For all that Hermione had been involved in Britain's magical world for years, she had never before been to the Ministry of Magic until now, when she arrived for her first visit with a jolt and the knowledge that she was about to be absolutely sick.
"Over there, dear." A bored looking witch pointed at a giant, rectangular rubbish bin tucked right by the designated portkey stop that looked to be just for that purpose. Gratefully, Hermione scrambled over before losing all of her breakfast. Harry, she was glad to note, had joined her as well.
"Ministry ordained portkeys are always worse," Krasmira, dressed in traveling robes, commented when they rejoined her. "I'm not sure why, but I figure it has something to do with incompetency and bureaucracy. Now, let's see to getting out of here. The scent of government buildings alway leaves me feeling a bit nauseated myself." Lifting a hand to get the attention of the attendant, who was staring at Harry with a dawning look of realisation, Krasmira asked, "Excuse me, does the lobby have a connection to the public floor network?"
"Yes, to anywhere that's connected up." The witch paused and stared at Harry more intensely. "Say, aren't you—"
"Doesn't matter, does it?" Krasmira's glare melted the curiosity right out of the witch. "Come along, you two."
As she swept out of the room ahead of them, her azure robes billowing behind her, Harry glanced over at Hermione with lifted brows. "Can I take her everywhere with me?"
"No." Hermione narrowed her eyes. "She's mine. Find your own fire-breathing dragon."
Harry sighed. "What about a loan? Maybe we could share?"
"If you're discussing partial custody of myself," Krasmira said without even looking over her shoulder, "I would like to remind you that I am the one who doles out my time. Cease your bartering at once."
Harry flushed but Hermione laughed, used to her Mistress's ways. "Don't worry," she whispered. "She's all bark and no—"
Someone stumbled into her in a blur of olive robes and russet hair. "Sorry, sorry," the man was already apologising, fumbling to regain hold of his briefcase. "I'm late, I've got to go. Sorry!"
And even before Hermione could regain her footing, the man had dashed off again, his robes flapping behind him.
"Alright, 'Mione?" Harry pulled her up with a hand, and she winced as her knee twinged. She was going to have a bruise.
"I'm fine," she replied absently, looking in the direction of the wizard, who had by now disappeared from sight. "Where's he going that's so important? He didn't even stop to help or see if I was injured!"
"It's the Ministry, Hermione." Krasmira's tone was droll. "People that work at them are all the same, no matter the country — everyone's far too self-important to stop and give platitudes."
"Well, it was still rude."
"You can huff about it all you want so long as you do it in the floo." Krasmira gestured at a giant fireplace with a rapidly moving queue in front of it. "We've got quite the day ahead of us and we've yet to even make it to Hogwarts."
Krasmira's words proved true. Though they'd left Lazarov Cottage at half seven, they didn't even make it to Hogwarts until eleven, having had to floo to the Three Broomsticks before taking the thestral-pulled carriage Professor McGonagall had sent for them.
By the time they got to the castle, Harry was as relaxed as she'd ever seen him, the memory of the international portkey pushed to the back as a grin pulled at his mouth.
"Excited to be back?" She asked.
Harry stared at her like she was crazy. "Of course I am. We've got the whole castle to ourselves. I'm going to take the Cl—I'm going to go exploring as soon as I get squared away in the tower."
"Not so fast." Krasmira fixed him with a stern look. "You'll be coming with me to the Infirmary. I want to talk to Madam Pomfrey about your physical, especially given what happened a few days ago."
Harry frowned unhappily at that but nodded nonetheless, and as the carriage drew to a halt he waggled his eyebrows at Hermione and mouthed something along the lines of want to come after?
"I'm not blind, you know." Krasmira, who was in the midst of opening the door, paused long enough to say. "And no, she can't come with you. She's got to take her assessments."
"Ah, Mistress Lazarov, Mr Potter, Miss Granger." Both Hermione and Harry brightened at the sight of their Head of House, clad in burgundy robes and her usual spectacles, as she greeted Krasmira. "Welcome to Hogwarts — or shall I say welcome back?"
"It's good to be back," Harry said fervently, and Hermione nodded.
"Thank you for hosting me, Minerva," Krasmira said, her voice uncharacteristically warm. "I know my owls have likely been a strain on your already overburdened time, but I do appreciate you being willing to entertain my demands."
"Nonsense." Professor McGonagall dismissed her words. "It's a pleasure to deal with logistical problems such as yours when it means the return of a traditional Apprentice to our Halls. Why, the last time we had one must have been in the early 1900s! Perhaps even the late 1800s."
"So long ago?" Krasmira asked, interested. "I wouldn't have thought it so out of fashion."
"Not out of fashion, per se, but—ah, Mr Potter, Miss Granger." The Transfiguration teacher stopped mid-sentence as they approached the floating staircases and turned to face them. "Please go put your belongings away in your usual bedrooms and head to the Infirmary afterward. The password for the term is endurance. I will not be joining you, but Madam Pomfrey and Mistress Lazarov shall see you there in..." She checked her pocket watch. "No more than a half hour. Does that work for you, Krasmira?"
"Perfectly well."
"Excellent. Oh, and Miss Granger?"
"Yes, Professor McGonagall?"
"The Headmaster asked to see you. When you've finished at the Infirmary, head there afterward."
"Yes, Professor."
"Thank you. You may go."
Thus dismissed, Hermione and Harry headed up to the dormitories, clambering up the stairs as they had done countless times before.
"A meeting with Dumbledore?" Harry asked. "What for?"
"I don't know." Furtively, she said, "Perhaps something to do with, er, Padfoot?"
He frowned. "D'ya think? What for? Have you heard from him?"
"Not since I saw him with you," she said honestly, "but I don't know what else it could be for."
"Perhaps the rest of your summer? Didn't you say he was the one who arranged the entire thing?"
"Well, yes." She shrugged. "I suppose we'll see."
"Tell me if it's anything about Si—Padfoot?"
Impulsively, she hugged his side. "Of course," she reassured him earnestly. "I will. But right now, I wanted to ask if you're certain you're feeling alright? You're looking a trifle pale."
"I'm fine," he insisted, though he really was a bit peaked. "Honestly, you're worse than Madam Lazarov with all your hovering."
"It's not like I don't have reason to be!" She exclaimed, her hands resting on her hips. "You collapsed in her living room for absolutely no good reason while I was in the meadow with Viktor! How could we not be concerned?"
Honestly, it had been an awful tableau to come back to, especially when she had never felt happier in her life than she had at that moment. That joy had quickly fled at the sight of Krasmira scowling as she had examined an unconscious Harry with a quick, efficient set of spells.
"I'm just a bit tired," he replied exasperatedly as they entered the Gryffindor common room with their trunks floating behind them. "You know that Madam Lazarov would never let me go if I wasn't okay."
"Well," she said a bit doubtfully, unable to corral the worry within her, "we still have an entire day to rest before everyone gets here tomorrow. Why don't you take your trunk up and have a quick lie down before we go to the Infirmary? I'll wake you up if you sleep too long."
Instead of giving her a hard time about her tendencies towards worrying again, Harry merely nodded and headed up the stairs. That told Hermione more than his words did: he must still be exhausted.
But what could have caused him to collapse? Krasmira hadn't been able to find much other than a strange trace of something in his core, or so the healer had told them. It appeared as though something had been ripped out of him, but neither she nor Krasmira had ever heard of something being taken out of a person's core before. A core was sacrosanct, the place where magic and soul entwined and powered the body. To disrupt it was terrible; to damage it was grave.
And yet something had happened to Harry, one of her dearest friends in the world. Something inexplicable and all the more awful for it. The injury could have been much worse, Krasmira had told them both, with the metaphysical wound remaining open and unhealed, like a stab wound that was still bleeding. If that had occurred, his core could have become unstabilised or even broken, which could have caused Harry to…
Such an outcome didn't bear thinking upon, especially since it had all worked out. Whatever had happened had caused clean injuries in Harry's magical core, and the wounds that had been inflicted were healing up nicely instead of continuously bleeding magic.
Still, she couldn't help but worry about him even as she began putting her things away in her dormitory. Things like this always seemed to happen to him, and it was for precisely this reason that she had even thought of becoming a healer in the first place. She had to be prepared to heal him when he inevitably got injured — the alternative was much too painful to think about.
As she took out the last of her books and arranged them on a shelf of the small bookcase next to her bed, she came to a stop as the mechanism that would open the Time-Turner's hidden compartment came into sight. Fear and longing and a host of other feelings froze her in place as she stared, transfixed.
She should she take it with her to give it back when she went to see the Headmaster. She'd decided against using it, but if something dire happened, it would always been good to have it…
No. No, she wasn't going to use it. It would place her apprenticeship with Krasmira in danger if she did. Her Mistress had told Hermione once, in no uncertain terms, that she would face 'dire consequences' if she used it again.
But still. It could be useful in a crisis. It would be an advantage that was hard to beat, this opportunity to unwind time. If something truly terrible happened, if worst came to worst… Her hand fell away from where it hovered over the compartment.
It was best to keep it just in case.
Besides, she rationalized, if Dumbledore asked for it back, that would be the end of it. She'd come get it and return it. Until then, though, she'd leave it where it was, tucked safely away in her trunk.
Mind firmly made up, she went to the boys' dormitory, roused a sleepy Harry, and made her way to the Infirmary. True to McGonagall's word, both Krasmira and Madam Pomfrey awaited them.
"Miss Granger. Mister Potter. What a nice surprise to see you both in good health for once." Madam Pomfrey's appeared just the same as she always had, her grey hair tucked neatly beneath a cap and her brisk tone warm but no nonsense. "Especially you, Mister Potter, who I seem to see with rather alarming regularity."
"Speaking of health," Krasmira said to Madam Pomfrey as Harry fidgeted under both the Mediwitch's and Healer's collective gazes, "I wanted to talk to you about Mister Potter."
"I know." Madam Pomfrey sighed, mouth pursed.
"And why haven't you done anything about it?" Krasmira arched a brow.
"While I am responsible for all the students in my care," Madam Pomfrey said carefully, "I am constrained by the law of the land like all other Mediwitches are. Even though I've requested multiple times that his magical guardian approve a round of supplements, he refused."
"Who is he?" Krasmira demanded. "And on what grounds did he refuse?"
"Professor Dumbledore. He takes over guardianship for most of our students that need it. As for grounds, he refused to explain but merely declined several times over, which I found rather irregular."
Krasmira tapped her foot against the stone floor. "Irregular indeed. Hmph. Well, there's always a time for ingenuity. Harry, come here." Krasmira motioned for him to stand in front of her. When he complied, she went on, "Madam Pomfrey and I both agree you are in dire need of nutritional supplements, and I would like to give you the opportunity to take them if you'd like. They would strengthen your bones and give your body a lot of the fuel necessary to do the magical and physical growing that your body is so desperately trying and failing to do. Of course, such a decision should ultimately be yours."
Immediately, Harry nodded fervently. "I would very much like that, please."
"Very good." She sniffed as she withdrew her wand from her sleeve and enlarged the small bag attached to her belt. As it rapidly grew, Hermione heard the gentle clinking of glassware inside and realised the bag must be Krasmira's carrying case for her travelling potions inventory.
"Now," the Healer continued as she withdrew several bottles and phials and left them in the air as she began measuring them out, "while we can't get the approval of your magical guardian, if you were to, hm, suddenly discover a set of potions on the counter over there, that would be coincidence. And if you were to decide to drink them according to a set of instructions you overheard two medical professionals teaching to an apprentice, that is up to your discretion." She arched a brow. "Is it not?"
Harry's eyes were wide but admiring. "You're brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. And frightening," he added a moment later, before hastily tacking on, "No offense. Of course."
"Of course," Krasmira repeated drily. Next to Harry, Hermione smothered a laugh. "Ah, and to continue speaking of hypotheticals — if you had a very good friend," here she nodded her head at Hermione, "who was, hm, concerned about you, and who decided to continue to give you a large set of nutrient replenishing potions that you could drink in the morning first thing, well. That's also your decision as well, isn't it?"
Harry nodded once more, pushing his specs back up with a forefinger. "Yes. I wouldn't have put it past her anyways, once she knew about them."
"Harry, I would never presume to dictate anything about your health!" Hermione said hotly. "I might ask you if you'd considered them, maybe. Your health is private, and so are your decisions around them!"
"As nice as that all is," Krasmira replied, "I am not bound by contract to Hogwarts and I don't feel as though I can't offer my opinion, so here it is. Take the potions that I am about to provide. Follow the instructions. If you are diligent, you will find yourself growing quite nicely in both power, muscle, and stature. Your magical and physical endurance will increase, and you may even find magic becoming more intuitive as time goes on. It could also improve your cognition and clarity of thinking. Your body is starved, Mr Potter, of certain things that it needs to function properly. This will help. Now, do you have any questions?"
"Er," he shuffled around a bit, "if I had questions or problems throughout the year, could I ask Madam Pomfrey about them?"
"Of course," the Matron reassured him. "At that point it would be a pre-existing regimen that I would be able to tweak. I simply cannot help you begin them or supply you with them, as Headmaster Dumbledore, your current magical guardian, directly refused my personal request and recommendations."
"I'll help remind you," Hermione put in, trying to be helpful. "Would that be useful?"
"Yeah." He nodded. "Just for the first few days, I think. I should be fine afterward."
"Would a remembrall help?" Krasmira scowled when both Harry and Hermione collapsed into laughter at her suggestion. "I don't quite see the humor in such a suggestion. It's a viable tool used to help forgetful patients remember to take their potions."
"No, thanks." Harry managed a moment later. "I'll be fine."
Hermione just giggled, and Krasmira, still looking a bit too put upon for Hermione's preferences, pinned her in place with a look. "And don't think I've forgotten about you, Mia."
Laughter abruptly vanishing, Hermione stared at her mentor. "What about me?"
"I've told Madam Pomfrey about your recent physicals," she said evenly, without even so much as a look in Harry's direction to indicate that she was cloaking her true meaning. "She's aware you've been a bit ill, so if you're not feeling well you can come to her for assistance. I left her with a few potions I thought might help you if you needed."
Eagerly, Hermione asked, "Can I start using, er, you know what?"
"No."
"Really?" She burst out. "I need to be able to so I can take the—" she halted mid-sentence, not wanting to say anything in front of Harry that could give anything away.
Harry, who had been watching the exchange with an increasingly mystified expression, grabbed his potions and said, "I can just leave if you'd like."
Krasmira arched a brow at Hermione, as if to say, doesn't he know? When Hermione shook her head minutely, she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Yes, Harry, that's fine."
Harry fairly scampered out of the room, the relief on his face evident, though the look he shot her over his shoulder promised he would be asking her some very pointed questions sooner rather than later.
"I just didn't want to worry him," she rushed into an explanation. "But really, can't I use my magic again? It's been days!"
"Usually the waiting period is up to two weeks afterward to ensure that your magical core has had the time to regain its strength, but that's obviously impossible what with your education beginning in the next few days," Krasmira said, crossing her arms. "Since your encounter with the spell was of short period, I'm comfortable shortening that time. However, I felt it prudent that at least a week pass."
"So…I can start again tomorrow?"
"Yes. Tomorrow." Somewhere in the distance, a clock chimed the hour, and Krasmira winced. "I need to get back to Professor McGonagall's office soon, as I'm meeting with a few of your professors. Madam Pomfrey and I have discussed my expectations extensively, and I believe that you'll be in excellent hands with her for this year."
Madam Pomfrey nodded. "You'll be learning different things but a lot of your knowledge will transfer over. Obviously, we don't typically see injuries as extreme as you've encountered during the summer, but a lot of your theoretical and applied knowledge will work very well for what you will find. You'll also be staffing the Hospital Wing on your own occasionally as well."
"Do you think I'm ready?" Hermione asked anxiously.
"I wouldn't let you do it otherwise," Madam Pomfrey sternly replied. "I take the well-being of every witch and wizard in this castle very seriously. These children are like my own."
"I'll do my best to be of assistance and not just a burden on your time."
The two older witches exchanged a wordless glance before Madam Pomfrey said, "Hermione, you'll be fine. I'll expect you for our first lesson during your normal time for Potions. Have you got your apprentice robes yet?"
"Apprentice robes?" She hadn't even heard of them. "Should I have?"
"Damn." Krasmira shifted. "In all the insanity of the last week, I completely forgot to tell you. You'll need some robes that designate you as an Apprentice Healer for when you're in the Infirmary. I'll send you a catalogue you can choose some from. Now, I've really got to go, and you do as well, Hermione. I'm sure I'll see you later, Poppy, but I've got to be off or I'll offend the entire teaching staff of Hogwarts."
Hermione quickly took her leave as well and made her way down the corridors to Professor Dumbledore's office, her stomach churning as the reality of her assessments loomed ever closer. She'd managed to put her worries at her performance aside for parts of the day, but with them looming so closely, they were now front and center. It didn't help that the castle was so quiet, either.
"Miss Granger."
The sound of a familiar, drawling voice caught her attention, and she tensed reflexively at the sight of Lucius Malfoy's imposing figure at the end of the corridor, framed in the flood of light coming from the high, arched windows.
It was jarring to see him in Hogwarts' halls, but since he'd managed to retain his position as the Head of the Board of Governors, she supposed it made sense for him to have business at the castle. Managing her surprise, she politely responded, "Lord Malfoy."
"I trust you had an excellent summer?" he inquired civilly, a shade of interest colouring his tone.
Startled, she said, "Yes, my time in Bulgaria was most satisfactory."
"I am glad to hear that," said the wizard who detested muggleborns. "It was a pleasure seeing you at the World Cup Ball only a few weeks ago and then the World Cup itself. I trust I will see you at more events like those in the near future now that you're apprenticed under Mistress Lazarov?"
"I...perhaps?" She hazarded, unsure what Krasmira had to do with attending upscale events.
The corner of the older wizard's mouth pulled up almost imperceptibly in the hint of a smile, his glacial eyes warming. "Should you need an escort to such things, I do hope you will consider Draco. He quite enjoyed conversing with you during the Ball and at the Cup."
She highly doubted that, considering their 'conversations' at both events had consisted of, perhaps, a few hundred words in total.
"I shall...take it under consideration," she managed to say without betraying her incredulity.
"I recognise that things between you and him, and even you and I, have been strained," he continued, "but I would like you to think of the Malfoys as allies should you ever need someone to call upon."
This was too much. "Lord Malfoy, I find it difficult to understand why you'd so much as talk to me given your position on muggleborns. Both you and Draco have made your thoughts about us abundantly clear."
He tilted his head to the side ever so slightly as he considered her, his hand tightening on the head of his cane. "Can we not grow as people?" He asked lightly. "I made a mistake when it came to you, Miss Granger. You are a very interesting young lady with potential. Muggleborns are at a disadvantage when it comes to entering our society, considering they begin with no knowledge of our culture or ways. Cissy—Narcissa, my wife—proposed that we take a Muggleborn under our wing, so to speak, and act as guides of sorts."
Sceptically, she asked, "And you'd like to do that for me?"
Malfoy inclined his head. "Who better than the witch who my son won't stop talking about? He is always upset that you consistently get better marks than him." As Hermione blinked at the idea of Draco writing home and whinging about her, of all people, Lucius went on, "Think about what I've said. I think you'd find it very enlightening. And if you are ever in need of anything…" He inclined his head just the slightest, "I would be happy to lend my assistance."
"I think you'll understand my hesitation to do so, Lord Malfoy," she replied bravely, though her hand clenched around her wand. "I simply can't understand how someone so against muggleborns could so suddenly decide to act counter to their beliefs."
Malfoy smiled, his grey eyes warming. "Like I said, Miss Granger. I made a mistake with you, one I'd like to remedy." In the distance, a clock tolled the hour, and Malfoy grimaced ever so slightly. "I shan't keep you any longer. When I was talking to him, Dumbledore—ah, Headmaster Dumbledore—mentioned you'd be visiting him to take placement examinations."
"I—yes, thank you." She wasn't sure she'd ever felt more off kilter in a conversation than she did in this one. "Have a good morning."
As she moved past him to continue to Professor Dumbledore's office, he called out, "Miss Granger?" She half-turned, looking over her shoulder as he said, "I wish you the best of luck, though I know you won't need it."
"Thank you," she repeated before continued on her way, leaving the Malfoy patriarch behind.
An offer to guide her through wizarding society? A change of heart due to his wife's suggestion? A mistake in his thinking about her?
It seemed implausible at best, and yet he had been unfailingly polite to her in their last few interactions that had taken place over the summer. But her memory was long, and she recalled vividly how he'd treated her and discussed muggleborns over the years. However…if he made a mistake, as he'd said, perhaps he was changing?
"Don't be ridiculous," she murmured to herself. The very concept was silly to even contemplate. One did not simply discard centuries of thinking because of one person. She'd even read about his involvement in the War—he'd been on the wrong side, though he'd claimed he'd been Imperioed.
No, something strange was going on. Something very strange.
Erm...hi? *sweats nervously*
You guys are amazing and supportive, and I've come back to this story because I love it and because you all love it.
To be very clear about the status of this story: I wanted to tell you all that this story is not abandoned and will never be abandoned. There was a long absence due to personal circumstances. It might happen again depending on my health. Because of that, I can't promise anything routine. I'm sorry :(
Please be gentle with me as we get back into things. It's been a minute, and I'm only human.
