Hermione was incredibly excited about the Hogwarts Dueling Club. She didn't even know dueling was a sport in the magical world.
She entered the hall with Harry and Ron, staring at the massive stage at the front of the hall. That must've been the platform that was mentioned in the book on dueling she had read.
"Whoa," Harry said, looking around.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," Professor Lockhart said, gracing them all with his magnificent smile. Hermione couldn't help but smile back. "Due to the increasing danger in the castle, the Headmaster has approved my request to start up a dueling club!"
Cheers flooded the room, and Hermione felt herself getting caught in the energy—the giddiness of the event was filling her up.
Looking around discreetly, she spotted Perseus amongst his typical group, that consisted of Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, and Blaise Zabini. He claimed they were the only people in his house that he could tolerate on a daily basis. She saw him sometimes talking to Daphne, and it made her happy. Getting Perseus out of his bubble was a slow going process, but perhaps having another friend, one who he could see every day, would help him.
The last thought struck a pang of jealousy deep inside of her, but she pushed it aside. Perseus' happiness was more important.
"Now, we'll begin with a small demonstration between myself and my wonderful assistant, our very own Professor Severus Snape!"
If he was expecting applause, he got none. Not even the slytherins bothered to clap. Professor Snape was on the platform across from Professor Lockhart, looking as dark as ever, though Hermione swore she saw the slightest twist of his lips.
"Professor Snape and I will have a mock duel. Do not be alarmed, I shall give him back to you in one piece."
Hermione's fingers and toes were tingling in anticipation, and Harry and Ron beside her looked just as excited.
"First, you bow to your opponent," Lockhart said, bowing to Snape, who merely watched him with a look of contempt. "And now, Professor Flitwick will count us down."
"Three, two, one, duel!"
" Expelliarmus !" Snape snarled, with a vicious jab of his wand at Lockhart.
The fastest spell Hermione had ever seen leapt from his wand, the red beam crossing the 15 feet that separated the two instantly.
She gasped as Professor Lockhart was flung head over toe across the platform, landing in a heap on the far side. Professor Snape didn't even bother catching his wand, letting it clatter at his feet.
He scrambled to his feet, straightening his robes and smoothing his hair.
"Excellent demonstration of the Disarming Spell by Professor Snape," Lockhart said, shooting the crowd a smile that sent butterflies fluttering around her stomach. "Now, you all partner up," he said. "Don't be scared to choose someone from another house!"
Hermione turned to Harry, but he and Ron were already facing each other, chatting away.
Almost instinctively, she turned to find the only other person she knew well enough to want to partner with, and was shocked at what she saw.
The group that surrounded Perseus had deserted him, and were looking at him as though he had the plague. He stood alone as his housemates paired up around him, shooting him odd glances. Daphne looked apologetic, but she too left him, pairing up with Tracey.
"Er, Hermione," Neville said from behind her. She turned around to face him, though she wanted nothing more than to go to Perseus, to be there for him, and to ask him why the rest of his housemates had abandoned him.
"Well, come on then Neville, wands out," she said, shooting one last glance at Perseus as she pulled out her wand.
Perseus couldn't say he was surprised by his housemates' actions. The prowess of the Black family in the art of dueling was longstanding and well earned, and he'd already proved his competence with a wand.
He looked around, spotting Hermione partnering up with Neville. He was stumped. He didn't know any other students in the school, and he certainly wasn't about to approach anyone.
Just when he thought he was not going to get to duel, someone called out to him.
"Mr. Black," Lockhart called out, his beaming smile in place. "I see you don't have a partner, so why don't you come up here and practice with me."
Perseus nearly smiled. Professor Lockhart was a joke, and finally they'd all see, when he lost to a second year. Though knowing how fickle people could be, they'd believe he was simply going easy on him. Not that it mattered much to Perseus, he'd take extreme satisfaction out of it either way.
He walked up the stairs to the platform, walking past his head of house who muttered to him as he passed, "Don't hold back."
Perseus couldn't keep the grin off his face now. He'd been given approval from his own head of house to embarrass the man. It was as though Yule came early.
Perseus looked out at the crowd, and found that none of them were dueling. Every pair of eyes was locked on the stage, presumably to watch him duel a professor.
Hermione was chewing her lip, something he knew she did most when she was worried or distracted, and he'd bet on the former at the moment. He held back a scoff. That she thought Lockhart posed any real risk to him was insulting.
The Slytherins however, looked on with a mix of interest and smug satisfaction. Many wanted to see how he'd do, and many more wanted to see him bested on a public stage. That couldn't be allowed.
"You remember the rules, my dear Perseus?" Lockhart said, beaming at him.
Perseus glowered at the man, but nodded.
"On Professor Flitwick, then."
Professor Flitwick looked between them with amusement, before bringing his wand up between them.
"Three, two, one, duel!"
Perseus sidestepped a disarming charm, somewhat surprised the man was even capable of casting it.
He sidestepped next a tickling hex, leg locker, and a dancing spell, a feat that would've been impossible on the narrow stage if his opponent were anyone with a brain in their skull.
After several more elementary level spells, Lockhart stopped casting, and Perseus struck. The spell chain he was about to use was among the most basic amongst the Black Family, and one of the few that didn't use Dark Magic, but it would be more than enough to handle Gilderoy Lockhart.
Flowing from one wand movement to the next, Perseus cast a toe curler—a spell that painfully pulled the toes in the wrong direction, a blinding spell—which glued the eyelids shut, and finally a weak banishing charm that would fling Lockhart across the stage.
Lockhart stood stock still as the spells converged on him, staring at them with wide eyes, before all three found their mark, and he was launched off his feet just as harshly as he had been by Professor Snape.
He landed with a nasty crunch, screaming in pain as he grabbed at his feet.
Perseus watched on dispassionately as Professor Flitwick undid his work in a single spell. At 6 Perseus was capable of reversing the very spells he'd used on Lockhart, and at the very least he would've been capable of avoiding them.
He turned to look at the crowd, and what started as a slow clap turned into a round of applause as the students began to cheer. Daphne, Tracey, and Blaise were shooting him grins, and even Draco and his lot couldn't help but clap along.
One person wasn't clapping, however. He met Hermione's gaze as she stared at him with unbridled disappointment in her eyes.
He felt a sharp pain deep in his chest, but he tore his gaze away from hers and headed back down the stairs.
He hadn't meant to disappoint Hermione, but as far he was concerned, Lockhart had it coming for deceiving her, and he would feel no shame for what he had done.
Winter break had come and gone, and the next few months were mostly uneventful, if you ignored the semi frequent petrification of students. The students were still all over Harry Potter being a parselmouth, and Perseus swore if he heard about it one more time he might curse someone.
Perseus was as surprised as everyone else when it turned out Harry Potter was a parselmouth, but he wasn't stupid enough to think the boy was the Heir of Slytherin or any nonsense like that. What was there to gain from outing yourself as the Heir to Slytherin anyway? They were not a noble family, had no great fortune, and the likelihood of finding any heirlooms—if there were any to find—was slim to none. Being a bigot, a parselmouth and a founder, and an admittedly talented wizard, were the man's only claims to fame.
No, the only cause one would have for using the name of the founder is to incite terror and to all but out themselves as a blood purist, much like Voldemort had done during his rise to power. And while Perseus thought Harry Potter was a number of things, he wasn't a terrorist or a blood purist of any sort. That was seen by him saving his housemate from the snake. Personally, Perseus would've let the boy be bitten before he gave up such a secret.
Undoubtedly Professor Snape would've had an antidote at the ready, and the pain he'd have experienced was negligible. Now Potter had painted a target on his back, and earned the title of Heir of Slytherin. For once the majority of the school was in agreement, and looks of distrust followed the boy wherever he went.
He sat silently across from Hermione in one of the secluded, abandoned classrooms they'd discovered the year before. Meeting was becoming harder and harder. Students weren't allowed to roam the halls alone, and while Perseus didn't feel he was at great risk from Slytherin's great muggleborn hunting monster, his best friend distinctly was. He'd tried to tell her meeting was unsafe, but she had insisted. Apparently solving the mystery was more important than her own health.
However, today was a chance to get away, as one of the final quidditch matches of the year were being played.
So here they sat, in a secluded room, with a table full of books in front of them.
"Who and what is capable of petrifying students?" Hermione asked, seemingly as much to herself as to him. "Is it a spell? A potion?"
Perseus frowned, thinking the question over once more. It was one he'd asked himself with increasing frequency over the recent weeks, and he really wasn't any closer to a solution.
"The number of people in the castle capable of petrifying anything, let alone a witch or wizard, is very few," he said. "Professor Dumbledore of course could do it," she shot him a look, "but we'll go ahead and dismiss him as the culprit. So that leaves Professor Snape and Madame Pomphrey."
Hermione looked at him in surprise. "They'd be able to petrify someone? Using what, a potion?"
Perseus shrugged. "I'm positive they can both do it with a potion, and I suspect they could both do it with a spell."
Hermione's stare prompted him to elaborate, as it always did. "Professor Snape knows a lot of magic, chances are he knows something capable of petrifying someone," he paused to clear his throat, swallowing thickly despite the pain and waving away Hermione's look of concern. "As for Madame Pomphrey, I know most healers are capable of petrifying people, at least temporarily, so it's possible she knows it as well since she's a mediwitch."
There was one thing that didn't quite click for Perseus though. "The fact that it hasn't been undone with spell or potion yet would indicate it wasn't done by spell or potion either, which leaves magical creatures as the remaining cause."
Hermione's eyebrows raised into her bushy hair. "A creature? I hadn't even thought of that! What sort of creature could do such a thing?"
Perseus felt his face warm a bit. Magical creatures was something he admittedly did not spend a great deal of time studying.
"I can't think of any animal that attacks by way of petrification," Perseus said, squinting his eyes in thought. The closest creature he could think of would be a basilisk, but there was no record of petrification there, only instantaneous death. "The basilisk is the only thing close, but even that doesn't petrify, only kills."
Hermione got up, quickly collecting her books—a routine that was very familiar to Perseus, and one that never failed to make his stomach clench. It always signaled the end of their time together.
She drew him up in a hug that he tried his best to return, savoring the presence of the one person he enjoyed spending time with.
"Thank you so much Perseus," she said, finally releasing him. "I have to get to the library as quickly as possible."
He watched her rush from the room, an unusual weight settling in his stomach. He was sure it didn't mean anything good.
Perseus stood at the bottom of her bed, staring at her stiff form, feeling as though he'd been petrified himself.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Black," Madame Pomphrey said. "The mandrakes should be ready by the end of the month, and she'll be right as rain."
Perseus nodded in silence, a sense of uselessness settling over him. He knew twenty curses and their counters, and even more charms; not a single one would help him now.
Nothing he knew would help him. Hermione was hurt, and there was not a potion he could brew or a spell he could cast. It was unacceptable.
As he stared at Hermione, he caught a glimpse of her stark white teeth, and it hit him. Her parents were both doctors. There was only way he'd be able to fix this. He'd have to learn how to heal.
He never imagined himself going the route he was about to go, but it became more and more obvious as he thought about it. His wand was capable of dealing death and destruction, surely it could heal and save lives?
Turning to Madame Pomphrey, he said, "Do you take on apprentices?"
Apprenticeship was rarely used anymore, but it was still accepted as a valid form of education.
Madame Pomphrey startled, looking at him with her mouth agape. "Well," she stuttered, adjusting her robe. "I haven't had anyone approach me since," she paused, staring at him intensely. "Since your mother."
His mother? His mother had wanted to be a mediwitch, or even a Healer?
"My mother?"
Madame Pomphrey nodded her head, a sad smile on her face. "Yes, Marlene was convinced she'd be the Chief Healer of Saint Mungos before she was 25."
Why hadn't he known about this? The fondness with which Madame Pomphrey spoke about his mother spoke of a personal relationship between them. Clearly she'd known his mother, and known her very well. This was more than he'd heard about his mother his entire life. His grandfather's journals spoke very little of her, and his aunt hadn't known her at all. Perhaps this explained Madame Pomphrey's somewhat invasive interaction with him the year prior.
"Your mother was the kindest soul, Merlin knows how your father managed to get her to marry him."
So many thoughts were running through Perseus' head, it was all too much to process right now.
"Would you take me as an apprentice?"
Madame Pomphrey thinned her lips, looking back and forth between him and Hermione.
"Nothing I can teach you now will help your friend," she said, staring into his eyes.
Perseus nearly snorted. If she couldn't help Hermione, clearly nothing she could teach him would help either. "I know."
She narrowed her eyes. "So why do you want to learn? Do you plan on becoming a Healer? There's a track for that you can take your seventh year, if that's the case. And I'm quite sure you wouldn't 'settle' for being a mediwizard."
Perseus frowned, considering her words. Did he really want to learn healing? Would he even be good at it?
A single glance at Hermione's frozen figure and glassy eyes was all the reason he needed.
"I know how to hurt people," he said, ignoring the matron's wide eyes. "I want to know how to help people, how to save people, how to not feel," his voice grew very weak and quiet, "useless."
Madame Pomphrey stared at him for a long moment, her hands on her hips.
Perseus struggled not to fidget under her stern countenance, but he wouldn't budge. This was something he wanted to do, something he needed to do. In the history of his family, a Black had never once used their magical prowess to heal. They were warriors, scholars, and politicians. It was time he changed that.
"Alright, I'll do it," she said. "But these are my terms: firstly, you will spend every Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Sunday evening here, do you understand?"
Perseus nodded. It was not a problem for him, it would just take some time away from his independent studies. This was more important.
"Second: you will maintain no less than an EE in all Wanded courses, as well as potions," she said. "If your grades fall in any courses, or a professor expresses their concern with you doing hours in the infirmary, I will suspend your apprenticeship until further notice."
Perseus was the top of his year, with straight Os in every class. He didn't plan on losing that spot anytime soon, and if he did, he'd never fall #2 to anyone other than Hermione. He knew practically everything to be taught in the next 2 years, staying above an EE would be no task.
"And lastly, you will learn at the pace I set." Perseus grimaced. "Don't make that face. Healing is serious business and can turn bad very quickly." She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm sure you remember our esteemed Professor Lockhart vanishing every bone in Mr. Potter's arm?"
After some consideration, Perseus agreed. This would be by far the most difficult rule to follow, but he would manage. Healing was something he'd be unlikely to teach himself, sans injuring and healing himself repeatedly, something he'd be loath to do.
"Do we have a deal, Mr. Black?" she asked, raising a brow.
Perseus' reply was instant. "Yes, Madame Pomphrey."
She gave him a stiff nod. "Good. Now, as my apprentice, you will have certain liberties that others do not," she said, a rare smirk on her typically stern fact. "I have closed the infirmary to visitors. However as my apprentice, I'd like for you to keep an eye on the patients while I handle some paperwork," she waved him towards the beds. "I believe you'll find an open chair next to Miss Granger there. Notify me if there are any changes." She turned and walked into her office without a backwards glance, closing the door silently behind her.
Perseus stared after her, just managing not to gape like an idiot. Shaking his head, he turned and sat in the chair at the head of Hermione's bed.
He took her stiff hand in his gently, afraid she may fall apart if he handled her too roughly. "You'll be okay Hermione," he said, brushing his thumb across the ice cold skin of her hand. "I promise."
