Left Behind
Chapter Six
"If a man was not at his neighbour's keyhole, it is probable that his neighbours would be at his."
Ian Ferguson
outside McGonagall's office
Professor McGonagall assigned detention on the first Saturday of October, citing daily detention with several other students during weekdays as her reason. Hermione was simply relieved that it would end early enough for her meeting with Harry and Ron. She couldn't believe, however, that she was actually looking forward to detention.
'Then again, it is rather reasonable to feel such', she thought, as she walked to the Professor McGonagall's office after lunch. Hermione had long wanted to approach the latter but she didn't know if God knows which Ministry Decree – even the swot in her balked at memorising the horrid edicts – included apprenticeships under unwarranted topics outside classroom matters. Much as she wasn't completely adverse to disobeying rules, everyone had heard that alarms or spies had been put in place.
Having reached the professor's door, she raised her hand to knock on it. It swung open as Professor McGonagall's voice called out, "Come in Ms. Granger." Hermione complied , her eyes quickly scanning the room, and they settled on the two porcelain cups and a familiar black tea pot. Her shoulders lost their tension; it had been so long since she'd had tea with her Head of House and it seemed that the older lady had found a way to evade the rules.
"Ms. Granger." The younger woman's eyes met her mentor's in surprise. Never had she heard her favourite teacher speak so sharply. "You will be sorting the items used by this week's transfiguration classes."
Or not, apparently. Hermione was taken aback, yet she realised that perhaps she been too hasty in assuming that the tea was for her. Before she had turned to the door leading to the adjacent classroom however, she heard the heavy, oaken door shut with a loud thud.
"I'm sorry about that," the older woman gestured to the seat before her desk, "I cannot tell who could be listening in. If they could find a way to break the privacy wards of the professors, I'm sure they would have." Hermione chuckled as she graciously accepted the proffered seat. She had forgotten about those. Those wards were woven into the very foundations of the school. Over-riding them was bloody unlikely, but she wouldn't put it past the present Headmaster to have tried something. The professor began pouring her trademark Harrogate blend, "Do you remember what I said before I closed the door?"
Hermione thought back for a moment and chuckled again. There was no mention of disallowing magical means and thus, with a flick of her wrists, the cockles, tortoise shells, match sticks and other odds and ends sorted themselves.
"Very good, Hermione," Professor McGonagall handed her a cup. "Someone who reads as voraciously as you do must have some type of sorting spell handy. I would know." She pursed her lips wryly as she picked up her teacup, "So, we have an hour's worth of detention. For today, I shall require you to sustain half of a decent conversation."
Hermione decided that it was the dry wit that always kept her entertained around the professor as she almost chuckled a third time. As she added a cube of sugar and a bit of milk, she felt this was her chance, and spoke up.
"Professor, I've meant to ask you about doing an extra project." Her fingers traced the rose patterns of the teacup, seeking comfort in their familiarity.
"Well, my dear, I would not think you require my permission to do so."
Hermione nodded and recalled to mind what she had read in the library, "If you would not deem it impolite, may I ask if you have an apprentice at present?" Wizarding Etiquette was the text's self-explanatory title and she hoped her hunch as right.
The tips of the older woman's lips turned slightly upward as she did a quick mental computation, "My last apprentice left me about sixteen years ago."
"May I formally offer my project as proof and test of my dedication to the craft you have mastered?"
The professor smiled a tight-lipped smile, one that in Hermione's mind was equal to a full blown grin. She took it as leave to continue.
"And should I succeed, may I offer it as part of my request to become your apprentice?"
The tension in the room was drawn taut like a violin string. There was a moment when Hermione feared that the Ministerial Decree had somehow taken effect and silenced them both, but Professor McGonagall raised both her wand and voice to complete the tradition. "I accept your offer, Hermione Jean Granger. I will be honoured to consider offering you an apprenticeship upon successful completion of your project."
Hermione touched the tip of her wand to that of her mentor's to complete the traditional binding of wizards and their apprentices. The ends lit up as if they had simultaneously cast Lumos; ribbons of gold and white spiralled out, intertwined from where their wands were joined. The ribbons changed form and colour again and again as shadows and tables around them shifted into birds, furniture, diamonds, frogs, brooms, quills and back into tables again. As swiftly as these appeared, a gust of wind from above them dissipated the smoke and returned the room to its original form.
Lowering her wand, Professor McGonagall spoke in a softer tone. "I promised myself I would only take on an apprentice who could ask me with the same words I had directed to my master. After all, such relationships are all about respect, decorum and trust. For the craft and for each other." She tapped the rose plate beside the tea pot with her wand. "I'm very glad you did your research, my dear."
"Thank you, Professor." Hermione thought of the books she had had to consult to find the proper words. She had only heard of them through older students and felt fortunate that instinct had told her that Professor McGonagall would appreciate the gesture. There was a lull in the conversation when only the tinkle of teaspoons against china was audible. Hermione thought of her plans for the future, "Professor, would it be all right if I used the project to earn extra credit in charms or potions as well?"
A house elf, it appeared to be Winky, responded to Professor McGonagall's request by filling the rose plate with short bread and disappeared with a small curtsey when the Professor thanked her. She turned to Hermione,
"An interdisciplinary project then?"
"Yes, something like that."
"Well, I'm just very happy to know that when all this is over," she gestured around them as if her hand could encompass the entirety of their situation, "One of the brightest witches I had ever known has a future under my tutelage. How and where you earn credit for this project is entirely up to you."
Hermione blushed at the compliment. "Thank you, Professor."
"So, Hermione, what was it you wanted to talk about?"
"Professor?"
"Well, you're a smart young lass, you would have found a way to discuss an apprenticeship with me under normal circumstances." The tartan clad woman dared not continue. If she thought as Hermione did - and she did in fact – the alarms on meetings or illicit conversations between teachers and students were set off by certain phrases rather than actual intent, the latter being nearly impossible to implement.
Like a light bulb turned on, an idea popped into Hermione's mind. "Professor, from a purely academic standpoint," she sincerely hoped the word 'academic' would prevent the enchantments guarding the castle from alerting the Carrows or whoever was watching that they were delving into matters wholly not scholastic, "Would you think that another class concerning magical warfare should be offered in Hogwarts?"
A quirk of her lip was Professor McGonagall's initial response. "Theoretically speaking, Hermione, it would help, however it would interfere with the classes at present. I don't think students would attend class on weekends. After all, with Quidditch practices and all, students would have to do it at night. You'd also have to find a room that would have all of your requirements." As if tired of her mini monologue, the Professor leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.
Hermione did not miss the not-so-subtle emphasis and it seemed that great minds ran parallel. "I presume for such an idea to be successful, we will need someone to lead. We would have to tell you or another teacher to keep order during classes." The glimmer of understanding in the professor's eyes indicated that she too had understood. Both then remained silent, finishing the last of their tea, when the clock – transfigured from a pinecone - struck ten. Beside them, the oak door swung open.
"Oh, look at the time, Miss Granger." Professor McGonagall sounded inordinately pleased with herself and their meeting. "You best be getting back to Gryffindor tower."
Hermione rose and took her leave, the back of her mind supplying that Professor McGonagall had visibly aged years. She shook her head. Now was not the time to turn maudlin; she had two boys to feed and a conundrum to figure out once they had explained to her whatever it was they had been making her research on.
As if to prove her point, she tripped on a trick step while hurrying to the kitchens.
AN: Not as interesting a chapter as the previous, but necessary I'd say. Like long math classes, I suppose. :) I have no idea what time curfew in canon is and apparently the information is not online either so for the purposes of this fic, I'm setting it at half past ten. If you know the right time, do drop me a line so I can adjust the timing here.