbridge to blast the thick door open, which slammed against the muddy wall.
"Professor", Hermione gulped, pulling a small crumb from her hair and entering, "You asked to see me."
"Yes, Miss Granger." He drew his wand, and the wooden door gently sealed the room from uninvited listeners. "First of all, you will not talk to anyone about what you're about to witness, or your participation in it. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Professor."
"I shall know if you defy my instructions."
"Yes, Sir." She noticed how unaccustomed she had become in addressing him formally.
"Now will you step over here, please."
Hermione crossed the dungeon, which apparently let the warmth of the castle stretch only to the posterior seats. The dark marble of the kettle provided a hint to its contents.
"Do you recognize this potion, Miss Granger?"
She dared to sniff some of the clear steam above it, rising in two fine spirals, intertwined, dancing around each other like snakes to a mute flute. "Veritaserum?", she answered uncertainly, unlike her usual manner. "In an early stage?"
"Yes", he confirmed her guess. "A very old-fashioned, yet proven substance to anyone spill their darkest secrets over dinner."
"Ehem."
"Our new headmistress, however", the potion master went on, "Has decided that special purposes of the Ministry pose sufficient reason to amend its recipe."
"One might be tempted", Hermione chose her words carefully, "That the wizarding world yielded to justified inquiries."
Snape dared not to comment on her remark.
"Miss Granger, since Veritaserum in its original version requires a full moon circle to mature, you'll spend Thursday evening of the next four weeks in assisting me with this very recipe."
"Sir, it's my O.W.L.s coming up, and I'll need the remaining time -"
"Traditional brewing requires a certain amount of flowers from Garmenthian vine in it", he interrupted her displayed protest, "Now the updated version needs such a large amount that I'll acidify the harvested vine for storage in advance."
"What's that got to do with me?"
"Garmenthian vine usually fights back when harvested", Snape laid out. "And since you dealt with the Devil's Snare already, the vine should pose no challenge to you."
"Anything else?" You could've asked Madam Sprout to do that, or any Slytherin.
"Acidifying is a sensitive procedure in potions", he added. "I usually don't teach it beneath N.E.W.T level. Since my current class is stowed with abysmally skilled students...", he let his voice trail off, quite his usual self. "Now cut these Fromulan Filaments and store them in the drawer, while I remove this delicate matter -", he shot a naughty glance to Umbridge, who had taken the seat she already used when inspecting Snape's lesson half a year ago, "To my office."
With the flick of his wand, the kettle hovered through the room, followed by him.
Hermione felt Umbridge's stare at her back. Dean's face, pale and bluish and sweaty from agony, rose in her mind. I'm preventing another student from getting poisoned by her, she instilled on herself, I'm not assisting. I am not allowing myself to be made a pawn in this scheme. I am preventing another student …
The knife lay heavy in her hands.
Snape had come back. Watched by Umbridge, she dared not to speak openly.
"Professor", Hermione said, without taking her eyes off the filaments, "What exactly is the use of Argentinian Sour Grass in potion making?"
"Given the advanced stage of your magical education", Snape snorted, "I'd figured you had learned to acquire sufficient answers to such questions on your own."
"Professor Sprout told me", no need to pull Neville in on this, not if Umbridge abducted any student remotely linked to her, Harry or Ron, "That its core element, Mekaratium, acts as a catalytic agent."
"That is, in essence, correct."
"Most common antidotes rely on its effect, as Blonkettle, Eidwanfer and Furjemy, as used in treatment of burns by magical creatures."
"You won't find any wizard experienced in potion making who'd call Furjemy a common antidote", he corrected, much more the derogatory teacher she had been used to, "But again, not entirely wrong."
She poured another stack of freshly cut filaments into the bowl he had set up for her.
"Watch out your robe, the jelly corrodes cotton."
Hermione, having rolled up her sleeves beyond the elbows, got hung up on an imprudent urge. "So, would Mekaratium cure any intoxication?"
"Mekaratium does not cure", Snape replied, busy with conjuring several simple brass kettles and lighting bluish fire beneath them, "It accelerates the metabolization of any foreign substance in a magical organism, without producing potentially toxic byproducts. One of the finer distinctions necessary for a sophisticated -"
His haughty, arrogant manner pushed her over the edge. "Tell me then, Professor -", she interrupted, "What effect might an extract of, let's say, Argentinian Sour Grass, have on an overdose of -"
"Miss Granger", he cut across her, voice raised, but flat and cold, "You will discipline yourself to listen to me."
His rebuke acted like a bucket of cold water in her face. Reason got hold of her again. "I must apologize."
"As I said, it does not literally cure -"
"Ehem."
" - an intoxication, since it does not remedy toxic effects on an organism -"
"Ehem, ehem."
"Professor, do you wish to add anything to my explanation?"
"No, Professor", the headmistress replied in her soft, sweat tone Hermione had learn to recognize as sign of danger, "I was just wondering whether my recollection of the approved syllabus was incorrect."
"How so, if I may inquire?" If he perceived Umbridge's manner similarly to his student, neither his tone nor his face gave it away. Break between lessons must have been almost over. Hermione noticed the sound of distant steps, hurrying down to the dungeons.
"As far as I am concerned", Umbridge went on, "The Ministry has decided to remove advanced antidotes as a topic for fifth year."
"I haven't had time to check on the updated schedule, headmistress."
"Perhaps you'd better make an appointment and we'll address the matter together", Umbridge offered, her tone light and cheerful. It echoed between the muddy walls of the dimly-lit classroom.
"A simple reminding might suffice", Snape declined. The steps were close now.
"The Ministry considers it unnecessary to overwhelm students with such highly complicated mixtures involving Mekaratium."
"Overwhelm us?", Hermione repeated, "Don't you think protecting us from messed up interrogation methods like Veritaserum would be-"
"Miss Granger, Veritaserum's only effect is making people tell the truth", Umbridge shot back, all sweetness gone. "Why should anyone be afraid of speaking their mind, Miss Granger?"
Someone had forestalled Snape's part of opening the thick door. The room filled itself with students, chattering merrily, completely oblivious to the exchange in the front.
"If you don't mind", Snape barged in between, "I'd like to begin."
Hermione struggled to maintain a straight face, Resuming her familiar seat between Harry and Ron, so that both could copy her notes. Much to her surprise, none of them asked what had happened since she left Binn's classroom.
When Umbridge had forced herself upon them as High Inquisitor, the three had been merrily joking about her presence. Now both her best friends dared not to speak as long as the headmistress was within earshot.
Bitter, deep helplessness melted with her anger and humiliation, when she realized that Umbridge had her own way of getting into people's heads - without even looking them straight in the eye.