A/N: Back again, with another chapter that really sets the scene for what's to come. No Snape interactions as of yet, but they're coming! I promise!
When Hermione awoke the next morning, refreshed after the best night's sleep she had experienced in quite some time, she was disoriented. She sat up quickly, and reached for her wand before remembering that it was no longer in her possession.
In fact, it was very unlikely that it was even hers. From what she had studied of wandlore, she knew that the suitability of a specific wand to a person could change throughout their lifetime. While the wand chooses the wizard, and is supposed to grow with the user's power, there was a difficulty in maintaining allegiance when the witch herself was no longer quite 'her'. Her wand had been vinewood and dragon heartstring, and she lay back on her pillow as she tried to think through the meanings and changes to her wand suitability.
According to Ollivander, Vinewood had been favoured as a traditional 'tree' of the druids. It was suitable for those who were ambitious, and multi-faceted. It had connected immediately to the determined and curious young girl that had entered Ollivander's wand shop aged eleven. As the druids were high ranking professionals, who held power and literacy in a time when most folk did not, Hermione considered that perhaps the Vinewood was no longer for her… it had been used by the most traditional magic users, going back centuries. And those, she recalled, had been of a religious persuasion. She herself was not, and with the desecration of her whole being, and the shift in her intentions, she could not think herself to be anything akin to those druids of the past. Her magic had changed. She could feel it deep inside her, and there was a sharp twinge of agony at the thought of being rejected by the beautiful vessel that had grown with her into adulthood.
The Dragon Heartstring, however, would likely still suit her. It was a core highly capable of producing even the most complex magic, regardless of the original intent of the spell, or where the knowledge was sourced. Dragon heartstring chose witches and wizards who would require a wand that could handle their innate power, and she could still feel that power inside her, wounded though it was…
As she pulled herself out of bed, and threw on the pile of ill-fitting clothing that she found on her chair, she made her decision to search for Professor Dumbledore.
He was already in the great hall when she entered for breakfast, and she smiled softly at the familiar sight of his long beard being held back from his morning bowl of porridge. The hall was empty, but the smell was the same, as was the enchanted ceiling showing the crisp winter's day above. She walked over to the Gryffindor table, feeling a settled calm in the pit of her stomach as a mug of steaming coffee appeared in her usual seat. She picked it up, and before thinking twice, made her way up to the head table, when only Professors Snape and McGonagall were keeping the headmaster company.
"Good morning, Professors."
"Good morning, miss Granger," Minerva spoke softly. "We are so sorry to hear of recent events. If there is anything I can help you with, do let me know. I am sure my colleagues also extend this sentiment."
Dumbledore beamed, but Severus Snape only stared at her with a deep, probing expression that prompted her to turn away from him as quickly as possible.
"Headmaster, I was wondering if I could have a word with you after breakfast perhaps?"
"Of course, my dear! I am almost finished, if you would like to accompany me to my office?"
"Oh! It's not urgent, professor. I was simply wondering if I could obtain a new wand? Ollivanders is closed, and I don't know of anywhere safe to visit. Please, enjoy your breakfast." She had spoken hurriedly, and before the professors could reply, had spun on her heel to exit the great hall, her steps fast and her shoulders hunched over as she made her escape before she could be spotted by any remaining students sleepily entering for their own breakfasts. She returned to her room, and realised that there was very little to occupy her time, despite the comfort of her private space. She moved over to the ornate desk, and placed her mug onto a dark wood coaster. She reached grimly for a sheet of parchment and a quill.
The incident - Harry or not?
She chewed the end of the quill thoughtfully, as she tried to detach herself from the events long enough to produce a list of pros and cons for Harry truly being the perpetrator of her suffering. Before long, her thoughts strayed from mechanical observation to something far more sinister.
"If you're lucky, you might even enjoy it"...
Had she? Is it possible that she had enjoyed it? She remembered arriving in Grimmauld place, and the throbbing wetness between her legs. Surely that meant she'd enjoyed it? She shuddered, and rose unsteadily from the chair to return to her bedroom.
Revolted and ashamed, she slipped off her shoes and slid back under the covers, willing herself to return to sleep. She turned to her side, and eyed the empty bottle of dreamless sleep on her bedside table. With a small sigh, she reached into the drawer for a second dose. The next thing she knew, it was evening, and the room was lit only by the waning light of the setting sun as it peaked through her open curtains.
She rose again, feeling a metallic taste in her mouth, and entered the bathroom. With a quick rinse and a wash of her face, she felt slightly more awake, but foggy. The second dose in 24 hours had certainly been more than Poppy would have prescribed.
"Spiffy," she called, clicking her fingers softly into the dark room. With a 'pop!' the elf appeared with a cheerful countenance.
"Missy is awake at last! How may Spiffy serve miss?"
Swallowing her pride at asking the assistance of the small servant, Hermione sighed softly. "Would you be able to light the fire and fetch me a cup of tea, please, Spiffy? I find myself quite cold."
"Would you like me to bring a blanket as well, miss?" the elf asked happily. "Spiffy is happy to bring anything the Missy needs!"
"Please, call me Hermione," she murmured. "A blanket would be lovely, thank you."
A moment later and the elf returned, a tray with a mug of tea and a plate of sandwiches in one hand, and a thick red and gold blanket in the other.
"Here you are, Missy Hermione!" He waved his hand at the fireplace, sending it into a roaring flame, and left the room with a smile and a wave.
When Hermione placed the tray down onto the coffee table, she noticed a thick piece of parchment propped up against her mug, and reached for it. Pulling the thick blanket around her shoulders, she curled her legs onto the sofa and gave it a read.
Miss Granger,
As I was unable to find you after breakfast, I would like to offer myself should you wish for company and conversation. If you would prefer to remain in your rooms, then that is also your own choice.
Regarding your wand, if you would please sign this parchment and push forth your magical signature, I shall see to procuring you a wand that would best suit your current needs.
Kind regards,
Prof. Albus Dumbledore.
Frowning, Hermione grabbed a quill and focused on pushing her magic into the signature she produced. Immediately, the parchment vanished, and she grabbed her hot drink to warm her cold hands.
She didn't emerge for dinner, finding that the sandwiches took care of her appetite well enough. Likewise, she didn't occupy her time with anything other than drinking tea and dozing under her blanket on the sofa. Her once busy mind was mostly blank, with only the most fleeting of thoughts to wander through, detached of emotion and unable to spark any response from the numb vessel that had created them.
The next couple of days passed in much the same manner, save for the arrival of a Hogwarts issue trunk at the end of her bed, containing items that she would require for the coming year. They remained unpacked, as Hermione stayed in the clothing that she had donned for her foray into the great hall. The collection of dreamless sleep by her bedside continued to grow, until she had difficulty remaining awake for any period of time other than to eat and drink what Spiffy brought her, and use the bathroom. She didn't shower, but instead splashed water on her face and brush her teeth with a diligence that would have made her parents proud. Every time she awoke, the taste in her mouth disgusted her, and she brushed her tongue and gums raw trying to remove it. It became a small obsession, a single piece of control over an activity that she could do just for herself.
She knew that she should dress, but why? Why would she dress simply to resume her schedule of sleeping and drinking tea?
She knew that she should exit her chambers, but she also knew that she did not want to be seen. And so, the pattern continued until Spiffy brought forth another piece of parchment with her requested supper.
Dear miss Granger,
As previously communicated, I have obtained a new wand for you, and would like to deliver it to you in person tomorrow morning. I will be arriving at around 10:30, should you wish to be prepared for visitors.
Hoping you are well,
Prof. Albus Dumbledore.
Dumbledore arrived at 10:30 on the dot, leading Hermione to believe that he had been stood outside her door with his pocket watch, waiting for the exact moment the clock turned. It felt kind of creepy.
"Professor. Would you like to come in?"
"Thank you, miss Granger." He twinkled, his eyes setting upon the tea set already prepared on the table with a selection of pastries and fruit for breakfast. He gestured towards it. "Do you mind?"
"Go ahead."
The headmaster poured a mug of tea for Hermione, adding a slice of lemon and a spoon of honey before pouring his own brew, with honey, lemon, and far too much sugar to ever be considered healthy.
"I imagine you are eager to see your new wand?"
Hermione forced every bone into her body to relax, and put on a face of calm. "If you please, I would very much enjoy that."
Albus Dumbledore's eyes lost some of their twinkle as they looked for hers, and she dropped her gaze to a point close to his right ear. He frowned slightly before pulling a dark mahogany box from his robes. "As you can imagine, I had some difficulty finding a wand maker who was both available, and happy to work in such a fashion. I hope that this will suit you, but if it does not, then we can return to the drawing board."
She nodded, and tried to subdue the overwhelming urge to grab the box and protect it with her life. Her magic was singing out, desperate to have an outlet once more. The contents of said box seemed to call out to her, meeting her seamlessly. She knew, deep down, that she would be fine with this wand.
As she pulled the box from his grasp, he watched her cautiously. "This is a little different from your previous wand, miss Granger. It is 7.5inches, shorter than most wands, and has a core of unicorn hair wrapped around griffin feather. The wood is blackthorn…"
Hermione reached for the wand, shorter than any she'd ever seen. The thick handle and pointed end made it resemble more a dagger than a wand, and the weight well perfect in her grasp. It could easily be hidden up a sleeve or in a small pocket. She tightened her fingers around it in a grim smile.
"I'm fairly certain Ollivander only used dragon heartstring, unicorn hair, or phoenix feather," she observed. "Why would a griffin feather be used for a wand?"
"I was hoping that you might be able to provide some of your own opinion on this," the headmaster mused. "A wand is very specific to its owner. Here we have a very unusual wand, for a very unusual witch. Blackthorn, miss Granger, is a warrior's wood. You are, of course, going to be vital to the cause. But the core…"
"Unicorn hair is in itself not very powerful," Hermione murmured. "And the hair has a tendency to die if used in a manner befitting its source. Griffins, however, are a symbol of power. They were also thought to be protectors of priceless possessions. I imagine that the feather is used to stabilise the unicorn hair, and to provide power that the unicorn core does not."
"Then why do you think the unicorn hair was used?" Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully, the twinkle returned to his blue eyes. "Food for thought… It is also interesting that the Griffin is both a lion and an eagle, don't you think?"
He popped a grape into his mouth and placed his teacup back on the table. "I must be going. Let me know how the wand works for you."
"Thank you, professor Dumbledore."
"You are very welcome, my dear."
Then he was out of her hair, and Hermione thought on what he had told her, and what she could potentially use the wand to do. It was almost midnight by the time she used it, having spent most of the day pondering the unique core, or sleeping with it held tightly to her chest.
"Accio dreamless sleep."
The bottle was in her hand almost immediately, and a true smile lifted her lips as she undid the stopper on the small vial. She was unconscious almost immediately, her mind soothed with thoughts of the magic that this wand may be able to produce.