Chapter Fourteen: Old, Wizened, Misogynists.
Disclaimer: I own none of the material written by J. K. Rowling, or her publishing company, or HBO.
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Hermione raised her hand in Potions class for the first time in a rather long while. This seemingly innocuous act led to many events she might have preferred to avoid, but looking back she did not regret it. Only three weeks ago Snape had tried to get her in trouble, alongside Harry, Ronald, and her new friends, for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Defiantly she had demanded that they all interview the Ghosts in Hogwarts as witnesses to her whereabouts when the crime had been perpetrated. Since that time when Hermione stood up to the sallow Potion's Master before Dumbledore as well as all his colleagues there had been bad blood between them. Her insistence on being a student who handled her education with proactive seriousness seemed more than Snape could tolerate.
"Professor Snape," She called out as he had refused to acknowledge her raised hand for the prior five minutes. Daphne, her new partner in all of their shared classes, looked concerned at Hermione's bold action. No one ever dared to engage with Snape's vitriolic personality. For good reason. "No." Hermione hissed lowly at her friend as she kept her hand raised, "I am not going to tolerate this man's laziness. He chose this job and that entails answering questions." Eyes pointing straight forth again she watched as the Professor slowly turned around. "I read in Levinson's Composition that if one substitutes Flobberworm Mucus for Toad Membrane it halves the brewing time required for Sleeping Draughts and produces a far more powerful pr-."
"Granger," The man's face turned red as he swooped over to slam both of his hands on her work table. "You insipid, loathsome, know-it-all! I do not recall giving you permission to summon me like a lapdog from Mr. Malfoy's Potion." He stood back tall, slinking like a spider about to strike. "Furthermore, I will not have a silly, arrogant girl questioning the directions I have handwritten for this class. Especially when she is quoting a disgraced, discredited, unreliable Potioneer as her source of information." Those dark eyes narrowed towards her own unblinking, brown pair. "I know all about McGonagall moving you into her Advanced Transfiguration course. You will not get any similar treatment here. I am not one of the paparazzi kowtowing to lick your oversized britches. I can see you for what you are." He sneered, "An attention hungry chit whose already horrendous attitude has been spoilt with a rotten, nasty sense of entitlement. Twenty-five points from Gryffindor."
Hermione did not so much as twitch a muscle. Daphne's mouth hung open wide enough to accommodate a fist, or melon. All of the Slytherins snickered to one another. In her peripheries Hermione saw that the other Gryffindors were hardly surprised. While this was perhaps the most enraged Snape had ever been they were used to such ill-treatment. Well, she decided quite calmly, they were about to be quite shocked indeed. Today a Gryffindor would put Snape in his place. If it was the last thing she did. "Insipid?" She asked in a saccharine tone, cocking her head. He wanted arrogant? That was what he would get. "I am very interesting, actually. You would know that if you bothered to do anything other than smother me with your oppressive, immature attitude, Professor."
"What did you just say to me?" He hissed, whirling fully back around. Everyone was quiet now. "Dete-."
"With as much respect as I can possibly muster for your position at an esteemed institution of magical education, kindly shut the fuck up." Hermione snapped to loud gasps all round the chamber. "You have said your piece. Now the ball is squarely in my court." She picked up a knife and began chopping as her mind spoke all it had obediently held back the prior year-and-a-half. "First, Lise Levinson was an absolutely brilliant Potioneer. Her work was stolen from her by a Grindelwald supporting Wizard simply because he could. She is only scorned by snooty academics like yourself because how dare a Jewish, muggleborn woman lay claim to the products of her own intelligent, uncompromising mind." Hermione continued to chop skillfully. Snape stared at her with something akin to stupefied fascination.
"Next, you constantly belittle your students. This year only eight students advanced on to your NEWT level program. Why Dumbledore employs such a lackluster, inefficient Professor at his school is beyond me. How he has convinced the Board of Governors to agree that you," She sneered violently here, "Are in any way sufficient is quite simply a horrific representation of their judgement." Face going neutral she scraped the now-chopped material into her cauldron, picking up her stirring utensil. "Subconsciously you know that even Professor Dumbledore can only do so much to cover for your inexcusable degree of incompetence as an instructor. So, you cloister around Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson whose immediate male relatives both serve on the Board."
"Yes Draco. Pansy." Hermione did not dare pause, her speech was only allowed to continue so long as she cut hard and quick at Snape. Keeping the bastard as befuddled as possible. "Neither of you are actually special at all. Do you think a man-child with a bad attitude could ever care about either of you? No. You are about as special to him as a mudblood like me. Just pawns who are far too stupid to realize it. Nice and pliant for manipulation." Stirring quickly at first, then slowing as her heart grew ever more unburdened, Hermione stared at Snape again.
"Now. I am going to tell you one thing, unicornfucker." Hermione Granger stood to both feet, slamming her stirring rod onto the table causing a thunderous bang. "I pay too much money every term to have an indolent man verbally abuse me instead of teach. Do my questions annoy you? Great. It is called being an adult. You smile through the pain of working with children all day even though they annoy you. Either learn to correct your attitude in professional settings or try finding a job where you can be a pompous git." She smiled mockingly again, "Pro-tip, you will not. Your behavior is completely unacceptable. Just because I am a teenage girl does not mean I am incapable of calling you out on your antics. Now, I am going to leave. My Potion is perfect, I can guarantee it, and it only took me fifteen minutes to finish it as opposed to the hour you originally proposed."
She grabbed her satchel, "On second thought, given that there is a homicidal maniac attacking muggle borns in school Daphne will accompany me. Have a splendid day, Professor." Then, like a boss she slipped to the door surrounded by nothing but silence. Daphne trailed her friend all the way to the library. In a shocked silence they both walked. Claiming her favourite table, Hermione left her bag behind before slipping over to the archive of scholarly journals. Ranging from obscure to prominent, going back centuries with all of the consequent dust.
"Are we not going to discuss what you just did Hermione?" Daphne asked.
"No. There are better things to do than worry over that soul-sucking, sexist arse…" With a pleased grin Hermione withdrew a cracked pamphlet covering the origins of Summoning Charms, then a newer binder with Proposed Effects of Magic on Pressure on its spine.
"Like what?" Daphne still seemed so dazed that she simply grabbed the materials when Hermione passed them off to her.
"I have a research proposal to begin drafting. When I submit it to the British Council of Magical Advancements we shall become widely recognized as the two brightest witches Hogwarts has produced in generations." Hermione nodded at her friend's bewildered face. "I will need help. You, Luna, and Cedric will all be listed as my co-authors."
"What the flipping fuck is going on Hermione Granger?" Daphne finally cracked. Slamming the published documents down nearby.
"Daphne," Hermione grabbed her friend's shoulders, "I am done with Snape. We both know I am already able to brew well enough to scrape through my OWLs. I have made a marvelous discovery regarding a lost spell. One that can be repurposed to launch the Wizarding world into a new frontier. When you are not in Potions I will need you to help me. It is the only way I can keep up with everything else I have going on."
"What makes you think you can just stop attending Potions?" The Greengrass witch rebutted.
"Hogwarts apparently severely overdrew from it its finances last year, trying to dispel negative publicity Dumbledore created by slandering my name. My grandmother wrote me a letter stating that several of her new friends on the Board have promised one additional, new seat to whomever donates the most Galleons towards their now sizeable debt. She claims to have barely outbid a woman named Miribelle Dearborn."
"Hermione!" Daphne breathed out, "My grandfather already holds a seat, as does my Aunt Matilda Blishwick! Do you know what this means?"
"Hogwarts is a much safer place for us." Hermione stated plainly, "Now that means you can still associate with me without Snape retaliating. Which gives us the go-ahead to begin my ambitious little project." With that four new research binders were passed over to the blonde who rolled her blue eyes in response.
"Sometimes I think it was a waste you were not placed in Slytherin."
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Unsurprisingly, Hermione felt suddenly empowered. Despite the impending visit she would likely have to make to Dumbledore's office she woke feeling refreshed the next morning. After spending the night researching with Daphne, then Cedric and Luna as they finished with whatever they had going on, it was unanimously decided Hermione had made the biggest discovery in a decade. Within the realm of spellcasting, to be fair though. Nothing like what she found existed. Now came the hard part of planning out how to repurpose a spell as safely as possible. Hermione had anticipated Cedric's enrollment in Magical Runes and Arithmancy would be majorly helpful. What she never bet on was that Luna's mother was a renowned spell creator before her accidental death. Luna promised to return to Hogwarts after the holidays with the deceased woman's considerable library and accumulation of notes.
So, with all of these helpful omens she followed her typical, early morning routine. Stretching whilst passing through the halls of Hogwarts. Then upon hitting the outside air Hermione followed the same path as always. Running towards Hagrid's Hut, twisting towards the Quidditch Pitch, and then following the rest of the way to the Black Lake. It was always amazing to see how far she had come since first deciding to exercise that summer. Her baby fat peeling away sooner than it normally should have. Hermione could have even sworn she was growing far taller than she might have otherwise. Pausing at the same spot as always the witch moved to tie her hair back into a ponytail. Such a feat was incredibly difficult first thing in the morning without Sleakeazy, but the intensity of her running always flattened it.
That was when the girl noticed. Blood. Only drops along the beach, but as she nervously followed it clearly increased to a streaming stain. 'Take out your wand, girl,' The Silky Voice hissed, 'Do it now.' She did as bidden, angling around a large rock that students often sunbathed around in the warmer months. Wand pointed with the loose grip favoured by A Beginner's Guide to Battle Magic. What she found was, quite plainly horrific. Nearly a dozen roosters had been decapitated in some sort of horrific ritual. On the other side of the large boulder, scrawled in blood was another message. Though where the first had been ambiguously geared towards all muggleborns, this was terrifyingly specific to her. 'I Am Always Watching, Mudblood…'
'Turn around,' Her ever-present companion advised. Hermione shakily looked over her shoulder. In the rising daylight she had missed it, though now the translucent Ghost was entirely visible. 'Show no fear. Our enemy is clearly always lurking, and has memorized your schedule. Impressions are everything.' So Hermione remained as calm as possible while peering speculatively at the newest victim of Petrification.
Moaning Myrtle.
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"Did you see anything else, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked the girl who sat across from him. Still in her sweaty, disgusting running clothes.
"No. Professor Dumbledore," She snarked back, "Do you think I have any reason to omit the truth from you?" Standing supportively behind her chair was Hagrid. Hermione had come across the man whilst dashing back to the castle. He wasted no time escorting her to the Headmaster's Office. Dumbledore peered back at her with an expression that was as placid as ever.
"Hagrid, could you please leave us for the moment? Alert the Heads of Houses that I must speak with them immediately."
The half-Giant hesitated, "Professor, I saw 'ermione through me window this mornin'. She always runs 'at route. It can't 'ave been her. I'd 'ave noticed!"
"I assure you Hagrid, that you need not worry for Miss Granger." Dumbledore lied smoothly as water. "Please summon the Professors at once." Grumbling the whole while Hagrid left, but before doing so he patted reassuringly on Hermione's shoulder. She found that odd. He had avoided her since the term started. Perhaps seeing the pure fright in her eyes had startled the compassion back into his heart. "Now," The wizened man stared at her with a sudden firmness given that they were alone, "I find it incredibly suspicious that you have been at the scene of the crime two times when the Petrified have been discovered."
'He is a legilimens,' Silky Voice was shockingly lippy that morning. Hermione immediately lowered her eyes to Dumbledore's chin whilst doing her best to hide any shock from being exposed. Fuck her luck, she thought immediately, a psychopath leaving her bloody messages and now Dumbledore was a thought reader? How many times had they made eye contact since that summer? 'Speak my words. Tell him that you are being targeted by a Purist maniac. That his judgement in this unfortunate situation is being misplaced.' She said just that in her sweet tone, blocking any contact with his pupils. 'Splendid, I have extended new mental barriers to protect your secrets from any intrusion. Make eye contact before the codger grows the wiser that you know.'
"Be that as it may, Miss Granger," Dumbledore snapped, "I cannot be certain of your status as a 'victim.' You have displayed a grand degree of intelligence beyond your years. Given your advancement into a much higher level of Transfiguration and now Potions it is not possible to rule out if you are entirely incapable of performing a Petrification." They locked eyes again and he blinked in sudden surprise before continuing as if there were nothing wrong.
"Are you accusing me of performing the Dark Arts, Professor?" Hermione asked with sudden incredulity. The audacity! Especially when she had only been deciphering Dark Magic. Far from using it...
"Professor Snape approached me yesterday evening. He informed me of how hysterical, and dare-I-say, unhinged, you were during his Potion's lesson that day." Blue eyes twinkled merrily her way as he pounced. "Practitioners of the Dark Arts are not known for their mental stability."
"Did you just call me hysterical?" Hermione asked suddenly.
"That is beside the point Miss-." Dumbledore was cut off soundly.
"Oh, no. I found it to be the point entirely. You are a relic from the Nineteenth Century. Perhaps it was alright to call a woman 'hysterical' then but it simply is not now." She was blazing. "If you truly think it fair to criticize my behavior then I will criticize yours in turn. You are seriously senile if you believe I am a priority when all of the muggle borns in Hogwarts are being targeted."
"They are safe, I can assure you, Miss Granger. Though we were discussing your behavior yesterda-."
"No. We were discussing that I, as a muggleborn witch, do not feel safe in the slightest. Perhaps that fear of being targeted by an anonymous Slytherin who is brandishing Petrification like a sword is what put me on edge. Set aside your misplaced concern for Professor Snape's wounded pride, and discuss with me what you will do to protect students like myself. Especially given that the Heir of Slytherin has already successfully attacked Colin Creevey, Mrs. Norris, and now Moaning Myrtle."
"If you feel so unsafe, Miss Granger, why do you not leave the school?" He responded warily. As though his 'hysterical' pupil might reach across the desk and murder him with her feminine hygiene products.
"Why should I have to leave Hogwarts because you refuse to do your job, sir? How does that make any sense?" Her voice was sharp as steel. "If muggleborns are asked to leave then Purebloods and Half-bloods should be forced to do the same. To only ask one group of people to abandon their magical educations is tantamount to giving Salazar Slytherin what he wanted in the first place. If that is your best resolution to my concerns then I advise you shut the entire school down." So much for the defender of the oppressed masses, Hermione thought snarkily. 'Why not take up the title yourself?' Asked the Silky Voice. Hermione could not consider such an absurd idea at that moment.
"That is a gross oversimplification of my efforts, Miss Granger." Dumbledore responded in an icy tone. The vestiges of grandfatherly merriment completely abandoned.
"I wonder if the Daily Prophet would see it that way. Or the Board of Governors." She purposefully laced her tone with a knowingness. As though there was a delicious secret he was not privy to. "My grandmother has been awarded the newly created position on the Board. They are planning to announce it at the end of this month. With a muggleborn granddaughter I am certain that she will find your efforts lacking." Hermione crossed both arms elegantly. Dumbledore steepled all ten fingers beneath his beard. Now all of the cards were on the table. He did not need to be told of the Granger's new connections with the Greengrasses. That was three votes right there. If they temporarily partnered with Lucius Malfoy, Dumbledore would be gone by the time Cordelia sat her arse in her pretty, new position. Hermione could not be falsely accused of opening the Chamber or expelled.
"What do you want, child." Dumbledore finally snapped. "I tire of your incessant insinuations."
"Are you attempting to bribe a student?" Her tone was nothing short of cordial.
He leaned forth in response to glare. "You refuse to leave, and have just threatened my position at this institution. What do I need to give you to keep your berserk grandmother in line?"
"She is her own person, so I cannot rightly pretend to answer that, Dumbledore," Hermione answered with effortless bossiness. She stood. "Clearly you cannot expel me without extreme harm being inflicted to your reputation. I simply see nothing that can be done on your behalf to ameliorate this mess you have created. The time for civility, bargaining, and pleading is past. Contact my grandmother to see if she has a different perspective. Make your shady dealings with another adult. I am a child, and have other things to worry over."
"On that note, Miss Granger," The Headmaster launched his final missive quickly, "I fully expect you to visit Professor Snape before dinner this evening. We spoke, and discussed the situation yesterday." That voice grew more steely than she could recall it ever having been before. "Your grandmother's sudden position of prominence does not give you free reign to skip classes you deem yourself overqualified for." They both stared at one another a final time. Brown clashing with blue, prior to the connection being broken with a jerky nod.
As Hermione left the office Dumbledore stared at her back impassively. Wondering perhaps, if he should have gone for the more capable, unorthodox option against Voldemort, or have remained in favour of the more controllable, Prophetic pawn.
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Sighing with a bit of relief Hermione left her Art Club that very afternoon feeling quite relieved. No expulsion and she would be able to ditch Potions for at least a month to focus on research instead, or until Dumbledore figured out his rebuttal she supposed. Stopping by the Gryffindor Common Room she changed in her dormitory. Not bothering to glance in the mirror given that the occasion was just a standard fixture in her schedule. Satchel slung over her shoulder full of research materials and homework for later Hermione promptly flung herself behind curtains upon reaching the Common Room again. Having just entered the empty space Ron and Harry were deeply immersed in a serious conversation. She hated their suspicious glances, so hiding had been the best plan of recourse. "It has to be Malfoy," Harry muttered, "I just know he is the Heir to Slytherin."
Hermione wanted to chuckle at their stupid habit of pinning crimes perpetrated in Hogwarts on those they disliked. Of course, she had been guilty of the same exact thing only a few days after Halloween. Confiding in Daphne her suspicions only to be told that Malfoy was in no way descended from Slytherin. The Greengrass girl had pulled out an old, massive book of magical lineages and proven resoundingly that no students currently in Slytherin could claim such a thing either. That particular bloodline had died out decades prior, apparently. Meaning that Malfoy was just an entitled incest baby, and Hogwarts was being haunted by a muggleborn-hating ghost. "Did you hear that Hermione was almost attacked?" Ron asked in response.
"Yes," Harry answered back curtly, "But it is strange that she was at two scenes. First Mrs. Norris, and now Moaning Myrtle? I just can't imagine she would sink so low though. Saying all of those horrible things about Professor Dumbledore was one thing, though I can't see her hurting other muggleborns."
"She is friends with Daphne Greengrass now, Harry. Not us. Hermione made her choice this summer, and we have to realize our friend is gone for good." Ron's voice was suddenly vicious. "Besides. My mum said that those Morrigans stirred up loads of trouble back in Ireland a few decades ago. Ministry kept it quiet, and my grandpa Prewett only knew because he was Head of the DMAC. Wrong sort, if you know what I mean. Not to mention the Pyrites. For all we know Hermione could have had Slytherin blood this whole t-."
Their voices drifted away up the stairs as Hermione angrily stormed out of the Common Room. The insufferable prats were slandering her about Hogwarts after all she had done for them the prior year? Hissing to herself she stormed through the castle until reaching her destination. Stopping outside for a moment to breathe. Beneath the simmering anger was a much smaller slice of gratitude to Ron for being such a loud sod. If the Ministry had sealed whatever blood feud shenanigans occurred with the Morrigans then it made sense why she had found nothing Hogwarts' archives. The Daily Prophet could have been barred from reporting on it all. Feeling refocused Hermione Granger-Pyrites slipped into the abandoned classroom.
"Splendid day we are having, Hermione," The ghost smiled, "No?" He floated before the window. Glimmering with resplendency in the dying light of the winter day.
Setting her bag off to the side she withdrew her wand. "Of course, Byron." She paused to utter a few spells. The desks clearing to either side of the room while a gramophone in the back crackled alive with classical recordings. Exchanging her trainers for a pair of heels contained within her bag Hermione wasted no time getting the gruelling lesson over. Ignoring the pain of her blisters they practiced dancing together. Then the second hour was spent with her very sweaty self learning to play an ancient harpsichord as well as embarrassing attempts, on her part, at opera. They rounded it out with something a tad bit unorthodox for their meetings. Usually Byron would test her for talents. Flower arranging, poetry writing, sewing, and a myriad of other ventures that seemed quite sexist in Hermione's book. Opera had been explored in their prior meeting. The Ghost ardently defended himself in saying that she possessed unexplored talent for performance.
Now, however, it seemed he had an entirely different set of goals in mind to occupy that last hour's exploratory nature. Stacked before Hermione on the table were ancient books on Wizarding Law. Some even dating to the Twelfth Century and, according to Byron, chock full of still-applicable laws. It truly sickened the girl to see that the Wizarding World was so visibly decrepit and ancient. "You are an heiress to the Pyrites' holdings. Whatever the Morrigans have left too, come to think of it," Her new instructor articulated with his impish charm. "In my time that would have meant any available male cousins would have taken charge to act in your best interests."
A repulsed scoff ripped its way from Hermione's throat at that. "Yes, yes," Byron dismissed her scorn, "But that precedent has changed after Artemisia Lufkin reformed inheritance laws to produce equality between wizards and witches." He stared at his student with an odd expression. If Hermione were to guess she supposed it was akin to wonderment. Though why a random Ghost would feel such a thing for a random muggleborn was beyond her reasoning. "You are incredibly intelligent. With a knack for the feminine matters expected of witches, no matter how much you detest them. Pretty enough, charismatic if you try, and sharp of wit. I have grown to expect more from you, Hermione."
"In what way?" She finally voiced.
"You are as good as any wizard. I daresay you could become quite habile in the old ways given enough tutelage." He beckoned to the books, "So I had a House Elf bring these materials here. You will learn Wizarding Law. Not only those of Britain, but decrees imposed by the International Confederation of Wizards as well. We will also begin to cover gentlemanly affairs so you will find less difficulty in navigating such male-dominated governing bodies." A soft pause followed, "I will have you remember one thing always going forth. Never forget your muggleborn ideology. It is what will set you apart from everyone else. Learn their societal rules, how to engage with prominent, nepotistic Wizards from all across the world. Yet use that advanced, clever mind of yours to remain several centuries ahead of them in this archaic game of politics."
You are incredibly open-minded, shockingly so for claiming to have died in the 1880's." Hermione remarked in her bossy way.
"I am painfully aware." Byron smiled archly, "My liberal attitude did lead to this arrow penetrating my midsection."
Hermione stared at the stacks of old books. "Do you really believe I can do it? Everything I have noticed that is wrong, or outdated in the Wizarding World. You think I will one day be able to change it all?"
"Yes." Byron answered firmly. Not a trace of playfulness in his voice. With that they descended into her first lesson regarding Wizarding Law, and a grand scale view of politics Cordelia had never introduced Hermione to.
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