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~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hermione gasped loudly, and Snape's head snapped up to see what had surprised her. His eyes widened when he realized that she was staring directly at him. His mouth dropped open in amazement, but his mouth then hardened into a thin line.
"Granger," he snapped.
"Professor," she whispered, her heart fluttering wildly in her throat.
"I hope you're enjoying the show," he said. "You never could look away, even when it was in your best interests to do so. Congratulations, you've found Molly Weasley's performing monkey. If you come by later in the day, perhaps I'll have cymbals to crash together."
"I don't understand—" began Hermione.
"You never did," he spat. "What's your angle this time, Granger? The Society for the Protection of Snape's Welfare? Going to make things a thousand times worse for me than they were before you interfered? Oh, apologies, you've already done that."
His harsh words inflamed her righteous indignation, and she promptly forgot the importance of what she'd just discovered. "I hadn't realized that you fancied a stretch in Azkaban. I'd be happy to recant my testimony if that's the case."
Snape's mouth twisted into a sneer. "Did you never stop to think, Granger, about what might happen to me if you and your little friends convinced the Wizengamot not to pursue criminal charges against me?'
"I haven't the slightest idea what you—"
"Of course you haven't!" Snape was on his feet now, his face murderous. "You stayed just long enough to ease your guilty consciences — felt a bit of a twinge for leaving me to die, I expect — and just as you did then, you left me. You called me a hero and left me to the tender mercies of a world that never saw me tried, who never heard any reason that I should be freed! Is it any wonder that I cannot walk down Diagon Alley without being accosted? That Aurors have dogged my every step?"
Hermione felt as if she'd been hit with a Bludger. "But you're here," she said weakly. "You're teaching."
He seemed to deflate then and fixed her in a pitying stare. "The famed brain of Gryffindor," he said, sitting heavily his chair. "The mighty are fallen, indeed." Without another word, he bent deliberately over his plate and went back to eating.
Hermione wasn't sure whether to be offended or relieved. Her mind was spinning. Though the Wizengamot had declined to bring murder or treason charges against Snape, largely because of her, Harry's and Ron's testimony, as well as the memories he'd surrendered before his ersatz demise, the Wizarding World was less than forgiving when a Prophet exclusive revealed that he was alive and living in the outskirts of Birmingham. Twice, the undisclosed location of his dwelling had been leaked to the public. The first time, his home had been vandalized and most of its furnishings destroyed. The second time, it had been burned to the ground.
They had tried to speak on his behalf then, but Snape would have none of it. They'd heard nothing of him or his whereabouts since. And now, Snape had returned to Hogwarts. But how? And why?
There was nothing for it. If she was to find out anything, she'd have to talk to him. She slipped the Mag-Spec back into its case and tentatively approached the high table, where he sat, pointedly ignoring her.
"So, how long have you been waiting to tell me off?" she asked conversationally, pulling up a chair near, but not next to him.
"Since you were eleven," he said, still not looking at her.
"It was very effective."
"Do not patronize me, Granger."
"All right, then. What on earth are you doing here?"
"Teaching. Granger, eating breakfast is a necessity. Your inane questions are not. Clear off."
"I would that I could. I'm here on the headmistress's orders."
He scowled. "While I shall never underestimate that woman's capacity for sucking all pleasure out of life, foisting you upon me is far too creative a punishment for her to have conceived."
Hermione took a deep breath. "I don't think she was expecting me to be aware of your presence."
Snape went very still. "Your melodramatic pause indicates that you expect me to believe that you have discovered me of your own accord."
"In this case, I believe the headmistress's lack of imagination has worked to both of our advantages."
He snorted. "That's rather an optimistic assessment."
"Is it? Are you happy here?"
"I should think that you've seen enough of my memories to understand the absurdity of that question."
"Well, when you had a choice, you kept to yourself."
"I am keeping to myself. The Fidelius Charm ensures that nobody is aware of my presence except for the headmistress and the Secret Keeper. No one speaks to me, no one sees me, and no one hears me."
"I should think that would make teaching rather difficult," said Hermione.
"Teaching under the Fidelius requires remarkably few adjustments. It's not as if Potions students bothered listening to me, even when my presence wasn't magically obscured."
Hermione frowned. "Why go through the bother of hiding you?"
"What, finding it hard to believe that someone else had my welfare in mind?"
"Yes," said Hermione baldly.
That surprised a snort out of Snape. He gave her an appraising look. "I was a cost-cutting measure, just as all the current teachers are. I wasn't inexperienced, foolish, or part of the Weasley clan, so Molly begged me to return to teaching when Horace disappeared for good. She came to me distraught and desperate, willing to consider anything so that the school might remain open. She assured me that that I'd be released as soon as she found a suitable replacement for me, that it would only be for a short time, and that she had a foolproof plan to keep my appointment out of the papers."
"How long have you been here?"
"Eight interminable years," he said. "One would think that I would have learnt my lesson the last time I made an Unbreakable Vow to a tearful woman."
Hermione let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "This is all really quite—"
"If the word 'fascinating' escapes your lips, Granger, I cannot be held responsible for what blunt-edged cutlery may become embedded in your person."
"I was going to say 'absurd.' You do realize we're both in the same boat, don't you."
"Sadly, real justice is not nearly so poetic. Molly intimated to the staff that Hogwarts is supporting your research for a year. After your year of service to Her Weasliness, you shall return to your sinecure in the Department of Mysteries, whilst I will remain here in indefinite servitude. I hope you will pardon my skepticism that your experience gives you the slightest insight into mine."
Hermione bit back a retort. He was right. And from the smug look he was giving her, he knew it.
"I don't blame her entirely," he said, taking a sip of tea. "I'd have done the same in her place. She merely took advantage of the situation you created."
Hermione regarded him in silent scrutiny for a moment. "Bollocks," she said at last.
Snape scowled at her. "I beg your pardon."
"You're here for exactly the same reason I'm here — we ignored and later underestimated Molly Weasley. And since, as you pointed out, you're neither inexperienced nor a fool, you understand that simply by discovering your presence, I can help you. And given my past, you know I'd help you even without being coerced. I believe that attempting to make me feel guilty for your predicament serves another purpose entirely."
"Analysis from a Gryffindor. I must hear this," he said, looking up from his plate at last and regarding her with a goading smirk.
She returned his smirk. "You want to know how I broke the Fidelius."
"I've seen no evidence that you've broken it at all," he said in a bored tone. "It's far more likely that you were told by Molly the Terrible or that useless tit of a Secret Keeper."
"If that were so, I'd have seen you the moment I entered the Great Hall," she said. "And I certainly wouldn't have begun doing top-secret experiments in front of you, if that were the case."
"It might have been an act," he challenged.
"I can't act for toffee," she pointed out.
"Though I admit that the possibility is remote, you might have learned a thing or two in the decades since we last met."
"Damn it all!" exclaimed Hermione. "Why would I make this up?" She paused, glaring at him. "You're doing this on purpose," she said at last. "Why?"
"You may have forgot, but I'm not at all motivated to make things easier for you. By all means, make it clear to me why I should involve myself with you, whose misguided philanthropy forced me into obscurity, against La Weasley, whose misguided philanthropy has simply made that obscurity more impenetrable? At least she ensures that I receive three meals each day."
Hermione glanced at his plate, and was struck with an idea. "You don't take pepper on your eggs?" she asked. "Oh, that's right, the headmistress is rationing exotic spices. She briefed me on her cost-cutting measures last night. Barbra?"
The House Elf cracked into existence. "Yes, miss?"
"Would you be so kind as to prepare me some eggs. And I'd be most obliged if you could serve them with a bit of the pancetta that Fleur left in my room."
The House Elf bowed and vanished. A moment later, two fried eggs with several slices of sizzling, pepper-crusted pancetta appeared in front of her. The savory smell made her mouth water, and she could only imagine what it was doing to Snape.
He scowled at her. "It won't work."
"What won't?" she asked, taking a dainty bite of the pancetta.
"You cannot tempt me to your side with mere foodstuffs."
"You're already on my side. I don't need to tempt you," said Hermione.
Snape moistened his lips with a quick dart of his tongue. "Then what twisted part of your nature allows you to feast in front of a starving man?"
"Oh, I imagine it's somewhat like the twisted part of a teacher that made him insult a teenager's teeth," she said.
"Hit a nerve, did I?" His tone was gratified.
She took another bite of her breakfast. "It's only fair that I return the favor."
"One could argue that you owe me your very life."
"One could also argue that the debt is mutual."
"I could point out that the life you left me is far inferior to the life you've made for yourself."
Hermione took a deep breath. "Look, I'm not denying that we grossly underestimated how the public would react to your being freed without trial, but I'm offering to help. Don't cut your nose off to spite your face. Not that I'm trying to say anything about your nose," she amended hastily.
Snape pursed his lips, and he went back to eating his bland eggs. Hermione was about to try again, but her wand, which lay next to her plate, began rattling against the table.
"Someone's coming," Hermione said quickly.
"Thank heaven for small mercies," said Snape, pointedly turning away from her.
The doors opened, and the headmistress bustled into the great hall. She stopped short when she saw Hermione and Snape eating breakfast side by side at the high table. Her face drained of color.
Hermione grinned inwardly and decided that perhaps Snape was on to something about the pleasures of making things difficult for other people. "Good morning, Molly. I hadn't expected to see you this early. I've had a most productive morning with my invention. Are you well? You look a bit peaky."
Molly made a Herculean effort to compose herself. "Hermione, dear," she said with the fake smile that Hermione was beginning to despise, "I thought I emphasized the importance of keeping your project secret."
"I don't know what you mean," said Hermione, furrowing her brow for emphasis. "I cast Sentinel Charms at all the entrances. Nobody could enter the Great Hall without my knowing it."
She nearly jumped when Snape added, "Really, you stupid cow, unless you think this mindless parrot capable of breaking the Fidelius Charm, you haven't much to worry about."
Hermione bit back a guffaw, and Molly did a credible job of pretending she hadn't heard Snape. She frowned at Hermione. "You cannot depend on Sentinel Charms. What if somebody were hiding in the room?"
Hermione gestured to the room around her, deliberately swinging her hand within a hairsbreadth of Snape's face. "In the remote possibility that someone were hiding, my invention would detect them, I'd cast the counterspell and then Obliviate them. End of problem."
"I'd love to see her try," grumbled Snape. Hermione managed to ignore him, even as he speared a piece of her pancetta with his fork and ate it. Molly's face was starting to turn red.
"Still," said Molly with a strained laugh, "the walls here have ears. I'd feel much better if you would refrain from mentioning your invention in common areas."
"The only useful invention that swot could come up with would be an automatic page-turner," remarked Snape, reaching out for more pancetta. Hermione neatly blocked his attempt with her elbow and put her chin in her hand.
"I'll be careful, Molly," said Hermione, "But since it's just us the two of us now, won't you join me for a cuppa? I've been dying for some girl talk, and since we're colleagues now, I hoped you might finally tell me why Arthur calls you 'Mollywobbles' when you're alone."
Hermione's composure nearly faltered at Molly's horrified expression, and once again at the sound of tea being snorted out of Severus Snape's nose. She took a bite of her breakfast to celebrate.
"Oh my," said the headmistress, looking at her bare wrist. "I hadn't realized it was so late. Elton?"
A House Elf cracked into existence. "Yes, headmistress?"
"I'll take breakfast in my office — sausages, I think, and ham, eggs, toast, jam, muffins, butter, and tea with milk and four lumps."
"You mustn't forget your daily pound of flesh," said Snape, blowing his nose loudly into his handkerchief.
Elton the House Elf bowed, then disappeared.
"I thought elves wouldn't bring meals anywhere but the Great Hall," said Hermione in a dubious tone.
"She didn't order a meal," said Snape. "She ordered a buffet."
Molly's face hardened, and she rounded on Hermione. "Don't talk to me about rules, young lady! I will not tolerate lectures in my own school."
"That explains the declining N.E.W.T.s scores," drawled Snape.
"It's all right, Molly," said Hermione, trying desperately not to laugh. "I understand that you have loads to do. I won't mention it to anybody."
"That's right," the headmistress snapped at nobody in particular, spun on her heel, and marched out of the Great Hall.
"Mollywobbles," shot Snape.
The door's slam echoed through the hall.
Hermione waited until the headmistress had passed her Sentinel Charm before turning to Snape. "You're absolutely terrible," she said admiringly. "Do you always insult her to her face like that?"
"Only when there are other people in the room," he said. "But it's all for naught. She won't get rid of me, not unless she gains an in-law who's willing to teach Potions gratis, and even then she might keep me here simply out of spite."
Hermione's wand began buzzing again. "Someone else is coming," she said.
Snape glanced at his pocket watch. "Longbottom, most likely" he said with his habitual sneer. "This conversation is not over. Come to my chambers tonight after supper."
"I have to deliver a status report to Molly first," said Hermione, "but I'll be there. What's your password?"
Snape stood. "Surely your intriguing little box can tell you that," he said, spearing the last of her pancetta with his fork and popping it into his mouth.
"Hi, Hermione!" came a cheerful voice from the entrance. It was Neville, cheeks pink from exertion and wearing a pair of muddy robes. "I've been out in Greenhouse Six all night. It's pupping season for the Greenseal."
"Poor dear," Hermione said. "Have a seat and tell me all about it."
Snape sniffed disapprovingly and departed through the main doors in a swirl of black.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
That evening found Hermione stomping through the dungeons, Mag-Spec in hand and murderous thoughts in mind. She pressed its buttons a bit harder than she ought to have done, and she had to stop and take a few deep breaths, lest she do damage to her prototype.
The awful woman had insisted that since she had located so many hidden rooms that day — concealed coat closets was more like it — that she locate an equal number of rooms each successive day. Hermione had tried to argue that expectations shouldn't be based on a single day's worth of data, but Molly was adamant. She suspected that it was revenge for the Mollywobbles incident, but she had no choice but to follow Molly's orders to the letter. She had to keep her wits about her for her meeting with Snape. She couldn't let her annoyance with Molly distract her.
She stopped in front of the wall that she knew concealed the entrance to Snape's office. Fortunately, it was a simple matter to open a password-protected room. She didn't need the password, she simply needed to see the graph of the spell, which would reveal the spell's weak points. The Mag-Spec's green light turned red, and the spell appeared on the screen. Hermione raised an eyebrow. Snape's door spell was as strong and multi-layered as the one that secured the Minister of Magic's door. She knew this because one of her earliest tests had been breaking into Ron's office.
Hermione focused on the image on the screen and began tapping her wand precisely on the wall. It was like breaking a combination lock, only a false tap would give her an unpleasant jolt and she'd have to start over. Fortunately, she was able to stay focused, and within minutes she was standing inside Snape's office.
It was far less creepy than she remembered. A brass chandelier suffused the room with warm yellow light, which was more than the paltry fireplace in the corner was able to do. Still, the room was cozy and warm, and the walls, which once were lined with dead things in bottles and jars now held books: potions references, but also volumes of magical history, and even a copy of "The Tales of Beedle the Bard." Hermione supposed now that no student would ever see the office, attempts to be intimidating were rather superfluous. Certainly, the crocheted afghan carefully folded over the back of the chair closest to the fire would not have fit the image he cultivated.
Hermione laid her hand on the soft wool, noting its faint cedar scent, and promptly failed at imagining Snape curled underneath it. She was amused to note that there was a comically large lock on the cabinet, which Hermione knew contained his private stores. She idly wondered if he had put it there for her benefit.
Since there was no sign of the man, she withdrew her Mag-Spec and took a quick reading of the room. Hermione felt a sudden twinge of guilt when she realized how many heating charms were required to make the room comfortable. Closer examination revealed that most of the charms were temporary, which meant that he'd cast them for her benefit, and quite possibly, to arouse her guilt when she examined the room, which he must have known she would do. Impossible man. And, judging by the twin lines in yellow and cobalt that indicated the presence of Disillusionment and Notice-Me-Not charms, he was also in the room somewhere.
Hermione raised her wand. Her magical sense was fair, but it wasn't sensitive enough to locate a Notice-Me-Not charm, but there was more than one defense against Disillusionment.
"Rosamundi," she said, sweeping her wand in an arc before her. A shower of flower petals in every color of the rainbow began to fluttering gently from the ceiling. Sure enough, a man-shaped hole appeared in the air near the Potions stores. He revealed himself with a muffled curse.
"Really, Professor, if you were that concerned about me stealing from your private stores, we could have met elsewhere."
"Foolish girl!" he snapped. "Cease these ham-handed antics at once!"
"You're one to talk, hiding in your own quarters. You could have simply asked me to show you my Mag-Spec if you wanted to see what it does." She raised her wand to Vanish the petals, but Snape laid his hand on her forearm to stop her.
"Would you have complied?" He conjured a glass jar and swept all the fallen petals into it with a wave of his wand.
Hermione frowned, at a loss to explain his actions. "That depends on why you asked me here tonight."
He set the jar of petals on the table and cast a nonverbal charm that caused the petals to shrivel and turn brown. Another nonverbal charm summoned a mortal and pestle, with which he crushed the petals into fine brown powder, and another charm transferred them to a small blue bottle, which he sealed with a cork and placed in his private potions stores.
Hermione was bewildered, but remembered his admonishment to remain silent, and watched his adept charm work without a word. He gave her a curt nod and tapped his wand on a nondescript black volume on the bookshelf. The shelf swung forward, revealing a narrow doorway.
"Come," he ordered, gesturing towards the dimly-lit passageway he'd revealed. Hermione's eyes widened. She expected Snape's quarters to be difficult to penetrate, but the dimly illuminated corridor that stretched before her fairly crackled with protective magic. She shuddered. Anybody who managed to find the secret door to the hallway would soon be in over her or her head.
She stepped past him, as he extinguished the lights and fire and dispelled the Warming Charms with dispassionate flick of his wand. He edged past her into the narrow passageway and gestured for her to follow. Hermione could see her breath in the chilly air and pulled her robes more tightly about her. She followed him down the hall past the doors to his private rooms. The walls of the passageway glowed softly, and her fingers itched to discover the spell that made it happen, but Snape gave her a quelling glare and put his finger to his lips, gesturing for her to be silent.
He led her into a tiny storeroom that contained boxes and a few larger objects whose identities were concealed by drop cloths. Though the room was clean, there was a faint acrid, smoky smell that suffused the cold air.
Snape removed a key from his pocket and locked the door behind him.
"We may speak freely here without fear of interruption," he said, "though I must insist that you not cast any additional spells, as the headmistress monitors all wand use in all rooms reserved for my private use. I was fortunate that the rather quixotic charm you chose to reveal me produced a relatively common Potions ingredient, so it will not be difficult to justify its use to the headmistress."
The irritation with Molly that had lain dormant flared back to life. "She's mad!" exclaimed Hermione.
"On the contrary, she's quite shrewd. It's a simple way to ensure that her prisoner will not have the means to escape."
"What about the charms you chose to hide yourself? Won't those be difficult to explain?"
"Not at all. I typically conceal myself in my quarters."
"Why? The only people who know you're here will know you've done it."
"True, but they won't know where I am hidden. Since my Weasley tormentors realized that, their unannounced visits have all but stopped. It seems that neither of them finds their conversations with empty rooms as diverting as I do."
Only the gravity of the situation kept Hermione from laughing at the image of Molly lecturing the chair by the fire. "Tormentors, as in plural?"
"Molly, who cast the Fidelius, and Percy, the overeager Secret Keeper."
"Why Percy?"
"Another shrewd move. Of all the Weasley children, he harbors the most guilt over his inaction in the early stages of the war. He is also the least likely to ask questions. Fortunately for me, there are numerous ways to do magic that even the headmistress's spells cannot detect."
"Activation of previously-cast spells, like passwords," said Hermione. "Apparation, if it were allowed. And Potions, of course," she added hastily.
"Of course," repeated Snape acerbically. "I may also use magical objects that were created elsewhere, which, I presume, describes that lump of plastic in your hand. This brings me to the reason that I have asked you here tonight, Granger. You claim that you've broken the Fidelius Charm and have suggested that you may be able to free me from my servitude. Before I take you any further into my confidence, I would like a demonstration. Prove to me that you are able to do what you say you can do."
Hermione took a deep breath. "Is there a place to sit?"
Snape gestured to a drop-clothed item behind her. "That's a sofa. I suggest that you keep the drop cloth in place, as it's somewhat singed."
Hermione sat, and found the sofa to be rather hard. She belated realized that this was probably the sofa that had been inside Spinner's End when the unknown arsonist had burned it to the ground. Snape remained standing, arms crossed, and regarding her with a challenging stare.
She met his gaze squarely. "How much do you know about subatomic particles, sir?"
"You don't really expect me to believe that you have brought a nuclear-powered device into a school."
"Of course not, but it's easier to explain if you understand what makes up matter."
"I know that matter is composed of elements, which are made of atoms, which are made up of different types of sub-atomic particles."
"Do you know about anti-matter as well?"
"I know enough to know that matter and anti-matter annihilate one another. For every particle, there is an anti-particle."
"Good," said Hermione, nodding. "Now, what about light? What's it made of?"
"Light is a form of energy, and it's composed of waves of particles called photons," he replied.
"Exactly. And Einstein's famous equation tells us that there's a measurable relationship between matter and energy."
"As fascinating as this refresher on secondary school science is, I trust you're going to impress me at some point?"
Hermione ignored him. "Based on what you know of matter and energy, what can we say about magic?"
"Nothing. Magic is completely different."
"Really? It has observable properties. The Protego charm shows us that magic can be reflected. When someone is hit with multiple hexes at once, the result is different than if the victim were to be hit with the hexes one after another, which suggests that magic can be refracted."
"Your examples merely illustrate that magic can affect magic, which is patently obvious from the fact that spells have counterspells."
"But based on what we know of matter and anti-matter, isn't it possible that a counterspell is simply anti-magic annihilating magic?"
"It's possible," he replied with distaste, "but there are infinite other possible explanations."
"All right then, let's take Einstein's theory that energy and matter are inextricably linked. Magic like Transfiguration clearly affects matter, and simple Heating Charms affect energy. And all magic interferes with electricity. Surely something that can affect basic types of particles is in itself made of specific particles."
"I suppose this is where you take out your little machine," said Snape dismissively, sitting down on the sofa next to her.
Hermione cheered inwardly at his unspoken acknowledgement of her argument's validity and held out her Mag-Spec so that he could see what she was doing. "The Magispectrometer functions similarly to the Muggle mass spectrometer, which determines the composition of a sample based on its mass and energy. The Mag-Spec determines the composition of spells by graphing them based on their properties."
"But what does it detect?"
"The fundamental particles that make up magic, which I've called prestons."
Snape looked down his not unimpressive nose. "Prestons?"
Hermione valiantly tried not to blush. "I saw a Muggle magician when I was six, and 'Presto!' was his magic word." She turned on the Mag-Spec and pointed to the lines that appeared. "All of these lines represent active spells in the room."
"What are the letters on the graph's axes?" asked Snape.
"It's sort of complicated," said Hermione. "You know how different types of quarks are called 'flavors?' It doesn't have anything to do with taste — it's just a simple word that's easy to work with. For simplicity's sake, I've named the four flavors of prestons for the four classic elements based on their diametric properties. So the y-axis of the graph shows you how much Earth and Air comprise the spell, and the x-axis shows Fire and Water."
"Charming," said Snape, sighing impatiently.
"So all these lines on the Earth side of the E-A axis are the basic protection and secrecy spells that are on the whole castle. Unfortunately, since the locus of the spell isn't in the room, I can't show you a detailed diagram of the spell. However, this line here," she indicated an aqua line that wavered through the water side of the F-W axis, "is strong enough that its locus is in the room. I haven't developed perfect means of finding spell loci, but I can sometimes find it just by listening."
"Or you might simply conclude that you're seeing the illumination spell I cast on the walls," said Snape.
Hermione ignored him and approached the nearest wall. "When I find the locus, I place the Mag-Spec next to it. If the light turns red — as you can see, it has — the Mag-Spec has detected enough prestons to display a full histogram of the spell."
She handed Snape the Mag-Spec, and he examined the intricate graph made by the spell, his brow furrowed.
"It may not look like anything useful," she explained, "but if you look at enough of these, you can recognize features that indicate the spell's function. For example," she said, pointing, "this structure indicates that this is a spell that you don't need to renew — it's permanent. However, since there's an overlap with this other part, which is a mechanism that allows for gradations of spell effect, I'm guessing that you can control the amount of light the walls emit."
Snape was looking at her with an unreadable expression on his face. "What else does this tell you?"
Hermione tapped her wand on the screen to examine part of the histogram more closely. "The spell takes a lot of focus to cast, but will last indefinitely. In order to make the walls glow consistently, a smooth, steady wand action is required during casting, most likely a baseboard-to-ceiling vertical flick. Oh, and this spike indicates that only the person who cast the spell can control the light. Very neat work. It's one of yours, isn't it?"
Snape went rigid beside her. "How the devil did you deduce that?"
Hermione shrugged. "I know an awful lot of light-producing charms, but this one is new to me. Add that to the fact that you used it to light the entirety of your private quarters and that you've been inventing spells since you were a teenager, it seemed a logical conclusion."
He relaxed infinitesimally at that. "What aspect of the Fidelius Charm allowed you to break it?"
"That was kind of a fluke, actually," admitted Hermione. "The spell has universal effect, thus, no locus that would allow me to view its histogram. However, its function is to hide a secret, so the secret forms the basis of the simple structure. I simply viewed the spell closely enough to read it, that's all. It doesn't work that way for most other spells. I'm sure there are other exceptions, but the technology's new, and my test cases have been few."
"And what precisely are you doing with it at present?"
"The headmistress is having me map all of Hogwarts so that we have access to all the hidden rooms."
"Sounds tedious."
"It will be, especially since she's declared that I have to discover a minimum of twenty hidden rooms every day. I'm tempted to create dozens of new hidden closets just to meet my daily quota."
"The curse of the perpetual overachiever," he said, smirking, "is that when people discover that you can make miracles happen, they expect you to walk on water to bring them tea."
"It could be worse. I could be testing the potency of potions ingredients for a year."
"Interesting." He stood and faced the wall for a moment. Presently, he turned to Hermione. "So you are telling me that Molly Weasley has bullied her way into controlling the most powerful analytic tool the Magical world has seen since the Diagnostic Spell, and she's using it to keep Hogwarts students from having places to snog?"
"I don't think it's just the snogging. I'm sure she's very concerned about other infractions of her initiatives and acts of rebellion by her family members."
Hermione had a vague suspicion that Snape was amused. "You seem remarkably blasé about wasting a year's worth of research."
"It may not be what I'd have chosen for myself, but given that I've been at work less than twenty-four hours and I've already figured out a way to break the Fidelius Charm, I'd say it's been far from a waste."
"Perhaps you ought to send the headmistress a nice pot plant," he suggested blandly.
"I considered it, but Neville says the Venomous Tentacula cuttings won't be ready for another six months."
There it was again; Snape was definitely smiling. Or whatever the Snape version of smiling was. Smirking with his eyes, perhaps. "So what precisely are you planning to do about the headmistress?"
"It's far too early to say," she said. "Admittedly, I've seen numerous weaknesses to exploit, not least of which is your presence. But there are some things about what the headmistress is doing that I don't quite understand yet, and I'd hate to act prematurely."
"And, of course, if you revealed my presence now, I'd be in the same situation I was before, and you'd be without your funding."
"Do you really think I couldn't get non-Ministry capital to support this research in a heartbeat?"
Snape regarded her curiously. "Then why don't you?"
Hermione shrugged. "Someone has to fix what Molly's done to Hogwarts."
Snape gave a snort. "I had wondered where it was."
"Where what was?"
"The Gryffindor. You have the tenacity of a Hufflepuff, your intellectual curiosity is pure Ravenclaw, and your analysis, loath as I am to admit it, is somewhat Slytherin. You've changed, Miss Granger, perhaps even grown. But you haven't left everything that you were behind."
"I'm relieved to hear it," she replied dryly. "Does this mean that you'll let me help you?"
"I should like some time to consider what you've told me this evening. Unless, of course," he added sardonically, "now that you've told me, you have to Obliviate me."
"Take all the time you need. You know where I'll be. I would ask one favor of you tonight, though."
"I will not teach you the illumination spell," said Snape, crossing his arms.
"I didn't ask," said Hermione pointedly. "Honestly, man, would it kill you to at least hear my request before refusing it?"
Snape did laugh at that. It wasn't a particularly attractive laugh — more like a cough — but it wasn't a sound she'd ever heard him make before. "All right then, Granger. I am at your disposal."
"I'd like to scan you and graph the Unbreakable Vow. I don't know that I can break it, but if there are any weaknesses, the Mag-Spec will help me find them."
He inhaled, as if to make an answer, but stopped, swallowed hard and cleared his throat. "I cannot consent to that."
Hermione tutted impatiently. "How am I supposed to find a way to free you if I can't study the spell?"
"I haven't the foggiest notion, but I am unable to give you my permission."
Hermione stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment. "But—"
"Listen, Hermione." She nearly jumped at his use of her given name. "I cannot willingly allow you to scan me. However, I am going to cover my ears and close my eyes for the next thirty seconds. I hope that you will find some way to keep yourself occupied while I do so."
Of course. Given that Molly had essentially stripped Severus of all of his rights through the Unbreakable Vow, it made sense, in her Machiavellian way, that she would try to prevent him from probing it for weaknesses. Not that it was likely that the Unbreakable Vow had much in the way of weaknesses, but paranoia was paranoia. And given that the person being bound by it was Severus Snape, she had to admit that Molly was wise to be concerned.
Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by Snape's tuneless humming, which was probably made even more tuneless by having his ears covered. She quickly scanned him when the light turned green, and an impossibly complex graph appeared on the screen. She saved it and returned the Mag-Spec to its carrying case before Snape opened his eyes.
"We are finished tonight, I trust?" asked Snape with far more dignity than someone who had been humming Celestina Warbeck's reggae-fusion cover of "Makin' Whoopee" a moment ago ought to have had.
"I believe so. Do let me know your decision either way."
He nodded, and unlocked the door. "I'll see you out."
"That's not necessary," she said, stepping out of the door and into the hallway.
He gestured for her to walk back towards his office. "It is if I wish to keep all the contents of my private stores."
She scowled at him. "That was twenty years ago, Professor."
"Yet you still call me Professor," he said smugly.
"I haven't met a magical lock that I couldn't crack with the Mag-Spec, Severus," she added defiantly.
"Then I shall have to rely on your innate sense of fair play," he said without noticeable inflection.
"At least I have one," she grumbled, all but certain she was being teased.
"I am glad of it," he said, holding open the door to his office. "You'd be dreadfully difficult to manipulate otherwise. Good night, Miss Granger."
"Sweet dreams, sir," she replied, relieved to have quit while she was not so far behind.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
By the time the next day dawned, Hermione was hard at work and doing her best not to allow her irritation to get the better of her. She had awoken to Barbra the House Elf delivering a note from Molly. The missive strongly suggested that Hermione map the student common rooms as soon as possible. Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that Molly's reason for doing so was because the student quarters were the best-protected and well-explored areas of the school. It would be nearly impossible for Hermione to find twenty new rooms if she followed Molly's exact orders.
The Fat Lady was none too pleased to have been awoken at such an indecent hour during the holidays, and was even less pleased when Hermione scanned her portrait. Hermione was glad she'd thought to do so, because now that Gryffindor was an all-male house, there were Caterwauling Charms that were set to go off whenever a non-staff female passed through the portrait. Hermione had no wish to force Gryffindor's Head of House out of bed so early, so she disabled the charm with a wave of her wand. With an air of mixed annoyance and trepidation, Hermione stepped into Gryffindor common room.
It had certainly changed. The chairs and tapestries were new, or at least, new to the room, and it had none of the warmth she remembered, though that could be partially credited to the fact that the fireplace was unlit. A sour odor suffused the air, and Hermione was positive that it hadn't smelled that disgusting when she'd been a student. Of course, Gryffindor hadn't been an all-male house then, either.
A Mag-Spec scan of the room revealed numerous spells of interest, including a Spy Spell similar to the one that was on the mirror in her room. Hermione suspected its locus was the floor-length mirror by the wall leading up to the dormitories, but she would need to be out of its range before testing the theory, since she suspected that Molly was watching. She saw a telltale Earth line, which indicated that there was at least one secret door on one of the walls, probably a cloak closet, and, seeing nothing else of note on the rest of the scan, went in search of it.
She found a hidden door on the easternmost wall. According to the blueprint of the castle that Molly had given her, the wall surrounding the common room was eight inches of solid stone. The room was clearly a magical construct, just like the myriad closets she'd found the day before off the Great Hall. She opened the door with a tap of her wand and discovered it to be a cloak closet, and one that, given the style of cloaks inside it, nobody had used it for at least a hundred years.
Hermione dutifully marked the coordinates of the closet in her notebook. One hidden room found, only nineteen to go.
She raised the Mag-Spec and walked the perimeter of the room, watching to see if the lights indicated the presence of a spell locus. She was near a recreation of the Bayeux Tapestry — with the naughty bits removed, of course — when the green light flashed red. The histogram appeared nearly identical to the hidden closet she'd already found, and she raised her wand to open the door but received a sharp magical jolt.
Odd. The door was password protected. Fortunately, between the histogram and her skill at cracking magical locks, a few taps of her wand revealed a plain wooden door in the wall. Hermione turned the handle and opened the door, revealing a dark room. She lit her wand and entered.
It was visibly indistinguishable from the other closets she'd found, but the air inside fairly crackled with magic. Oddly, the room was completely empty but for a small armchair of indeterminate age.
Hermione released the illumination spell from her wand, and it hovered overhead, suffusing the room with cold blue light. She raised the Mag-Spec and took a reading of the room. The screen was immediately crisscrossed with a number of lines, several of which were surprisingly erratic and elaborate. This was no ordinary closet.
She first turned her attention to the door through which she had come and was surprised to realize that it was all but transparent. The Mag-Spec confirmed the present of a One-Way Charm, which meant that anybody sitting in the room could spy on the Gryffindor Common Room without fear of being noticed.
An observation room like this was far superior to any Spy Spell, provided was patient enough to hide in it for long stretches of time. Clearly, this was exactly the sort of hidden room that Molly would sell her Christmas pudding recipe to know about. However, the password spell and One-Way Charm didn't account for the complicated spells she'd seen on the Mag-Spec.
After making sure there were no spells on the chair, Hermione walked the circumference of the room slowly, Mag-Spec raised and senses primed to pick up the faintest prick of magic. When she had reached the back corner of the room, the green light turned red and a bizarrely complicated graph appeared on the screen. For the first time in months, Hermione had no idea what kind of spell she was looking at. She tapped her wand on the screen to get a closer look, and she realized that the complicated part of the graph had to do with its casting rather than its function.
She tapped her wand on the screen several more times to get past the casting noise and was stunned to realize that she was looking at another hidden door. Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. The reason that magical rooms weren't usually used to spy is because entirely magical spaces like this could only be anchored to a single place in the physical world, so secondary entrances were fiendishly difficult to create. In fact, standard magical theory said it was impossible.
However, the existence of the Room of Requirement, which Neville had coaxed into providing a tunnel into the Hog's Head, belied the impossibility, and it was one of many things that Hermione looked forward to studying in more detail. And now, she found herself in a magical room that contained two doors.
Hermione turned off the Mag-Spec and returned it to her pocket. There was simply too much visual noise on her Mag-Spec graph to be helpful. She'd have to open this one the old-fashioned way. She'd feel around with her wand, and if that didn't work, she'd consider the Reductor Curse.
Fortunately, it didn't come to that. While Hermione ran her wand over the door in search of a weak spot in the spell, her hand knocked into something unseen. The creator of the impossible second door had equipped it with an invisible doorknob.
Hermione bit back a laugh, extinguished her illumination spell, and opened the door.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The room she entered was about the size of the Gryffindor Common Room, but it seemed much smaller because she was surrounded by doors. Doors lined the walls and formed narrow corridors that wound about the room. Hermione swallowed a gulp. There were hundreds of them. She took a Mag-Spec reading and was surprised to find that the door room was not a magical construct. It was a physical room located somewhere inside Hogwarts. Hermione's stomach clenched. If her own entrance to the room was any indication, then each of these doors led to other rooms in the school.
It was simultaneously fascinating and horrifying to think that some previous headmaster or headmistress had been as keen on spying as Molly. Hermione shivered at the thought of someone being able to watch what was happening at any moment anywhere in the castle. She examined the door through which she had come and noticed that its doorknob was embossed with a G. The room next to it was marked with an H, and to test her theory, she opened the door and peered through. As she had feared, the room led to a small observation room with a transparent window into the Hufflepuff common room. Grimly, she came back through the door into the room, which she was beginning to think of as Door Central and began examining the other doors around her.
The doors nearest her had an S and an R on their respective handles, which she assumed meant that they led to the other houses' common rooms. She wandered down the aisle of doors, taking stock of those doors that featured clues as to their destinations. One door had been carved with a cauldron over flames, which she suspected led to an observation room adjacent to one of the Potions classrooms. Another featured a telescope, which was probably the Astronomy Tower. She came to a stop before the largest door, which was gilt-framed and featured enormously tacky golden fixtures.
With a sense of trepidation, Hermione opened the door a crack and peered through. It was a bedroom, but presumably the bedroom of a narcissist, since the wall across from her vantage place was covered with mirrors from floor to ceiling. However, they did not reflect what was in front of them - each mirror displayed a different room. There was also a large clock opposite her, which, she was surprised to see, contained a hand with her name on it, which was currently pointed at "exploring."
Hermione froze when she realized she was not alone in the room. At the far end of the room stood Molly Weasley, who was peering intently into one of the magic mirrors. She'd found the headmistress's sanctum sanctorum. However, this was not the time for observation; this was the time to disappear, and very quickly. Praying that her luck would hold, Hermione closed the door as quietly as she could, inwardly cursing herself for not realizing where the door would lead.
Hermione closed the door behind her, and she immediately cast Colloportus and several unpleasant wards on the ornate door. They would not be impossible to break, but they would certainly discourage all but the most curious. It was only then that she paused to catch her breath. Her throat was tight with anger as she realized the lengths to which Molly was willing to go to know everything that was going on in the castle. However, she was relieved to know that since Molly was relying on mirrors and magical clocks to keep track of the castle's occupants, she couldn't possibly know about Door Central. The golden fixtures were probably the work of the headmaster or headmistress who had created Door Central.
If she was going to keep Door Central secret from Molly, she was going to have to appear to be characteristically thorough in her explorations, and that meant that there was still much to do in Gryffindor Tower. She would need to find or create nineteen hidden rooms. She also realized that Molly was probably watching the Gryffindor Common Room and growing more suspicious every minute she was gone.
Judging by the number of doors in the room, she was confident that she would have plenty of opportunities to explore the network of doors and hopefully find a less observed way of entering it. As tempting as it was to stay and explore, maintaining her cover was more important.
Hermione hurried back to observation room off the Gryffindor Common Room and conjured a layer of dust on herself to make it appear as if she had been doing dirty work inside the closet. She staggered theatrically into the common room and collapsed into one of the chairs with a sigh.
Satisfied that Molly would see what she wanted to see, Hermione studied the Mag-Spec's screen, which displayed the complex spell that had allowed her to move between magically-created spaces. Just a few more minutes of study. Then she'd get back to work.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
At that evening's debriefing session, Hermione decided she was getting better at hiding her glee at Molly's frustration. At present, the headmistress's face was a particularly amusing shade of red, but Hermione had succeeded in maintaining her façade of tired acquiescence.
"Do you mean to tell me," said the headmistress, carefully enunciating, "that you found eighteen hidden closets in Gryffindor Tower alone?"
"It's not really that surprising, given how much easier it is to make a hidden closet than to find and break into one," said Hermione with a touch of apology.
"I must say, I'm very disappointed with your progress. Given the amount of area you covered yesterday, I expected you to get through at least two houses today."
"If you include the area of the hidden closets, the amount of space covered is roughly equal," said Hermione reasonably. "And considering how much time the students spend in Gryffindor Tower, it makes perfect sense that there would be more hidden spaces than in a public corridor or classroom."
"But eighteen? The spell to make hidden closets isn't even taught at Hogwarts," said Molly peevishly.
"Neither are hexes and curses, yet students certainly know them."
"I'd expect it of the Slytherins," Molly complained, "but what do Gryffindors have to hide?"
"According to my detailed inventory, which you'll find on the attached sheets, mostly dirty laundry, broken equipment, and assorted rubbish," said Hermione helpfully. "I'm sorry you're disappointed with my progress, Molly, but it's only been two days. Perhaps it's a bit early to set expectation for how much can be done in a single day. You know that doing a thorough job of things benefits us both, but it's simply going to take time."
"Well," said the headmistress, scowling, "time isn't something we have a great deal of. What if you aren't able to finish the houses before the students return?"
"Then I'll take care of them over Easter hols or over the summer, or after curfew" said Hermione. "You've secured my services through the end of the funding cycle. We don't need to do everything at once."
"You will do as I say when I say it, young lady," said Molly, whose scowl had deepened. "Now, you will do more than a house tomorrow, or there will be no Christmas pudding for you. If I were you, I'd get cracking tonight."
Hermione was glad that previous conversations with Molly had accustomed her to the woman's frustrating and often quixotic orders. She merely nodded. "Will that be all tonight, Mollly? My day starts early tomorrow, and I'd better start now if you want me to get through Ravenclaw."
"Yes, go," said Molly, and again Hermione was struck with the impression that there was something important that the headmistress wasn't telling her. Well, that suited Hermione down to the ground. Eventually, the headmistress would tell her what she was supposed to be looking for, and until then, she would explore Door Central in what time she could devote to it.
Hermione beat a hasty retreat before Molly could add anything more to her list of orders.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~