Chapter Twelve: Stolen Sweaters and Hot Ink.
Disclaimer: I own none of the material written by J. K. Rowling, or her publishing company, or Warner Brothers.
Summary: Hermione continues to unravel the secrets of the Villis Malificus, Cedric Diggory has proven quite good at manipulating Hermione out of her shell. Daphne Greengrass is Hogwart's newest social pariah, and becoming Hermione's reluctant gal pal. Harry and Ron are no longer talking to their former friend. The Silky Voice is M.I.A.
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Cedric Diggory left Hermione feeling breathless. Especially when he was wearing Quidditch robes. Not quite something that the girl was used to.
The closest she had ever come to such a strange feeling was three weeks earlier right before the charming Gilderoy Lockhart started his infamously awful first lesson. Fortunately, when the pompous arse cowered like a tortoise in shell she had been prepared after a summer of intensively studying magic. Casting an intricate spell which produced unpleasantly coloured, noxious bubbles that did an adequate job of encapsulating the threatening Pixies. After this horrific experience she realized another year would be spent teaching herself with supplemental texts. In addition to cramming her head full of the made up dribble in Lockhart's book so as to at least maintain a good grade.
That seemed to be all she worried over though. Academics. With Ronald and Harry ignoring her all Hermione had to focus on was impressing the Witches' League and Nicholas Flamel. True to her nature these were not half-hearted attempts either. Already the muggleborn was doubling down on her studies with a ferocity that surprised even herself. Outside of Transfiguration she was already preparing to attempt Trans-Species Transformations. Professor Flitwick had been deeply impressed with her display of a Cheering Charm during Charm's Club. Astronomy, Herbology, and History of Magic were all no-brainers.
Given her immense ease with those last three subjects she took the initiative to begin a very successful study club on Sunday mornings and Wednesday evenings. Dozens of Gryffindors and plenty of Ravenclaws joined just to discover what made Hermione Granger so 'gifted.' As if that were not enough she threw herself into Ghoul Studies as well. Learning from a gaunt man with dark eyes that told of witnessed horrors discussed how to handle Vampires, Ghouls, Veelas, Poltergeists, and many more. Every Monday and Friday afternoon she also attended the art club. Learning the basics of creating moving portraits. There were other noticeable differences too. With so many intellectual outlets, Hermione was now better able to restrain herself from trying to impress the perpetually unimpressed Professor Snape. Keeping him happy would possibly lead to a better review when it came time for Nicholas Flamel to owl out evaluations.
Any other spare time was, very surprisingly, occupied by Daphne Greengrass. The pureblood witch faced just as much hatred from the Slytherins as Hermione did. Leaving them both the most isolated witches in all of Hogwarts. For every 'upstart mudblood' crudely slung out in the muggleborn's there was a 'traitorous mudwallower' viciously hurled Daphne's way. Both had faced worse, for Hermione nothing could compare to being nearly killed by Lord Voldemort, and simply shrugged it off with smart comebacks. They often could be found sitting cordially across from one another in the library. Never before had Hermione been in the company of a fellow intellectual her own age. In addition to these meetings the pair of girls often ate together in an amiable silence at the very end of the Gryffindor table. Only a week earlier Daphne had begun to wordlessly accompany Hermione during her early morning, duelling fitness workouts.
On the day of her thirteenth birthday Hermione sat alone in the library. Near the Restricted Section as usual. There was no need to sneak in given that Professor Lockhart could be manipulated into signing passes if sufficiently complimented by the Hermione Granger. No, she simply liked to be close to the forbidden knowledge for ease of access. Deciphering the Villis Malificus had proven challenging not just because each page moved with burning letters that rearranged into new patterns of information. What Hermione did manage to extract were usually bits of such advanced Dark Magic that she had to research many foundational texts before her mind could even begin to unravel the complex theory. So far her progress had been abysmal. Only half of the first page made any inkling of sense, and even then there were at least three different shifting combinations of information. One for a poison which released magical, rapid brain eating amoeba into the victim's body. The other two for a Hex and Curse with as of yet undetermined effects.
"Have you even bothered to eat today?" A familiarly taunting voice prompted her to slam the obviously mystical tome shut. Having used what she learnt from the knitting club, the precious book's title was obscured by a gold and red, knitted cover. Peering upwards she locked eyes with Cedric Diggory's concerned, grey orbs. He was dressed up for an afternoon of solo practice on the Quidditch Pitch, sleek broom in hand. They often danced in this little ritual. When she seemed to be teetering right on the edge between brilliance and insanity Cedric was always there to set things to rights. Whisking her away on fun field trips with no books allowed. "I already know the answer to that." His dimples flashed as he withdrew something from his pocket, settling it before her.
As the napkin fell away she delightedly realized it was her favorite. Eggs, bacon, and sausage, all stuffed within two pieces of buttery toast. The perfect meal for a day of studying. "Thank you, Cedric." Given that the Silky Voice had gone silent since suddenly flashing in front of her on the first day back at Hogwarts it was entirely her own mind that nitpicked her response to the Hufflepuff. Fighting desperately to not blush she watched as the talented wizard Banished the books back to where they belonged. Almost fifty hefty texts zoomed through the air.
"You're coming with me to the Quidditch Pitch," He nodded firmly, "For a sunny day away from this dungeon."
"Some of us happen to appreciate this library," She sniffed indignantly, "Besides. I have to tryout for the Frog Choi-."
"Frog Choir?" He asked in an incredulous tone. "Hermione. You are being ridiculous. What's next? Quidditch?" They stared at one another with wide eyes. Prior to breaking out into a cacophony of snickers. "Eat," He intoned with sudden seriousness whilst standing. "I won't spend all day trying to convince you. We both know you will enjoy yourself if you tag along." With that he began to walk away. Scurrying quickly to put her things away, Hermione followed closely with her large, brown, designer satchel dangling loosely off of one shoulder.
On the weekends when there was no uniform she tended to test modelling samples. Cleverly taking advantage of her proximity to hundreds of fashion hungry girls to see what was in trend. For her birthday she wore a pair of high waisted jeans with a pink wrap blouse from some wizarding seamstress based in Kent. True to the Wizarding World, however, it was greatly influenced by the 1940s. Already her hair was growing curlier into a mass of sleekened tufts as the sleakeazy wore off. She was simply glad to have not worn heels for once given her impulse to tag along with Cedric.
As they marched along through the ancient halls she noticed how people stared speculatively at them. The thirteen-year-old girl decided to focus on Cedric instead of fretting over such attention. His favourite Quidditch team was apparently the Montrose Magpies. She had huffed a sigh of relief which he remarked upon. "A former friend loved to talk about the Chudley Cannons. At least your team has won in the last century." At this Cedric chuckled, reminding her that his mum was a Scottish witch who would have switched him black-and-blue if he dared support an English team. True to her nature such lighthearted discussions often turned into academic ones. Cedric was nearly two years older and an extremely talented wizard to boot. Hermione also secretly enjoyed the fluttering of her stomach when the boy expressed amazement at how much fourth year material she already knew.
That particular day they were far more chatty than usual. By the time the two reached the sunny Quidditch Pitch, Hermione already knew that he wanted to become a Metal Charmer, even though his father was pressuring him to work in the Ministry. During most of their talks she could tell that his father was a manipulative, helicopter parent. Exhausted from an eventful week she had wasted no time resting on the field beside their belongings as he pulled off his sweater, and eagerly rocketed up into the sky. Watching his many spectacular moves every so often she continued to decipher the Villis Malificus. For the next two hours this continued until dark clouds suddenly descended. Thick rain droplets striking angrily down at Hogwarts.
She held her bag above her head as the moisture caused her brown hair to explode into a wild mane. Cedric swooped down wildly, picking his belongings up hurriedly. Already his dark hair was saturated by the rain. An adorable grin stretched across his face. "Take this," He tossed his Hufflepuff Quidditch sweater to her as they began to run. Hermione wasted no time throwing it across her head like a canopy prior to following him. Laughing like they were insane the pair scrambled through dirt and mud all the way back up to Hogwarts. Finally they came to a stop in the Entry Hall drawing eyes from all around. "I guess we should part ways here, Granger." Those mischievous dimples and glittering, grey eyes left Hermione's butterflies swirling again. "It's a shame that you missed your Frog Choir audition. Though I have to say I am happy you will still have at least some time to spend with old me."
"Anytime, Diggory," She shot back cheekily, surprising herself. With a final grin he turned to head off for the Hufflepuff common room, presumably.
OOOO
Hermione realized later that night that she had forgotten to return his now-dry sweater. Instead of setting it aside, however, she simply tugged it over her Banshee Silk nightgown. The thing was much too large with 'Diggory 14' emblazoned on the back and a proud looking badger on the front. The smell of bourbon, fresh air on a sunny day, and new parchment filled her nose in a delightful swirl.
The thirteen-year-old witch had not fallen asleep so easily in a quite a long while.
OOOO
"Dumbledore gives me the creeps," Daphne declared prior to sneezing. She had contracted the common cold like most of the other students at Hogwarts. Hermione, however, had been well-prepared in advance with her own personal brew of Pepperup Potion. It was October now. The sunny days swiftly growing outnumbered by rainy weather patterns and falling leaves. "All he does is stare at you and Potter. If he has something planned is it too much to ask for him to pounce already?"
"Likely waiting for me to mess up." Hermione responded morosely. That was likely the truth. Luckily for her she only ever studied. Though hopefully the Headmaster would never take an extreme interest in what it was exactly that she was researching. Fingers twitching jitterishly about the fourth year defensive magic book in her grasp the muggleborn tried to remain calm. Dumbledore wanted to get into her head. He was doubtlessly trying to set her on edge that an easier prey might be picked off when he swooped. A rush of cold air left her gasping loudly for air whilst ectoplasm rose from her robes in a pearly mist. "I am so sorry Ser Nicholas." She apologized profusely. In a clever move the girl had begun visiting the ghosts for an edge in History of Magic. Jeopardizing a relationship with the very helpful Gryffindor ghost was no way to go.
Daphne sneezed causing Ser Nick to glare distrustfully at the Slytherin. "Not to worry, Miss. Granger!" He only had smiles for her instead. "I was meaning to invite you to my five-hundredth death day party next Friday anyways! Prominent guests from around the country shall be in attendance. You can bring company as well…" Snidely he glanced at Daphne again as though immediately regretting having said that.
"Of course we will attend!" Hermione trilled excitedly. Her ally shifted unhappily at being invited to an eccentric extravaganza without warning. "I have an evening gown I have been dying to wear."
Silence rung heavily in the air. Until finally Ser Nick chuckled uproariously, "I get it!" Still chuckling he floated away. Ramming his ectoplasm through more students all the while.
"I was going to spend Halloween in bed." Daphne croaked resentfully, "Taking advantage of the Slytherins celebrating Samhain. Too preoccupied to Hex me in my sleep."
"You know exactly what would stop that," Hermione responded easily. The crowd thickened down that particular corridor. Little Ginny Weasley slammed into the older girl rather obnoxiously with a glare prior to running off. Static raced across Hermione's body at the contact. Ignoring it, she turned back to the Slytherin.
"Not worth it Hermione." Daphne snapped back when they could no longer be overheard. "We cannot practice duelling until Dumbledore turns his gaze from us. Unauthorized, combative magic is an expellable offense!" She had easily sussed out just how dangerous Hermione's extracurriculars were after finding one of the Villis Malificus' partially translated contents. Scoffing in response, the muggleborn rolled both eyes. "Before you dare say it, I am not scared. Merely conscious of the repercussions unlike some hotheaded mudbloods." They both froze at the indecent word. "Hermione, I did not mean t-."
"Better to be a mudblood than an inbred cunt," She snapped back hotly in were alone now. Part of the girl's emotions whirled angrily at what had just been said to her. Thankfully, her smart mind rationalized that it was no surprise her new friend thought of her in such a way. Since becoming allies in September the pair had done lots of things together. Forced bonding first creating grudging respect, then sympathetic understanding, and finally the weakest embers of a possible friendship. Daphne was still in some ways Pansy's crony. 'I haven't fully made her mine yet.' Shocked that the thought came from herself and not the, still absent, Silky Voice, Hermione decided it was quite true. The Greengrass girl would eventually have to come to terms with her cognitive dissonance at having spent so much time with a brilliant muggleborn. Not one to squander an opportunity at turning a talented witch away from Purist ideology, Hermione calmed instantly after remembering the necessity of patience.
A thick silence saturated the air between them. So heavy, so dense that what happened next was uncontrollable.
They broke into a raucous fit of giggles. The pressures of Dumbledore, Purism, expectations, and school-related anxiety dissipating. "Quite a scandalous vocabulary, Miss Granger." Daphne snickered, "Better hope I don't tattle to Witch Weekly." That was one of Cordelia's favourite curses. High shock value and useful for making the weak-willed quiver in their boots. Hermione had grown fond of it.
"It is just a word, Daphne. I am a mudblood, and you are a blood traitor. Do labels define us?" She sobered up as they began to walk again. They finally arrived at McGonagall's class.
"No. Unless we are in Transfiguration," Daphne answered morosely. She had a point. Few Professors clung so mightily to the unshakable view of Dumbledore's godly status as McGonagall. The woman had become a nightmare. Refusing to call on Hermione, and betraying that she could be just as awful as Snape on the flip side. Daphne claimed that the woman had always been a nightmare. To Slytherins at least. With dismal faces they slunk into the back of the room to sit as far from the woman as possible.
"Slag," Pansy Parkinson hissed at Daphne as they passed, "We heard that you gave that mudblood Finch-Fletchley a quickie in the Trophy Room." Millicent Bulstrode chortled beside her.
"At least Daphne will never have to copulate with her cousin." Hermione cut in sharply, guiding a red-faced Daphne forth at the same time. "Or with Millicent. Given that no man will ever willingly come near you unless he has been bribed by your father, pug face." A wry grin flashed over the brunette's features, "Careful though. I heard the most delicious rumour that our dear Milly's grandmother had an affair with a muggle plebeian. Who even knows how many of her grandchildren are part shoe shiner."
"Take your seats, class," McGonagall strode into the room allowing Hermione to sit beside Daphne with no retributive comment from Pansy. The chalk flew upwards to begin writing on its own as they flew into theory. What followed was a boring regurgitation of old theory. Then came a practical lesson. A boring refresher from the prior year at that. Simple snail to teapot. Hermione accomplished it in seconds. Daphne only just behind. "Five points from Slytherin, Greengrass," The scottish Transfigurer appeared almost from behind them, "For an inability to steady your wrist during casting. Your pot could do with improvement as well, Granger." Sniffing she walked away while the two girl's collective enemies snickered.
"That is barmy," Hermione snapped tersely, vision beginning to turn red. What had been a shower of praise from McGonagall the previous year was now nothing but a torrent of unhelpful vitriol. Her vision turned red as she glared at her perfect, Yixing stoneware teapot. Daphne placed a calming hand on her elbow but the muggleborn shrugged it off. Neck twisting into a violent stretch as resentful rage bubbled in her stomach. At the front of the class Harry was awarded six points for a teapot that resembled an oversized snail shell. Air seemed to blow across her ears in a soft, sweet breath.
'You are better than this,' The Silky Voice was back, 'So, so much more powerful than anyone has ever given you credit for. Do not cower. Show that bint just how wrong she is to cross you. How powerful of an enemy she will one day have.' Hermione could feel his presence behind her. Remembered how handsome he had been in the glimpse she caught of him the month prior. 'I know all of the necessary theories swirl within your head. You know so much, but you never use it. What a waste of talent.'
That comment seemed to do it. "McGonagall," Hermione stood wildly to both feet, the chair screeching backwards. Her, once favourite, Professor whirled around while everyone turned to stare. "I am the best student you have seen in decades, and we both know it. My teapot is fit for royalty. I do not appreciate being unfairly diminished whatsoever."
"Miss Granger! Go out to the hal-!"
Lip curling Hermione felt herself guided by the Silky Voiced spectre. He now stood beside her in all of his marblesque glory. 'Do it. Or you will never have her respect again.' Spells began to flow from her lips at a breakneck pace. Advanced magic that she had not dreamt of trying to practice for a while still. The teapot became a massive tortoise, then a scattering flock of vibrantly coloured hummingbirds. Ron's aberration of a teapot vanished causing him to squeal only for Daphne's perfect specimen to replace it in a demonstration of a skillful Switching Spell. In a string of incantations and wand movements she left everyone gasping as their snails and teapots were Vanished. Fourth year material executed by a second year across a wide range of space. Impressed gaps ensued. Even McGonagall seemed so shocked by the display that her mouth practically hung open.
"Orchideous," This was as far as she had read on her own. A fourth year spell which would build into her grand finale. Mounds of snowy, white roses exploded from the tip of her wand until she paused to Vanish every last spot of green. Leaving only a massive mound of delicate petals on her desk. So large that puddles had oozed unto the floor below. At much cajoling she had convinced Cedric to teach her the Banishing Charm. Her prior attempts had been weak. However, considering the minimal weight of the petals and a Breeze Charm she could cast it would be no issue. The two spells paired together worked smashingly well. A cloud of white beauty swept wildly across the room. More lovely than anything Hermione could recall ever having seen before.
Still the rose petals swirled as Hermione spoke her last words, "Dumbledore can expel me for this. But I don't care anymore. I will not be treated like trash and have my growth suppressed for political matters beyond my control. Perhaps Beauxbatons or Ilvermorny will be more hospitable." With that she stormed from the class. Petals clinging to every inch of her body. Body brimming with energy she slipped into an ancient alcove to gasp wildly for breath. Brown bag slinging down to dangle from her hand, petals swirling from her hair. Silky Voice stood in front of her. A smirk plastered across his handsome face. 'I am here to stay, my sweet mudblood.' His supple lips did not move even as the words whipped again across her ears.
Suddenly he disappeared.
She felt more powerful and confident than ever before. Even though this new level of influence he wielded over her was admittedly concerning it was not entirely unpleasant. Relishing the overly excited magical core Hermione Granger inhaled the scent of her aura in for the first time.
Fresh, hot ink which coated her tongue like a layer of ozone.
OOOO
Later that day Hermione found herself absentmindedly dazing in Ghoul Studies after final class had ended. The creepy instructor was droning about Vampires, or mayhaps it was Wights, and a particular subset that lived near rivers. Unable to focus she simply allowed her mind to soar high. Until the door was practically slammed open. "Granger. We need to speak." McGonagall stood resolutely against the door. Paying her glowering colleague no heed whatsoever. Without any nervousness Hermione simply grabbed hold of her bag. Already deciding to make an early night of it, and not return to the class until the next session.
Following the Transfigurer into the hall they walked a ways until finally stopping. "First, you will never perform such reckless, untrained magic without my explicit permission ever again, Miss Granger." McGonagall eyed her firmly. The muggleborn simply nodded mutely. "Now," She paused as though this next bit was difficult, "I must apologize. You are right that I judged you unfairly based off of what I had read in the Daily Prophet." What she did not say was that Dumbledore had likely spoken to her just like he had with Harry and Ronald. "It will never happen again, Miss Granger. Within these walls I will only ever treat you equally to everyone else. I shall try to work harder at reigning in my biases."
An awkward silence fell between them. "Forty points to Gryffindor," The scottish woman announced suddenly, causing Hermione to jump, "For the most advanced, self-taught display of Transfiguration I have seen in two decades." Green eyes crinkled down at her most talented student, "The true purpose of my stopping in today was to extend a formal invitation for you to join the fourth year students in Transfiguration. If you play your cards right you could Master my subject by sixth year. Exactly the sort of thing which might impress Nicholas Flamel. Helpful for a student who intend to take heavier course loads later as well."
Hermione only had to think for a split moment. Ron and Harry were no longer her friends, so she cared nought about leaving them behind in the dust. Daphne, on the other hand, would perhaps grow to appreciate her more if she had to suffer Transfiguration alone. Clearly a needed conclusion for the Slytherin to reach after what she had said that morning. "Of course Professor McGonagall. I cherish every opportunity to be challenged intellectually." A new time table was thrusted into her hands in response.
"You will catch up on all of the coursework that has already been completed Miss Granger, by November first. Enjoy the rest of your day." She strode off leaving Hermione to smile excitedly down at her timetable. Perhaps a tea with honey would settle her frazzled, uncertain mind at ease.
OOOO
I honestly have no clue when Hermione will begin dating. She is a year older than Harry, after all. Mainly, however, the stuff with Cedric is meant to give her a friendship with at least some semblance of normalcy.
Next Chapter: Groundbreaking Advancements.