A/N: Chapter Thirty-Four!
Also, as much as I appreciate people telling me how much they want Nott to survive and for Hermione to find a 'cure' for him, this story is not a love story. Yes, there are romantic elements, but it's primarily about her journey. I'll remind you that she is single, as stated in the summary, when writing this memoir. Either way, there's plenty more to come. I hope you like this chapter! I had a lot of fun writing it.
The next morning, classes were back in session. I learned Professor Nott oversaw a small study group every Monday and Friday, with which Shen helped him, acting as a teacher's aid for the younger students. It was refreshing, knowing he was well liked amongst his students, and taken seriously all the same. I sat in with his first and second year lessons, watching with admiration as he assigned them a reasonable amount of homework, and treated them fairly and without bias — zero attention to house affiliation.
It was during his fourth year lesson that things took an interesting turn. I noticed several young women whispering to one another, giggling, blushing as he walked past, causing my bottom lip to twitch with laughter as I recalled what Astoria said. Nott, however, paid them no mind — as I knew he would — and before I knew it, the lesson was over and Headmistress McGonagall requested my presence in the Defense Against Dark Arts room.
I arrived around fifteen minutes after the memo, as several students stopped me in the corridor, asking for my — wait for it — autograph.
v weird.
Instead of declining, as I felt inclined to, I complied with their wishes and signed various rolls of parchment, along with a book bag or two. It was all very surreal, as I had never experienced anything of the sort outside of this experience. People in the real world had a plethora of preconceived notions about me and my friends, which led me to believe I wasn't well liked, but Hogwarts as different — as it had always been.
"Miss Granger," McGonagall smiled, welcoming me to the front of the classroom, which I noticed was filled with seventh year students.
I smiled at them, and moved to the front, where McGonagall stood, beside a wizard whom I didn't recognize — but did, in a strange way. He looked older than me — about fifteen or twenty years older (long, dark hair, towering height, an edge to him that simply screamed Slytherin) and with careful, narrow precision, he scanned me head to toe.
It was in that moment, that I remembered.
"Rabastan Lestrange," he introduced, holding his hand out and shaking mine with a little more force than was necessary. "Welcome to my classroom."
I tried not to react too harsh, as there were students in our presence, most of whom probably weren't aware that he was a reformed Death Eater. Instead, I tossed one look at McGonagall, catching the I'll explain later glint in her eyes. It appeared one thing hadn't changed since I graduated from Hogwarts, and that was the coveted role as teacher of Defense Against Dark Arts. I sensed Rabastan Lestrange considered me a threat, given my affiliation in the war and the fact that I was, in my own right, an accomplished Auror.
Even so, a couple students were beginning to sense some the friction between us, whispering things to one another.
McGonagall cleared her throat. "Miss Granger has agreed to a small question and answer session, as it's not every day we have an Auror in our presence."
I paused a moment, momentarily forgetting that I had agreed to those terms prior to my arrival, and then nodded with a concentrated smile. "Hello," I said to the eager students. "Come next year, I'm sure I'll see many of you at the Ministry."
Rabastan Lestrange reacted to this with an indiscernible look — one that reminded me of Lucius Malfoy.
The Headmistress stared between us, undoubtedly second guessing her decision to bring me to his classroom, before redirecting her attention to the students. "No silly questions, and please, show our guest some respect."
Around five minutes later, the question and answer session was in full swing. I sat at the front of the classroom, reminded of the moment I had been called up to the Sorting Hat in my first year, nervous as could be, only to land myself in the sea of best friends I had always imagined. McGonagall hovered around the students and mediated, whereas Lestrange hung back and kept quiet.
"My name is Sinead Finnegan," introduced a rather polite, well-spoken young lady, standing from her desk, dressed in Ravenclaw blue, funnily enough. I soon learned she was Seamus' much younger sister. " — and I was wondering, as a woman, do you experience any prejudiced behaviour from your male counterparts in the Auror Department?"
I blinked, surprised and impressed that she had touched on such an important issue, so soon. "Nothing, of which I am aware," I answered honestly. "Harry, head of the department, and Kingsley before him, maintains a safe, professional environment."
Sinead smiled, breaking her concentration for a moment, as a wave of hope passed through her. I made a mental note to remember her name and perhaps mentor her on my own time — not if, but when, she applied.
Next up, some cheeky Gryffindor and Hufflepuff gentlemen asked me about inter-department dating policies, to which I assured them, there were none.
"It's frowned upon, but there are no rules or regulations prohibiting one from doing so, so long as personal matters do not permeate into work life."
"Perhaps we should keep the original conversation afloat and stick to questions of relevance," McGonagall more than suggested, tossing those gentlemen a look that was filled with the utmost disapproval.
I couldn't help but smile at this, having missed her sternness.
"I have a question," someone else asked, standing from their seat. "Are we allowed to ask about the war?"
"Er —" McGonagall looked at me, uncertain.
I shrugged. "Sure."
"In that case, my name is Corvus Carrow," he announced: smart, sophisticated, and with a look about him that reminded of an early Tom Riddle. The Slytherin crest on this chest stood out above all else. I noticed a couple of the girls around him eyeing him, despite their best efforts not to, reminding me of another Slytherin. "Is is true that Potter rose from the dead, during the Battle of Hogwarts?"
"Erm —" I blanked, having expected something else, fighting memories of the battle in question, especially the moments in which we all thought Harry had died, defeated by his nemesis, only to come to back to us, stronger than ever. "Well — he — erm —"
"I'm asking, because, as we all know, he was a horcrux and had to die, in order to defeat the Dark Lord, but none of the history texts or interviews explicitly state or even suggest that he rose from the dead," Corvus furthered, earning a scowl from Sinead and a couple of Gryffindor students, along with another Ravenclaw, whom I had failed to notice until then.
I opened my mouth to answer, uncertain as to how I would do this without coming across as a crazy person, until someone else answered for me.
"It's commonly known amongst medical professionals in both the wizarding world, as well as the Muggle world, that one cannot simply be 'dead' unless all biological functions that sustain the living organism have been terminated — which, as most informed people know, means Harry Potter did not 'die' from the Killing Curse, as his last biological function, being his blood, was used to bring Tom Riddle to life in 1995, thereby tethering them and sustaining Harry's life, as he heroically took the curse, providing people like you, and me, and everyone in this room, as well as the rest of the world, with the chance to live and breathe, and remember his sacrifice another day," someone voiced, composed, despite the obvious passion behind his words. " — Sorry for the interruption, Hermione."
I turned to the source, and found Shen, seated somewhere in the back of the class, with countless young women, and even a couple young men, ogling at him; though he remained unaware, as he wiped the smirk from Carrow's face and watched as he sat back down with a noticeable scowl tugging at the Slytherin's lips.
"Well done, Mr. Chang," the Headmistress offered, exchanging an impressed look with me, and probably wondering why he addressed me using my given name.
One Hour Later
It was lunchtime, and I was, in the most unattractive sense, famished beyond words or comprehension. The rest of the question and answer session had carried on with no hurdles or hitches, much to Lestrange's disappointment and my own content — but the embarrassment of being stumped by a seventeen-year-old lad still twisted and turned in my stomach, as though I were a school girl all over again and Pansy Parkinson had, as per, humiliated me in front of the entire class.
I brushed those memories aside and made my way to the Great Hall, where Nott would be waiting, willing to hear what happened and provide me with some inside knowledge regarding his students.
But the moment I proceeded down the staircase, was the moment I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned and found Sinead.
"Oh — hello, Miss Finnegan," I greeted, giving her a polite smile as we proceeded down the staircase together. "Interesting Q&A back there."
She nodded, laughing a little. "Corvus Carrow is an absolute nightmare."
"Just give him some time. I'm sure he'll grow out of it." I advised her, thinking distantly of Draco. "Most do."
From there, we continued our walk to the Great Hall and started discussing various subjects and career options for Sinead. It was refreshing. I found I quite liked her, as she not only reminded me of myself, but also her brother. Despite their house division, she carried his same sense of humour, but with an unpredictable twist, as she had a certain elegance about her that he did not, making me think of Minerva McGonagall and how she had probably been during her time as a student.
Through various topics, we eventually landed on the single issue that plagued most teen minds.
"Which one?" I asked, catching the blush on Sinead's cheeks, as we approached the staff table, where a small group of prefects congregated with the heads of their houses to discuss duties for the week.
Sinead bit her bottom lip, thinking, but not speaking, not for another second. "Erm — no one. I just — I realized I missed the meeting. I'm Head Girl."
I flashed her an amused look, following her line of vision, expecting to find Shen or another well-adjusted young man, and instead landing on Corvus Carrow. For a moment, I was shocked — and then I wasn't.
"Just give him some time," I added again, smiling, thinking.
A/N: Some more familiar names. I'll explain the Lestrange thing in a future chapter. Tell me what you think!
Cheers
xo.