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Hermione stood in front of the painting that was hidden in a back corner of the classroom. The wizard in front of her sat tall and stiff in a high-backed chair. He was trying to pretend that he was a muggle painting–one that didn't move. She smiled as she watched him try to hold his breath.

"Mr. Guilford, you should really breathe before you pass out," advised Hermione.

The wizard's breath came out in a whoosh. He groaned, and put his head in his hands. "Dumbledore's going to have my head. I tried so hard, and now you know that I'm here."

Hermione's eyebrows raised. "I assume that Dumbledore put you in here because he wanted you to spy on me?"

The wizard shrugged. "He was just a little concerned about how the students would treat you. Since you were supposed to be graduating this year and not teaching."

Hermione clasped her hands behind her back and indulged him with a smile. "And what have you told Dumbledore?"

The wizard sat proudly his seat. "I told him that any Gryffindor, especially one as quick as you are, would have no problems."

"I guess you didn't tell him about my first day with the seventh year Slytherins?" she asked frankly.

"I may have mentioned it," said Sigmund, "but I told him that they turned completely around by the second class. Though for some reason, I feel that the boy Draco Malfoy may have had more to do with that than you did." He stroked his bearded chin with his right hand thoughtfully.

Her classroom door slammed open and Hermione whirled around to see who had barged into her room unannounced. Draco was back, and he was striding towards her.

"Hermione," he greeted her. He glanced at the painting at which she had been looking. The wizard was pretending to snooze now. "Damn Gryffindor headmasters."

Hermione slugged him in the side of his body. "Excuse me, but you're outnumbered right now."

Draco grinned mischievously. "Whatever."

She walked purposefully up to the front of the classroom. He followed her, and set his books on his usual desk. He planted himself in front of her, his feet set apart and his arms crossed at his chest.

"We start today," he announced. "By the end of the period, we will have gotten at least a game plan of recent events of the Dark Lord and the Deatheaters."

Hermione sighed and sat down. "Draco, don't you know all of this? Why can't you just tell me?"

"That's exactly it, Hermione. I don't know anymore. I've been cut off from everything that has been happening recently. Nobody discusses anything in my presence. Though, I haven't really invited them to be around me, "he admitted.

A familiar cackle was heard from the hallway, and Draco slumped into his seat. A moment later, Pansy Parkinson and her friends walked into the classroom together. The group was chattering and making so much raucous noise that Hermione was tempted to put her hands over her ears. The whole group stared at Hermione for a moment before bursting into laughter. Hermione ignored them.

More Slytherins entered the room and the bell rang.

A moment later, all was quiet. The students gave Hermione their reluctant attention. Hermione flicked her wand towards the blackboard and words appeared out of nowhere. "Discussion: You-Know-Who's Influence on Current Wizard Society."

A few surprised murmurs spread through the crowd. Hermione strolled down the row of desks, her wand still in her hand.

"Wands away, please. Today, we're having an open discussion." A flutter of activity pursued. Hermione continued, "Let's start with how You-Know-Who indirectly influenced decisions made in the Magic of Ministry during his former rise."

The students did not make a sound. Hermione decided it was time to make a move. "Pansy. Your input." Hermione turned and stared at her nemesis, a bland expression on her face.

The silence was long and drawn out. After a minute, Pansy began to fidget. All eyes were staring at her expectantly. Nobody was going to save her. Nobody wanted to answer the question. Not even Malfoy took pity on her.

"Through the spies that he placed in the ministry," she finally said in an undertone. Hermione nodded. This was common knowledge. Everyone knew that the Dark Lord had spies in the ministry. Certain ones had been convicted, but several still lingered in the Minister of Magic's closest circle.

"Who was convicted during the first round of investigations?" asked Hermione. Still looking at Pansy, she barked out, "Goyle."

"Uh, uh.." Goyle faltered in his answer. "I guess, uh, Rookwood."

Once again, it was a piece of information that was common enough. "Do you think that he and several others should have been imprisoned? Do you think that if they hadn't been imprisoned that You-Know-Who would have returned sooner?"

"Of course," volunteered Pansy. "The Dark Lord needed them, and they could not reach him. They knew that he couldn't take over without their support."

Her friend Patrice nudged her and glared a warning at Pansy. Pansy looked as if she wanted to hit her friend back, but she restrained herself. She sank into her chair, sulking.

"So, Rookwood was convicted. He passed crucial information to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. A lowly crime, to be sure. His information ended up causing the demise of several wizards and witches who may have been able to slow the You-Know-Who's progress." Hermione continued her stroll down the aisles, keeping her tone light.

A snort came from the back of the room. Hermione turned her head towards the noise. "Karl, would you like to add to this discussion?"

Everybody turned to face the next victim, relief on their own faces that they were not the center of attention. Karl Moorehouse was a slimy teenager who kept mostly to himself. "It was hardly a lowly crime. There's been worse. Much worse, that were never even discovered."

Glares were sent from all directions towards him. He sat up straight in his chair and stared defiantly at his peers. "Like the time your father tortured Potter's parents for fifteen hours straight, Pansy. Remember that?"

A fleeting look of fright crossed Pansy's expression. But, then she narrowed her eyes and screwed up her face. "Or the time that your mother imprisoned the Bones' in her cellar for five days, starving them, torturing them, and then killing them in the end as they pleaded for their lives."

Their eyes flashed at each other before Moorehouse burst into laughter. The rest of the class followed his lead. Hermione glanced at the two students. Was what they were saying true? Or were they trying to provoke her? She wasn't sure.

"So, Rookwood was convicted and then escaped approximately two years ago. Where do you think he is now? Has he returned to You-Know-Who?"

Pansy cried out, "Of course. He has no choice. None of them have a choice."

"Everybody has a choice, Pansy," said Hermione in a steady tone. She stopped next to Draco's desk in the front of the room.

Pansy shook her head. "You would n't know," she said emphatically. "You have no idea, Miss Pris. Once you have committed yourself to the Dark Lord, there's only one way out. And, nobody has ever been able to escape it." Pansy spared a glance for Malfoy before continuing. "If the Dark Lord hears even a whisper of betrayal, his followers will kill you. If he hears of the barest hint that you are trying to overthrow him, he will hunt you down and destroy you. Ask Malfoy. He knows." She nudged her head in Malfoy's direction.

Draco's eyes had turned an ice blue. Rage emanated from him. Hermione took a step away from his desk, slightly unnerved by the strong emotions. Not a word was spoken until Crabbe spoke up.

"Look at Karkaroff. He knew what was coming to him. So he ran, like a pussy. He couldn't even stand up like a man and face the Dark Lord, who he had betrayed." Crabbe's speech was cut off by a swift kick from Goyle.

Now this was interesting, thought Hermione. She had not heard Karkaroff's name mentioned since fourth year, when he had been at Hogwarts for the tournament. Had Karkaroff been caught and killed by Voldemort? She thought that might be an interesting fact for Dumbledore to know.

The bell rang and the students dispersed. Within thirty seconds, the room was empty. Draco avoided Hermione's eyes, and she let him go. When he was ready to confess the whole truth, he would. She knew it. She could feel it in her gut. And her gut was rarely incorrect.

Hermione headed out of the door for her noontime meal. She paused before the painting of Sigmund Guilford. "Is it true, do you think?"

He shrugged. "A bit more investigation is needed, I believe."

She nodded and left for lunch.

Hermione returned to her rooms that evening to find Ron and Harry arguing with the milkmaid.

"Come on," Ron whined. "Let us in. You know us by now."

But the milkmaid staunchly refused. "You don't know the new password. You're not allowed into the room until you know it. I'm sorry."

"Come on, Ron," urged Harry. "Let's go. We'll catch up with Hermione later." They turned around only to find their friend standing in front of them.

"Hermione!" exclaimed Ron. "If you're going to change the password, I really wish that you would tell us."

"Ron, I would like some privacy in my life," she stated. She turned to the milkmaid. "Crookshanks." The portrait swung open.

"Bloody portrait," mumbled Ron, following Hermione into her living room. Harry walked through the doorway a moment before the portrait closed.

Ron threw himself into a chair, pointed his wand at the fire, and cried, "Censum Caminus". A moment later, a cheery fire lighted the room.

Harry followed Hermione into her small kitchenette. He grabbed several butterbeers out of her small refrigerator and handed them around. Hermione pulled a bag of snacks from a cabinet and set them out for the three of them to munch on.

She settled herself on the couch before asking, "So what brings you two around here?"

Harry shrugged. "We haven't seen you in while. We figured that we ought to stop by and make sure Malfoy wasn't harassing you anymore."

Hermione smirked. "I can take care of myself, you know. I don't always need you two hovering around." She reached out to grab a chip from the basket that she had put out.

"How have classes with Pansy and company been going?" asked Harry.

Hermione shrugged. "Okay, I guess. It's actually not too bad. Once Malfoy talked to them, they all have been ... well, not pleasant, but cooperative."

Ron's eyebrows narrowed. "Malfoy talked to them? On your behalf?"

Hermione nodded and stuffed another chip into her mouth. Both of her friends were staring at her quizzically.

Harry finally broke the silence. "Okay, Hermione, what's going on? Has Malfoy somehow cast a spell over you? There's no reason at all for him to defend you."

Hermione squirmed under their intense gazes. "Oh, fine. I was going to have to tell you eventually, anyway."

"What?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"Malfoy has come to ask me for help. As well as both of you." They waited for her to expand her explanation.

"He lost his parents over the summer," continued Hermione. "And, he's been questioning his loyalty to You-Know-Who. He asked me to encourage open discussion in their DADA class. It wasn't a big deal, so I agreed."

"You agreed?!" exclaimed Ron.

Hermione quieted him with a look. "Yes, and we found out some interesting information."

Harry asked, "What do you mean?"

"Apparently, Karkaroff has been caught. And, according to Crabbe, has been killed. Who knows what information he gave Vold.. ....You-Know-Who before he died."

"You ought to tell Dumbledore," instructed Ron.

Hermione shook her head. "It's been taken care of. That's the beauty of the plan. Seventh year Slytherins telling all their secrets to me without realizing that they are doing it. They aren't a very bright bunch, and they don't think that what I know could influence the world outside these four walls."

"But you couldn't," pointed out Ron.

Hermione smiled secretively. "No, not directly. But, word travels quickly around Hogwarts, and Dumbledore will definitely find out what they say."

"It's almost too foolproof," said Harry thoughtfully.

"Has Malfoy tried to take advantage of you recently?" growled Ron, returning to the original reason that they had come to visit.

"Ron!" exclaimed Hermione.

"Well?" he asked.

"No," said Hermione shortly. "Really, you have a one-track mind when it comes to females, don't you?"

Ron didn't answer. He just grinned. Harry rolled his eyes at his friend.

"Ron, I can take care of myself around Malfoy," Hermione assured him.

Ron just shook his head doubtfully and stuffed another chip in his mouth.