Jackson's Last Stand

Hermione entered the Room of Requirements and was surprised to find Aberforth already there, sitting calmly in a chair waiting for her.

"Good evening, Miss. Granger," came his cheerful greeting.

She smiled, "Good evening Aberforth," she gave him a rueful look, "Am I in trouble?"

His smile brightened, "Not at all my child, not at all," he waved his hands around the room, "I assume you're curious as to why the room is dressed differently that our normal sessions?"

She looked around and saw it was set-up precisely how Harry had it set-up when he was teaching the DA members.

She looked back to him with a half-teasing expression, "Now that you mention it," she replied curiously.

He stood up and moved towards her, "I was inspired by a mutual friend of ours, who spoke to me concerning your health and your sessions," he held up a hand to stop her from speaking, "This long, blonde-haired friend made it very clear to me what my future would look like if you were allowed to have another episode like you had a few days ago."

He harrumphed and then quickly added, "And considering the options I was presented with I was left naturally agreeing to avoid a repeat of our last session."

Hermione's mouth quirk upwards at just what options Luna might have threatened him with.

He walked a bit in front of her while he spoke, "As such, I was forced to conclude that since you have knowledge of a form of magic, and were not afraid to use it, that we should take the time to learn it correctly and safely," he stopped and looked at her with a serious expression, "Which means, to help you, I need to see the journal."

Hermione's smile faded. Luna had told him about the journal? Hermione felt a stab of anger at the other woman for telling someone else after the three promised not to let it go farther than themselves. Then as quickly as her anger flared up, it disappeared when she realized that if anyone could help her it would be Aberforth. After all he knew more about rare forms of magic than anyone, mostly because of his brother.

Aberforth was of the same thought. Luna had mentioned to him what she knew about the journal when she also presented him with some rather unpleasant consequences should Hermione end up in the infirmary again from using that magic. While he had no doubt of the blonde-haired witch's sincere convictions to keep her friend safe, he knew that only by confronting the larger issue of what the magic is, would allow Hermione to possibly understand it and use it safely. However, unlike his brother, he was not willing to go blindly go into this without a better understanding of it himself.

He watched the emotions and the consideration going through her head before she finally nodded at his logic.

"You're right," she said at last, "Dobby!"

A sharp crack announced the house elf.

"Will you please get me m…," she stopped as she looked down at him.

He gave her an embarrassed smile and chuckle. He held out his hand, which she took the journal from, "Right. Brilliant. Thank you Dobby."

She watched the embarrassed house elf disappear and looked at Aberforth dumbfounded.

"Do not be angry with the elf," Aberforth said with a slight chagrined smile, "I asked him to bring it when you called for it. He wouldn't give it to me any other way."

Hermione handed him the journal, "Dobby's very loyal to me. He wouldn't give it to anyone without my say so."

Aberforth gently took the journal from her and only grunted to her comments about Dobby. He opened the journal and began reading. Hermione waited patiently as he read through the first several pages before looking up from it.

"A very curious object," he said in quiet amazement, "And on first glance, nothing to be concerned about. However," his voice became grave, "There are things in here that I have only ever seen when Albus was with Gellert Grindelwald, and preparing their perfect wizard society."

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise, "Professor Dumbledore knew this magic? Did he use it?"

Aberforth again shrugged, "I can only say for certain that my brother knew of this magic. I cannot say for certain if he was a practitioner," he paused, "I would only surmise that he had not considered the fact that such magic might have defeated Voldemort with relative ease. I would also add that it was a good thing Voldemort never found this."

Hermione nodded in agreement. It made sense what he said. After all, if the shield spell she used was that powerful with magic like her, then imagine what Albus Dumbledore, or Voldemort even, would have generated. A shield spell that could have stopped multiple spells. Include the rest of the spells in the journal and someone like Dumbledore would have been unstoppable.

"But before we can safely proceed I need to know everything you have found to date," he said.

Hermione gave him a brief nod and spent a while telling him everything. From when she found the journal in the bookshop in Hogsmeade, to the book by Bode, to wandless magic, and how she believed the journal described the original wandless magical spells. Aberforth just sat and listened to her explain her findings, occasionally asking a clarifying question or nodding. After she was finished he sat back and was silent for several minutes.

Aberforth tapped the pages lightly, "This magic goes back many, many centuries," he looked at the pages and flipped through it, "I cannot be certain when. Albus would be able to I'm sure," he trailed off.

Hermione decided to bring the topic back to her and the magic, "Do you think I can use this magic?"

Aberforth paused to consider his answer. He shrugged and sighed at the same time, "I'm not sure. It is possible, if we take your recent demonstration into account," his voice turned grave, "But to what degree and what will happen to you… I do not know."

Hermione thought hard about what he said. She still felt a little off from the other day. She was not interested in a repeat performance, but she knew that whatever Snape had planned she might need an edge over him.

"Teach me."

Her voice brooked no argument, but he looked at her with a solemn expression, "You understand the risks?"

Her face became a study in determination, "Yes."

"You also understand that we are both hardly experts in this realm of magic?"

She nodded again, "I understand. I want to learn."

He nodded, but Hermione caught the slight flicker of a smile on his lips, "Very well."

He walked over to a side table and he knew that she had finally climbed out of the hole she had fallen into all those years ago. She was alive, full of purpose, and more of the young woman she was before That Day. Now he knew that whatever happened, she would not be going back to the way she was. Woe to whoever got into her way.

He placed the journal down on the side table, "Now before we begin, we must do two things," he said, turning to her, "We must first understand the magic that is contained within these pages and second, we must build up your magical core."

She nodded, and with one graceful motion put her long hair up into an effortless messy bun, "Understood."

He smiled at his determined student, "Then let us begin."

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A couple of weeks later Hermione was surprised at her progress. She was able to call forth the shield, holding it longer and longer each time. Aberforth had started her on centering her mind and calming her breathing so she could learn to focus her magical energy better. Since neither one wanted a repeat of her first performance with this old magic, she took his advice seriously and to heart.

They also spent time reading and understanding the journal, with the help of the book she took from the Black library. Hermione was surprised when one day he produced an old book that had information similar to the journal. Hermione was both interested and saddened when she saw Dumbledore's own handwritten notes in it. They managed to solve the mystery of what the old magic was called. In old wizarding speech, it was called Maninais Industrium, roughly translating into empty hand magic. However, the author of the journal was still a mystery.

"So what's written in the journal is early wandless magic?" Hermione said one evening, as they were preparing to start practice.

Aberforth put down the book from the Black library and brought a chair over to the center of the room, "Indeed it is. Based on the research and the few notes I found from my brother's collection, this old magic was discovered during the time when the wizarding world was not as sophisticated and astute enough to try and be more," he paused searching for the right word before settling on, "subtle about their magic."

Hermione's face twisted in confusion, "Wouldn't using wandless magic cause even more panic and fear from non-magic folk? Especially considering its volatile nature?"

He nodded again, "Of course it would. As you well know, even in today's modern world, magic is still feared."

She put her wand in her back pocket and kneeled on the ground, "But I thought wandless magic was more powerful and harder to control. That's why we started using wands."

He shrugged, "Unfortunately, the reasons behind that have been interpreted and re-written so many times in our history that the real truth is indeed lost."

"Aberforth," she regarded him with a look of curiosity, "Elves and goblins have no problems using wandless magic. And I'm fairly certain they don't have episodes like the one I had a couple of weeks ago."

He held a finger to stop her, "Ahhh… there we get into interspecies biology and their magical capability," he sat down in a chair across from her, "We are not talking apples to apples there, Hermione. If they could or wanted to use wands then they could, like us, channel their energy through them. However, they are created differently and they can take and expend the raw magical energy that would be extremely difficult for a wizard, except those of a very rare magical ability."

She pushed her sleeves of her hoodie up her arms, nodding in understanding. He saw a flash of frustration across her features.

"Do not feel frustrated, Hermione," he said in a comforting tone, "Witches and wizards who can perform wandless magic have roughly the same magical capabilities that elves or goblins do. That's what separates a witch like you from a wizard like me," he finished pointing at himself, "I have a certain amount of power, but you have loads more and the ability to understand it's complexities to use it with relative safety."

He pointed at her, "And I have no doubts in this world that that brilliant mind of yours was built for understanding and channeling that energy without your wand. You just need practice and belief in yourself that you can control it."

He smiled at her and continued, "And in this short time you have been able to conjure the shield and maintain its form for minutes at a time with powerful spells testing its stability. You have also been able to conjure other spells with little trouble and not drained your magic significantly. I predict that you are nearly to the point of understanding and controlling it completely."

He sat back in his chair and slapped his knees, "Now, to continue with that thought. Let us begin."

She closed her eyes, beginning to calm her mind and body.

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It was the end of a very long week. Hermione was looking forward to the weekend and wishing for the luxury of sleeping in. Since Luna and Valdore's relationship had kicked into high gear, they were spending more time together, which let Hermione focus herself on training and studying. But before anything could happen, she needed to finish this lesson and gain her temporary freedom.

Hermione looked up from her desk to the sea of students. She put her quill down and stood, "Alright class. As you have just read, the solutions to the example can be varied, however, you need be specific with your criteria to hone in on the correct solution."

She saw a few nods from the students. She picked up her notes when a hand raised. She looked at the hand's owner and smiled, "Yes, Miss. Hartwell?"

"I was wondering Professor," she suddenly became nervous, "Has arithmancy helped you in your life?"

Hermione thought for a moment before replying, "I know it has. It's not an everyday skill I use, but it does come in handy when I need to try and work through a particular problem or try to understand what's to come."

A snort came from the other side of the room. Hermione turned to the sound, "Mr. Mitchell? You wish to add your editorial to my comment?"

The boy sneered, which seemed to be his only kind of smile, "No, Professor. Just wondering why arithmancy didn't tell you that all of this would happen."

Hermione became instantly annoyed with his question, but kept her voice neutral, "It did not give specifics Mr. Mitchell. I only knew that somethings would happen."

He sat back and sighed, "Sounds like this subject doesn't really give the detailed insights you need then."

Her eyes narrowed. She knew he was pressing her buttons, but she would have none of it, "As impertinent as you're being right now, you do have a point. While this subject can be a precise and almost scientific method of predicting the future, it is not infallible."

"Or even close," he muttered.

Hermione opened her mouth but Chandra beat her to it, "You're a jerk, you know that Jackson?"

The boy turned on her, "Oh defending the teacher now you kiss ass? You're already her favorite, I don't think you need any more house points."

Hermione inhaled, but again Chandra beat her to the punch, "Why did I ever find you attractive with an attitude like yours," she paused and speared him with an angry glare, "You're such a gigantic centaurs arse."

The insult didn't seem to faze him, "Oooooo… what a witty comeback. And you were so desperate for my attention it was almost too easy for me to get you."

Dead silence fell upon the room. Hermione felt her anger rise as she saw Chandra's face lose all color.

"Mr. Mitchell. Detention. A whole week's worth."

He looked sharply at her, "I didn't start it!" he shouted.

"Oh yes you did," Hermione's voice lowered to a dark and dangerous tone, "In fact, I've had it with people like you Mr. Mitchell," she turned back to her students, "Class, has anyone aside from Miss. Hartwell ever heard of the Malfoy's?"

A few arms raised up and she nodded, "Well for those you have not, the Malfoy's were a wealthy and powerful wizarding family during the time of Voldemort," a couple of gasped were heard when she said his name, "And there is one particular Malfoy I am thinking of right now. That boy's name was Draco."

She looked at Jackson, "He was as rude, crass, cruel, and felt that everyone owed him anything just because of his family money, connections and superiority as a pureblood wizarding family," she looked at Jackson, "Sound like someone we know?"

Jackson's face turned bright red in embarrassment and anger, "The Malfoy's were a great and noble wizarding family!"

"No, Mr. Mitchell," Hermione shook her head, "No, they weren't. They were followers of the dark arts and the Death Eaters. They made their fortune off the cruelty and ruthlessness to others. And in the end, they suffered for it."

She looked at the class, "They were brought down by witches and wizards who were fighting against Voldemort and who were also sick of what the Malfoys stood for," she paused, "In fact, Draco wasted his life for that cause."

"What happened to them, Professor?" a sixth year boy asked.

"Lucius and his wife are imprisoned in Azkaban for the rest of their lives because of their actions. And based on the students in this room reaction to hearing their name, quite forgotten to history. Even as important as you think they were, Mr. Mitchell," she looked at Jackson, "Draco was killed before his seventieth birthday by Harry Potter while defending an artifact for Voldemort."

"Harry Potter murdered him," Jackson erupted and addressed the class trying to win any support from his classmates, "They were my father's cousins and are far more important to the wizarding world than any filthy mudblood like yourself!"

A flash of purple light filled the room and Jackson was thrown violently back against the back wall where several loud snaps were heard coming from various places on his body. Several students screamed in shock and fright. They turned back and saw Hermione's hand raised, finger's outstretched, towards Jackson and her face was full of fury.

"How dare you call me that," she hissed, her eyes almost glowing with rage.

Jackson's face was filled will fear and terror at what she was doing. He was powerless. She held him to the wall with magic he couldn't even begin to understand. He started to get even more afraid as she walked slowly towards him. He was sure that he wasn't going to have a chance to tell his father what happened so he could get her arrested. Although, with power like this and no wand he was also just as certain there was nothing that his family could do to stop her.

Her hand was still raised, holding him against the wall, "Class, to call someone a mudblood is an insult and derogatory. And pureblood witches and wizards like Draco or Lucius Malfoy reveled in its use to show their apparent superiority."

She stopped in front of the boy and regarded him coldly, "Also, Harry Potter never murdered anyone. Not even Draco Malfoy."

She pierced him with her glare, "Your parents didn't tell you how Draco died did they? I bet they aggrandized his death to make him seem heroic and brave," she paused, her gaze still boring into him, "He was crushed to death by a door because he wasn't paying attention to what was happening around him. Harry and I had him and his father pinned down while the Ministry was attempting to arrest them for their crimes. He was trying to retrieve a dark magical object that belonged to Voldemort."

She took a breath remembering the sight of Draco mangled body, "He died a sniveling little ferret. Too stupid to understand that everything he believed was built on lies and deceit," she again turned her attention back to her students, "Class, Voldemort was a half-blood wizard and hid that fact like a vault protects gold in Gringotts. But he sold most purebloods on the fact he was one. They were all too witless to learn the truth and many paid for it with their lives."

She regarded him with a reflective look before continuing, "Now tell the class Mr. Mitchell, what happened to all those pureblood wizarding families and what your family did during the war."

His eyes widened with realization of what she was about to reveal. The information would ruin his and his family's reputation. No matter what happened after she said it, he knew he would not be able to refute her comments. Everyone will know and they would spread the word like wild fire.

She smiled seeing his comprehension of what was to come, "No? Well I'll tell them," she turned to the class, "You can all find this information out with general inquires to the Ministry. Although his family has taken great pains, and galleons, to hide this info. All those families that he so cherishes, and whom gave his family their fortunes, were either killed or sent to Azkaban during the war. Jackson's family stayed neutral during the Second Wizarding War to play both sides, hedge their bets and side with the winner when it was over."

She started walking back to the front of the class and muttered, "Cowards," before releasing the spell.

Jackson gave a slight squeak of shock before his body hit the floor hard and he groaned in pain. No one moved. Hermione stood behind her desk and looked out at the class.

"Mr. Gregson, will you please take Mr. Mitchell to the infirmary? The rest of you are free to go."

As when Jackson and Hermione squared off previously, the response to exit the room was immediate and swift. Gregson had to wait until the room was empty before he could levitate Jackson. However, not before a few students "accidently" stepped on the injured boy as they left.

After the room was empty, Hermione sat down heavily in her chair and sighed heavily. This for sure would get her sacked, if not arrested. Attacking a student was a shock, even to her. It was so out of character for her. She knew she shouldn't have done it and was immediately remorseful for it. Jackson had pushed her to the breaking point and the boy paid for it, but Hermione was supposed to be the adult. She should have known better.

She gathered her stuff and headed to her room to pack before seeing McGonagall.