Chapter Thirteen: Groundbreaking Advancements.
Disclaimer: I own none of the material written by J. K. Rowling, or her publishing company, or Warner Brothers.
Summary: The Silky Voice has returned, stronger than ever, and seems surprisingly keen on feminine empowerment. A very special friend has been lurking in the background, and is destined to become Hermione's newest pal. Hermione has skipped two years in Transfiguration. Harry and Ron are acting like wusses. Ser Nick has invited Hermione, and her reluctant plus one, to the event of the year.
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The only fourth year Transfiguration class which corresponded to Hermione's timetable had been with the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. She might have shuddered in delight at no more Slytherins if not for the fact that her day was total tripe. Yes, shitty days were quite a big part of being an adult. Due to her status as, likely, the most mature student in Hogwarts Hermione often attempted to correct things with attitude. However, in the weeks since her skipping two years of Transfiguration something had set Hermione Granger's teeth grinding. There was a burning in her belly which could not be cooled, a thirst in her throat that could not be quenched, and an aching in her brain that absolutely refused to go away.
A determination to prove herself.
Yes, that had always been there before. From the times when she taught herself to read as a small child. But now it was not to please others. Becoming a social pariah except for Daphne and Cedric, realizing powerful Wizards like Dumbledore were not infallible, as well as that, now famous, magical conniption fit she displayed in front of all the other second years. Every bit of it had caused her to realize that nobody else maintained standards which were anywhere near her own. Why try to impress people who were not even capable of impressing themselves? This also left the witch feeling quite behind. More than a year wasted trying to drag herself down to the level of Ron and Harry when she had proven herself capable of so much more since the start of that summer alone. Coupled with all that stress to catch up to where she should have been was rage. At a system full of manipulators like the Malfoys or Dumbledore who might have squandered her full potential.
This suddenly constant desire to be the first muggleborn at Hogwarts to surpass Dumbledore, Voldemort, and even Merlin was already sufficient. Coupled with the arrival of one of her horrendous bouts of period cramps it was enough to make her commit murder. Cedric had already been long partnered with a friend, unsurprising given his popularity, which left Hermione stuck with Zacharias Smith. The critical prick liked to poke jabs at how Hermione's spotty consistency was a result of her 'underdeveloped foundation.' Even though he was direly incompetent. As though that were not enough the boy had obviously zoned in on trying to court her like several other idiots. Despite having only been Harry Potter's muggleborn pal the year prior she now was an heiress as well as a talented one at that. "Zacharias," She suddenly snapped as a back spasm stabbed her like a white knife, "I would rather french kiss an engorged Vampire than take tutoring from you. So kindly fuck off."
Hermione slipped from the emptying class faster than a bat from hell. Eyes slipping to her watch she sighed in relief. There was still enough time to take a nice bath before Sir Nick's Deathday Party. She did just that. Locking the door with a nifty, advanced spell, and placing a Hovering Charm on what had become her obsession. Translating the Villis Malificus. Even though she was only through page four the girl had already learnt so much. The reference books taken from the Restricted Section were not only good for breaking the cipher on the Godelot tome, but for learning purposes as well. She was already learning about, morally questionable, ingredients which could cut brewing times in half for certain Potion's, tricky little maneuvers which could strengthen spells, and even more. Then there was the knowledge extracted directly from the Villis Malificus. Bits of information she was sure even Dumbledore or Voldemort did not know.
Though she could not pretend to know exactly what could have led to their greatness, Hermione was sure it started with 'Dark Magic.' At her age the pair of famous wizards had probably been dancing shortcuts around their peers and instructors alike. Embracing heavily stigmatized theories in private whilst allowing others to brush their incredible achievements off onto sheer talent. A clever tactic that Hermione would have no qualms utilizing as she continued to embrace illicit knowledge. Locking away her precious book the girl dried out her tangled hair, applied the standard dosage of Sleakeazy, and tugged on her evening gown.
Much of Wizarding fashion was strange. While Hermione had tried to stay near mainly muggle-ish options she had noticed during her photoshoot at Witch Weekly that they forced her into many historically inspired outfits. From the Victorian era to the 1950's it seemed that high fashion was similar to the longer than average lifespan of wizards. Certain trends were long-lived as well as woven into latter trends which the muggle world had already outgrown. If she were being quite honest with herself, Hermione absolutely loved it. Where in the muggle world could a girl wear a Victorian dress, that had all the edginess of twentieth-century fashion, to a Deathday Party? The answer was simple enough.
So she decided to go all out on her outfit. A Victorian Topper of gorgeous, milky-white feathers was woven artfully around her sleek hair. The sleeves of her dress were so high that she could wear bracelets. In a spur of the moment Hermione reached for a box from a prominent Wizarding jeweler in Britain. They had been sending samples to ensure that her measurements were accurate for future modelling campaigns. The girl took a moment to admire how the fire agates, set within twin, lustrously engraved silver bands, shimmered in the candlelight. The door opening and two loud gasps alerted Hermione to the sudden arrival of Parvati and Lavender. "You look gorgeous." Lavender's eyes were wide as saucers. Parvati's mouth hung open. "I have only ever seen my mother wear clothes like that before. You could start a comeback for Victorian fashion dressed that way!"
"Thank you," Hermione responded cordially. She strapped on a pair of nondescript, black heels prior to wrapping a silky cloak of scarlett around her throat. Pausing only to make sure to take a bottle of Ibuprofen from her sizeable store. Then with the posture of a Pureblood Princess Hermione Granger swept down the stairs to the packed Common Room. Apparently Harry and Ron were serving detention for their idiotic, flying car stunt. Everyone else in Gryffindor, however, took note of just how much Hermione Granger had changed over the summer. She loved every moment of it.
Nose pointed high in the air she flowed out through the Fat Lady to find Daphne waiting for her. True to her daring nature the girl wore a crimson, v-neck gown which stopped at her ankles. Revealing a pair of unbelievably, for their age at least, high heels. Hermione had barely surpassed kitten heels, and could not fathom walking in something like what her friend wore. "You two make quite a pair," The Fat Lady remarked coyly behind them. "Try not to get into too much trouble, loves." They giggled at her words before jetting off toward the Deathday Party.
"You look marvelous, Granger," Daphne said as they neared ever closer to their destination. Hermione smiled embarrassedly. Her gown swept across the floor given that it was so long. Vertical lines of black and gold competed with one another all the way up to her shoulders.
"I figured that a ghostly party was certainly the best time to embrace Victorian fashion," She responded easily. Suddenly they stopped as Daphne pointed at something. A ways down the hall were Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode. Both cornering a younger girl with silvery, almost ethereal, hair.
"Looney Lovegood," Pansy hissed, "Do you know what we do to freaks like you?"
"She is an utter disgrace to her family name." Millicent said suddenly, "Walking around like this. How on earth could your ilk possibly have made it onto the Sacred Twenty-Eight?"
"PARKINSON!" Daphne bellowed, "Why don't you pick a fight with me instead. Much fairer, don't you think?" The two Slytherins turned around, faces growing devoid of any colour. Both wasted no time moving to withdraw their wands. Hermione lifted her skirts quickly to whip her own wand into the air. She glanced at Daphne in her periphery, immensely glad to see the Greengrass witch had done the same. "Hermione is our generation's most powerful witch," The blonde jibed icily, "And my hate for you burns dangerously hot. Do you really want to risk duelling us when Millicent here only knows the Curse of the Bogies?"
Reluctantly Pansy stepped aside from 'Loony' Lovegood. "Millie and I are going to practice. Mark my words, you mud-wallowing bitches." She started to back way, Millicent following closely behind.
"Merlin rutting with Morgana!" Daphne exclaimed, prompting Hermione to smirk. "How did I put up with that snide hag for a year?"
"You surround yourself with what you are, dearie…" Hermione trailed off tauntingly. All the while she neared the shockingly unshaken girl. "What is your name?" She appraised how oddly the Lovegood girl was dressed. A belt of what looked to be interwoven, twisted fishing hooks over a thick set of, clearly handmade, robes crafted from thick fishing nets. Twisted into the girl's gorgeously silver locks were seashells. Not exactly the sort of outfit which made for an easy time at Hogwarts. Two eyes of a shocking silver, so insightful and bemusedly curious, peered at them both.
"Oh! Yes. Names are important. You are Hermione Granger and that is Daphne Greengrass." She stared at Hermione with wide eyes for a long moment. Then suddenly popped back as though coming free from her trance. "I am Luna Lovegood. It was my intention to visit the Deathday Party until those two blocked the way. I might just go to the Great Hall now instead. The Nargles seem to have contaminated me after those two pushed at my shoulders."
"No. You should come with us." Hermione could already feel Daphne's exasperation. Though she did not particularly care. Everything inside of her was screaming that it was wise to befriend this girl. After all, she could remember how it felt to be alone at Hogwarts. A place that was meant to hold a special space in everyone's heart. Besides, only having Daphne for a friend could be tiresome. Hermione had gotten used to the Pureblood girl, but only just, and their formal friendship could be rather grating at times. "How many mortals can claim to have attended such an event?"
"You can be incredibly charismatic when you try, Hermione Granger. Has anyone ever told you that?" Luna's strange eyes peered at her with a mystical air.
"No…" Hermione trailed off questioningly. They stared at one another for a moment before the First Year turned around to lead the way.
"That is a very interesting dress." Daphne remarked loudly at Luna's back.
"Thank you." Luna slowed a pace as she gripped at her robes. "Wrackspurts detest Sea Shrakes. If one dresses as though they have been near the ocean recently it gives the impression they might be in regular contact with Sea Serpents." That seemed to be the Lovegood girl's cup of tea. Saying outlandish, outrageous things before cutting the conversation short again. She was like a puzzle Hermione wanted very much to put together.
Fortunately they all arrived to the location of Ser Nick's Deathday Party only moments later. "You all have arrived," Ser Nick eagerly brushed them into the chamber. "I would offer to take your cloaks but…" He was a ghost, they all understood that. At least, Hermione assumed Luna did. The other girl stood their in her dreamy state until Daphne lost her patience, and began gesticulating for Luna to remove her cloak. Hanging them from a tarnished stand next to the door all three followed their host into the dim chamber which was crowded with ghosts. "I appreciate you three coming. To have mortals attend my Deathday celebration makes it all the more special."
Hermione was about to say something nice when she gagged. Daphne followed suit soon after. Even Luna was knocked backwards by the stench with her throat convulsing. She remembered swiftly from Ghoul Studies that Ghosts could only consume other dead things. While they found the moldy fragrance repulsive the Ghosts likely did not. Quickly Hermione pulled away the other mortals towards a dance floor of sorts so they would not insult the Ghosts by vomiting. A saw was playing ominous music from a nearby podium as many Spirits whirled tempestuously about. "I can only take so much of this," Hermione shivered at the ominous scene.
"Wait a moment," Daphne responded. Picking her way gingerly through the ocean of chilly ectoplasm. Predictably Luna wound up swirling by herself nearby to the macabre sounds. Almost ready to leave Hermione listened as the music suddenly came to a jarring halt. Over the annoyed din of tittering Ghosts she swore she heard the distinct sound of Daphne bellowing at the troupe of saw players. Then suddenly those shouts were replaced with the gentle plucking of a harp. In a reluctant manner the ghosts started to play alongside the Pureblood mortal. It was a far more structured and lively tune. Something gentle yet magical. Hermione imagined momentarily it was a sound fitting for Hogwarts.
"Would you care to dance with me?" Asked a haunting voice. The spirit was a handsome young man except for the grisly arrow wound which stained his otherwise opulent robes.
"I cannot dance," Hermione responded in her warmest, possible tone, "Thank you for asking."
He chuckled. "I usually haunt my family home in London. Though when I heard the Hermione Granger-Pyrites was attending this event I decided to return to Hogwarts temporarily." Those translucent eyes peered speculatively at her. "You are a fast learner of Pureblood ways, I suppose. Already it is clear you hold yourself and speak like one. Though after a bit of conversation you clearly lack the depth of skill it takes to blend in with the creme-de-la-creme."
"Are you mocking me?" Hermione asked sharply. She had never considered how many of these Ghosts might have poor views of muggleborns prior to wandering into a chamber full of them.
"There it is." He nodded to himself, "A Pureblooded debutante would know that there is strength in the facade of decorum. You could have responded to me with something sharper, more tactful. Perhaps, 'It is not very gentlemanly to make sport of a Lady's foibles.' See the difference? That contained a reprimand of my forward choice in conversation as well as drawing attention away from your own shortcomings."
"I do not believe in hiding my shortcomings. They cannot be improved from the darkness." Her response reflected her annoyance at his presence.
"Oh no, silly girl," He chuckled, "I am teaching you how to buy yourself time. Soon enough you will be at parties like this, except with Wizarding aristocrats instead of Phantoms. If you do not learn the intricacies now they will ridicule your attitude, inability to dance or play instruments, and your general inability to blend in."
"That is a tall order to teach me in a single night," Hermione retorted in a firm tone.
"I would be thrilled to teach you until you are ready," He answered in turn. "Even if it means I must stay here this full year."
"What did you say your name was, again?" She fired off in a quizzical tone.
He stared at her with an amused expression for a long pause. "You may call me Byron. I imagine you will be quite impressed with my surname when the time comes to impart it. So, let us make a deal. If you play along with my ambition to turn you into a respectable, winsome debutante, I will tell you my full name and answer your every lingering question."
Hermione was intrigued. She enjoyed mysteries, after all, just thinking of Cordelia's past, the Villis Malificus' secrets, or more recently Luna Lovegood, set her pulse racing. "You win Byron." Her lips tightened, "I will quit knitting club and we will meet three times a week before dinner."
"Wonderful." He smiled with an odd expression in his ghostly eyes. "Now we will dance." They did just that as outside sunset turned to inky darkness. While Daphne impressed Britain's most prominent Ghosts with her skills at the harp, and Luna raised many undead eyebrows, Hermione felt like the belle of the ball. Shockingly it was not so difficult to dance with a Ghost as she had initially imagined it might. Finally, they broke away to the edge of the room, well away from the moldy food options. "I will meet with you at our prearranged location," Byron announced to her, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Hermione Granger-Pyrites." With a gentle farewell she bid the agreeable Ghost farewell.
Smiling Hermione waited for her friends by the door. Exchanging pleasantries with the talkative Ghosts. After what seemed like eternity they all exited the chamber after bidding Ser Nick thanks. "That was a right smash!" Daphne giggled throatily at the other two, spinning prettily about in her crimson gown. "They loved me. I even put those saw players in their place."
"Thank you for urging me to attend, Hermione," Luna, comparatively speaking, was incredibly calm. "I noticed a correlation between the presence of Nargles and how many Ghosts were present. Perhaps wide spectral phenomenon can act as a deterrence!" Hermione simply hummed in agreement. Dancing had proven truly invigorating. She was getting into good shape with all of her running, but there had been so much passion in the air. Whether that was simply from Byron's personality, or the actual act of dancing itself, Hermione was not rightly certain.
"Crikey! Cedric!" She gasped suddenly with a hand on her heart as they all rounded a corner. Standing in the Hufflepuff Hogwarts robes he had worn earlier for classes was the tall fourth year. Breathing stabilizing Hermione observed as he approached them.
"Hullo," He smirked in that particular way of his which always sucked the air out of her chest. There was a peculiar look in his warm, vividly grey eyes. Hermione could not place the strange expression, but noted how Daphne seemed to gain a speculative look to her features. Deciding to ask for the other girl's opinion later they all stopped in a close group in the middle of the hall. "Why weren't you at dinner? And why are you dressed like that?" His voice was not condescending. Again there was simply some odd emotion on his face Hermione was not privy to.
"We attended Ser Nick's Deathday Party-." She cut herself off suddenly. Stumbling into a wall. 'Kill. Kill. Rip. Tear. Kill. Kill Kill.' Something bad was about to happen. That much was clear to Hermione as the ancient voice started to move on towards something. Her friends all cloistered around in concern until she scurried passed them. "We need to hurry," Hermione called back. She scurried wildly after the voice filled her head. Until her clicking heels splashed into a large puddle of water. The liquid on her heel-clad feet seemed to make her mind regain some semblance of order.
"Paquara," Cedric called out after skidding to a halt behind her. Instantly the water moved aside into billowing pools so they could pass.
"How biblical of you." Hermione remarked coyly.
"Moses never could have done that quite so neatly." Cedric quipped back.
"I hate to interrupt you two love birds," Daphne snapped irritably, "But why are we charging into a flooded corridor like insane people?"
"I heard something," Hermione said slowly, "Didn't you?" All of them shook their head with odd expressions. Nervously she started forth to follow the leak. The voice only she could hear was gone now. In a trepidant manner Hermione continued to follow along in the general direction. Written with what appeared to be blood on the wall of a typically busy corridor of the castle were ominous words. 'The Chamber of Secrets has been Opened! Enemies of the Heir Beware…' Standing on dry ground, thanks to Cedric's nifty spell, Hermione felt her fists clench. This message was directed to her. She could feel it in her bones. Yet that was all superstition, she merely must have been imagining it.
'You are not.' The Silky Voice generally left her to her own devices. Now he stood beside her as they both gazed at the dripping wall. 'Do exactly as you have been warned. Beware.' With that he vanished as footsteps sloshing through puddles of water approached. Hundreds of them. Standing in a Victorian gown, her feather adorned hair wild once more after an evening of dancing, Hermione turned to face the onslaught. Unbeknownst to her, Harry and Ron must have stumbled onto the scene as well coming from the opposite direction. Hermione's three new friends all stood in direct contrast to with the two boys. Yet despite their differences the two groups were similar in at least one way.
Mrs. Norris dangled above their heads from a torchlight.
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"I do not want to know anything about this Chamber," Hermione ground out bitterly, "It is already burnt into my mind." Daphne had been discussing how they all should hunt for a copy of Hogwarts: A History for more information. Of course the one book none of them had brought to Hogwarts that term would hold all of the answers to their questions. The Granger-Pyrites witch did not care to find an answer to her questions for once though. After stumbling upon them all during that ill-fated moment six days prior on Friday evening, Draco Malfoy had nailed all her suspicions right square on the head. 'You'll be next, mudbloods,' The pompous shit had hissed right her way.
This Chamber of Secrets was clearly related to the Blood Purism that had divided Wizarding Britain since its inception. 'Beware' in conjunction with the Silky Voice's warning and a Petrified Mrs. Norris were clear enough. Muggleborns needed to worry about their safety.
"Daphne is right," Luna said, her dreaminess replaced with something shockingly serious. "We all could feel it. That message is meant for muggleborns. But why? I feel the Nargles swirling around you in particular. Someone has it out for you Hermione. The question is what this means? Even all of the Professors seemed concerned." Luna, as clueless as she sometimes seemed to be, was even concerned about these events. Hermione cracked her neck in response. An attempt to keep the fear from spreading any further than it already had.
"Well," She snapped, "They are generally sycophants to Dumbledore. Useless, the lot of them." Given her proclivity for unpopular conspiracies, Luna had already nestled quite well within their group. Already spilling to them that she and her father secretly believed that the Headmaster remotely controlled Minister Fudge through a tincture mainly consisting of horseradish and Dragon musk. If that little disclosure had been wild, her theory regarding how it came into contact with Fudge's rectum was even weirder. Of course, while Hermione did not believe her friend distrusted Dumbledore for the proper reasons, she still distrusted him which counted for something. So much to Daphne's chagrin the Ravenclaw was already becoming strongly entrenched in their little group.
"Hullo," Cedric chirped suddenly as Hermione had begun to pack away her books in an irritable manner. "I confronted Binns during lecture today," He confided whilst slipping into a chair. "Apparently Salazar Slytherin constructed the Chamber of Secrets to rid the school of muggleborns. Right before the other Founders forcibly evicted him from the premises." Hermione paused cramming her many books into her stylish satchel. "Rumour has it that only an Heir of Slytherin can open the Chamber and control whatever beast is kept inside." Daphne fell silent in contemplation while Luna buzzed in her deceptively ditzy manner.
Hermione stood up to leave, doing so without a word. Ignoring her friends calling out at her back she marched out of the library and all the way to a secluded hall. Her mind needed distraction. With shaking hands she hefted the Villis Malificus free alongside a Cantonese translation book. Wasting not a moment Hermione hurried to begin translating again. Enjoying the mindlessness of what others might have considered a dull activity. She spent a long while this way until finally finishing deciphering another pattern of the book, but this time on the fourth page. With only fifteen minutes until her Potions class Hermione stared at her translation. A spell which could totally crush someone into a pulp using the pressure around them.
"Marvelous!" Hermione hissed loudly, "Bloody, fucking, marvelous!" She tucked a lock of mildly bushy, mostly sleek hair behind her ear. A passing Ghost tsked about degrading social standards causing Hermione's blood to boil. Women could swear nowadays, in her book at least. "Take your misogynistic attitude somewhere else, Sir," She bit at him verbally, "If a woman could cure Dragon Pox then I can surely say whatever the fuck I want." Hurriedly, the Granger girl scurried to consider the implications of what she had found in her ancestral book of never before discovered, magical advancements. She was entirely unaware of the scowling, dark face which observed her from around a corner.
Hermione was so caught up in her secrets that she hardly had a spare moment to realize that they were not so well hidden as she once imagined.
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Hermione is a human girl. I feel like nobody in Fanfiction ever really explores the implications of that. She is struggling not only with her new heritage, politics, fame, and new career as a model, but also trying to handle her awkward mid-pubescence. So sue me if I feel like we all need to mention how grating mansplaining wizards like Zacharias Smith can be when you are on your period.
Also, I know the swearing is not very cannon-like of Hermione. However, I like to think that her time with Cordelia is beginning to put thoughts in her head she might not have had before. Though you all seem to dislike her, I imagine Cordelia as having learned how strong a woman can be after Wizarding Society shunned her. Hermione is going to swear, develop a loud voice, and not quietly pine after Ron Weasley as he verbally abuses her for seven years. The point of this fic is to give Hermione some healthier love interests, a bit later on in the road, but primarily to explore her embracing her true potential.