A/N: Thanks to /u/HermioneGPEV for catching a hanging-edit redundancy! And /u/torac for a tense flub!
o-o-o-o-o
Dinner was a relatively sombre affair, given the impending memorial service, but not quite so much as it had been the night Madam Pomfrey's death had been announced. Hermione wondered how many students intended on actually attending. From the relative volume of conversation across and along the House tables, she guessed slightly more Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, and more upper-years than younger students.
She'd eaten no more than a few nibbles - her stomach had never really improved over the course of the day's various stresses - then headed to the hospital wing before the dinner hour had even finished. Hermione had peered carefully at the head table, but Nurse Wainscott hadn't appeared, so she presumed she was still hard at work.
As she entered the open doorway, she'd intended to knock politely, but her hand hesitated, halfway raised. Nurse Wainscott was sitting at the small desk-cum-worktable near the entrance, but hadn't yet noticed Hermione, as her forehead was resting on her folded arms atop the desk. Despite how near she was, the Ravenclaw couldn't hear anything, but from the way the young woman's shoulders were moving, it seemed clear she was crying.
Hermione was frozen with awkward indecision. If she tried to comfort her, would the nurse be embarrassed by such attention from a student? Or if she didn't try, was she being a horrible person? A Gryffindor might've just done it without thinking, probably likewise a Hufflepuff. But she was a Ravenclaw, and she hadn't read any books on helping people cope with grief, let alone one appropriate for children helping an adult, which she suspected didn't even exist. She almost stepped back into the hallway to hide, but her anti-anxiety reflexes kicked in, and she examined her fear.
I'm afraid I'm going to make a mistake. The consequences I fear are partially making her feel worse, but mostly...me feeling embarrassed if I get it wrong. But my feelings aren't the most important ones here, she's feeling much, much worse than I'm likely to, and for better reason. Plus, even if I do make a mistake and feel embarrassed, I will probably feel much worse later if I don't try anything at all.
Before she could think any other thoughts and possibly rationalize herself out of it, Hermione took two quick steps forward and hugged the young woman. She startled, and indeed looked a bit embarrassed, but straightened in her chair and turned slightly, returning the hug. After a moment they separated, and the nurse tried to say something, but nothing came out. She held up an apologetic finger, recovered her wand from the desk and made the familiar motions for a Finite, then tried again.
"Thank you. I know I'm supposed to be staying strong for everyone, I just…" She wiped at her cheeks with a corner of her apron. Hermione felt very glad she'd done as she had, but still a bit helpless.
"I...I never actually met Madam Pomfrey, but everyone I've heard talk about her says she was a really good person. I'm sorry." Her words felt painfully inadequate, but there wasn't really anything she could say that would help...she might mention the ongoing Ravenclaw investigation into whose fault it actually was, but she hadn't received any owls back, and there was still no telling if that would actually end up exonerating Madam Pomfrey. Except…
"She was, truly," said the nurse, not really looking at Hermione. "I feel like a fraud, trying to do her job...I'm just starting my third training year, for Hippocrates' sake, I only graduated two years ago." Hermione, who still harbored a semi-conscious faith in the universality of the categories 'responsible adult' and 'everyone else', for the first time vaguely noticed how young the woman was - she could've easily passed for a seventh-year.
"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have given you the job if you couldn't do it," Hermione said kindly, if not necessarily with full confidence, since the woman seemed to have a point. At least insofar as Hermione's understanding of the qualifications process for positions went, which was admittedly not very far.
"The Headmaster is a great wizard, and very kind, but...if I'd only returned faster, maybe I'd have noticed, warned her…" Madam Wainscott looked like she might cry again, then shook her head angrily. "Merlin, I shouldn't be even talking to you about this. Let me just finish writing the dosing instructions for your potion." She reached for a quill and resumed scratching out careful lines on an already half-filled scroll on the desk.
As uncomfortable as Hermione was at not having really helped, if she was honest with herself, she was grateful the conversation had ended - partially from awkwardness, but also as something in the conversation had increasingly distracted her, the realization that once again, she hadn't re-evaluated prior conclusions based on new information, had not ever really evaluated them fully in the first place, because new things kept coming up and she just hadn't had time to think about everything properly. It was all about what happened to Madam Pomfrey - if she was assuming for the moment that the un-disillusioned notes were accurate, which she was, Hermione didn't need to wait to hear back from the ingredients suppliers, because the notes gave plenty of clues. Older Hermione felt responsible for Madam Pomfrey's death, because it was a change. And it had something to do with someone with the initials "P.P.", who was a he, and had been hiding and was probably hiding now. Who had been on the Hogwarts Express, which was also a change, or something about him was a change, something that Hermione must have at least witnessed...
It wasn't an accident...Madam Pomfrey was actually murdered...and by a student? Hermione thought, as her train of logic reached a reasonable conclusion. And her older self wanted to leave him alone. The Ravenclaw knew she didn't have all the facts about this Time business, maybe more changes would be so bad that letting a murderer walk free was still better than the alternative. But it certainly didn't feel that way...it made her mistrust her older self's judgement again, her older self who didn't want her to talk to anyone responsible, who had (will have?) Memory Charmed her parents, and it was all so frustrating that she discovered she was shaking a bit. So frustrating that until Madam Wainscott turned to her, she didn't realize she'd actually murmured her thought aloud.
"What?" said the young woman, her face pale. Hermione's own blood drained away as the reality of her slip sunk in. She wanted to say something else, something clever, even to lie, but she couldn't seem to think of any words, she just shook her head in hopeless negation. Nurse Wainscott's expression progressed from alarmed, through stern, even angry for a moment, but then her features softened.
"You're still under the effects of that hex," she said, quietly. In spite of the fortunate reprieve this interpretation offered, the frustrated part of Hermione wanted to shout at her that she'd never been hexed in the first place, and even if she had, this was about the past, not the future. But the horrified part of her was much larger now, and overruled the rest, keeping her jaw clamped firmly shut. Still, something must've shown in her expression, because the nurse continued to elaborate, in a tone that was surely meant to be gentle, but nevertheless felt like someone consoling a young child who'd discovered an uncomfortable truth about Christmas, and this did not help Hermione's mood. "Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster came, of course, they did spells, and later Professors Snape and Flitwick. They all agreed there weren't any people in the room but Madam Pomfrey when I left, and no one else had entered the room until I came back and found her...found her. They were certain. I know your...impressions must feel real, but you must realize that no one, certainly no student would want to hurt Madam Pomfrey, just try to focus on that?"
Hermione wanted to challenge this - what if a student had been "hiding" - but if those four had been certain, Hermione had to assume it was true, at least for the moment. Though she mentally bumped up the priority of looking into forensic spells on her own. But it still didn't rule it out, someone might have managed to arrange the whole thing from outside the room, only using their wand - though this did seem a little far-fetched. Or Imperiused Madam Pomfrey to do it all herself? She didn't know the details of the Unforgivable Curse, but surely it operated at a distance, or it ought to have been much easier to tell when it was being used during You-Know-Who's reign of terror. Or even - and this thought freshly terrified Hermione - Memory Charmed her to forget basic safety protocols of Potion-making.
Though there was still the nurse's very relevant question of motive. Why would a student want to do such a thing? Hermione held a fairly skeptical view of the supposed "innocence" of the average child, but murder went rather beyond casual cruelty. Barring actual psychopathy or something similarly beyond anticipation, she expected it'd take something very strong...true hatred, or mortal fear being most likely. And it did seem likely Madam Wainscott was correct, that no one had any reason she was aware of to hate Madam Pomfrey, she'd been universally respected. Hermione supposed she could have some secret dark past, but that seemed relatively unlikely. And similarly, on the other end, how could a healer cause anyone to fear for their life, when her very purpose was to preserve it?
Hermione knew some people were afraid of doctors in general, or needles, but again, such a thing somehow escalating to a carefully-staged murder seemed very unlikely. Perhaps something she would have discovered in the course of her duties, some condition or injury that would ruin someone's life if revealed. Lycanthropy, maybe? She'd read those afflicted became effective outcasts, even though they were as safe as anyone else most of the month, and no danger the rest of the time if proper precautions were taken. Perhaps some other infectious curse? Infectious…there was something there...had she encountered someone on the train who looked sick?
"Here you go," said the nurse - still gently - holding out a small box, and Hermione frowned a little, both at the tone, and having been startled out of her train of thought. Madam Wainscott had apparently finished the scroll after Hermione had lapsed into introspection. The lid of the box she held was opened to display the contents, which Hermione examined as she accepted it: a small amber bottle - hand-labeled "Liquid Sheep", an eyedropper with gradation marks, a clear jar containing what appeared to be small chocolate sweets, and the scroll with the dosing instructions. If she was interpreting the tiny symbols properly, the eyedropper marks were in "fluid drams", and if she was remembering a chart she'd read once properly, those would be either 3.7 or 3.55 ml each (depending on whether this particular part of magical society was stuck before or after 1824), either of which did look about right for the size of the dropper.
"It's all in the scroll, but you want to stir nine drams of Liquid Sheep into a beverage - cold or hot doesn't matter, as long as it's at least a good cup, then drink the whole thing as quickly as you can. The potion isn't harmful concentrated, but if taken that way some parts of you might fall asleep more quickly than others, which can be disconcerting. It should take effect within only a minute or two, so I'd drink it after you're already in bed. I've included some chocolate covered espresso beans if you wake up groggy - less side effects than a countering potion, just don't go overboard. Try to go to bed early the first time you test it, so in case I've missed the dosage you don't end up missing classes? If you wake up too early to just get up, you can use one or two extra drams to make up the gap."
"Ok. Thank you very much...this is incredibly helpful," Hermione said, nodding. She tried to shake her irritation at not being able to remember something - because she wasn't sure what she was trying to remember, which was really the only reason she'd ever had any difficulty in that department.
"You're welcome. Before you've used up the whole bottle, do try a night occasionally without it to see if things have improved? If not, come back and I'll arrange for a regular supply. And remember, try to focus on your studies, and let the 'future' sort itself out, all right?" Hermione carefully suppressed a scowl, and instead nodded dutifully, not wanting to spoil her otherwise genuine gratitude.
o-o-o
Hermione had debated whether or not to go to the memorial service, but in the end decided to attend. If her older self was in some sense responsible, then logically, so was she. But she was also thinking about her impending "conversation" with herself, and thinking that having just seen Madam Pomfrey's memorial, Older Hermione might be feeling a little more flexible about doing something about it.
By the time she'd returned to the Great Hall, dinner had finished and the furniture had been rearranged. All the tables were set against the sides of the room, while the benches had been turned sideways and set into rows, church-style. It looked like most of the staff were present in the first row, though she didn't see Professor Snape or Professor Quirrell. About a hundred Hogwarts students half-filled the rows behind, mostly older ones as she'd expected. She'd also expected to see more other adults, alumni who wanted to pay their respects, but there were none. Hermione supposed the school was still sealed, so-
The school was sealed, and Madam Pomfrey had been murdered. They knew.
In shock, Hermione half-sat, half-fell onto a bench, just as the Headmaster rose from the seat he'd been waiting in and walked slowly to stand behind a lectern at the front of the Great Hall. A stand to the side, surrounded by flowers, held an animated portrait of Madam Pomfrey, in the hospital wing, looking very professional. Those assembled swiftly fell silent.
Why hadn't they brought in Aurors? If a student had tried to run, it would've been a fairly large clue, and even a seventh-year shouldn't be able to avoid professional law enforcement, considering the advantages of magic. Was it just a...public relations thing? She wasn't sure that made sense, given the publicity Ms. Skeeter was already giving them over the sealing on top of the death. But a murder perpetrated by a student would still be a horrible scandal, she supposed. Yet that would imply they intended to simply allow everyone to go on thinking she'd killed herself accidentally, forever, which seemed a serious injustice even if her murderer was eventually caught.
"We have come here tonight in memory and honor of Madam Poppy Pomfrey. A dedicated Healer. A talented witch. A friend. Poppy came to Hogwarts, Sorted into Gryffindor, in the first year I was privileged to serve as Headmaster. From the very beginning, she had a fierce desire to become a Healer. After her graduation, when she was still in training at St. Mungo's, I chanced to overhear a conversation that I think illustrates her convictions well enough to share it with you."
Hermione began to wonder if holding positions of power and importance, and being very talented with magic actually implied a strong ethical framework. That's how the world ought to work, but...ethics by definition limited the actions you allowed yourself to take, so unethical people would logically be more flexible. Which might translate to being more effective, and thus they would rise naturally, as long as they were careful not to do anything so overt that the ethical people banded together in opposition… Or maybe important people had to look at ethics differently, more consequentially. It wasn't how something felt that mattered, but what ultimately came of it. "The ends justify the means" was a seductive argument to someone who took logic as seriously as Hermione did, but it felt suspiciously seductive.
The line of reasoning so disturbed Hermione that she abandoned the analysis and looked instead for alternative explanations. In what situation would sealing the school make more sense? Well, what if it wasn't a student, but they didn't know who...then making sure they didn't escape would be helpful. At least if you didn't count locking a murderer into a school full of children. And it still wouldn't make sense to not bring in Aurors. Unless they had, and they were just investigating secretly somehow, Disillusioned, or posing as students?
"Someone, upon discovering her House affiliation, noted surprise, since they would have expected a person so devoted to helping others to have been a shoo-in for Hufflepuff. Poppy replied that most people were good-hearted, so when someone was injured, or sick, it was natural for anyone to want to help them. But to her mind, for her to be the best Healer she could be, she had to be able to still do it, and do it well, when things seemed bleak, when times were bad, when she was alone. That illness, injury and death had to be challenged at every turn, even if the battle, in the end, was hopeless. That when you saw that the world ought to be better, you fought to make it so."
The thoughts she'd been using to try to manage her shock at the staff's apparent complicity in a cover-up -as well as to distract herself from the uncomfortable emotions of the memorial - scattered. Hermione was surprised to feel tears running down her cheeks, and wondered if they were hers, or hers. But she didn't think it mattered. Tears were a way of giving feelings honor and voice when you didn't have the words, and Madam Pomfrey deserved them. She did not look around, but from the soft sounds among those gathered, she wasn't alone.
"Godric himself might have worded it thus, and when the Hat placed Poppy in Gryffindor, it Sorted truly. I recalled this conversation vividly a few years after, when Poppy applied for the open position of Hogwarts Matron, and I was delighted to take her on. It is in no mean part due to her tireless efforts these past twenty-two years that Hogwarts' reputation for student safety has remained the envy of Europe."
"If she were here today to advise us, I believe she would tell us to seek what comforts we can find, for grief is a wound as deep as any other, as important to heal, even if the best treatment is slow. I believe she would tell us that leading long, healthy lives would be the best way to honor her memory. Hogwarts, and over a thousand of her students, present and past, owe much to Madam Poppy Pomfrey. Her loss is felt keenly, and she will not be forgotten." The portrait of Madam Pomfrey dabbed at her eyes a bit with a corner of her apron and gave a brief, tremulous smile in the Headmaster's direction, along with a single sharp nod.
People getting murdered - people dying in general - was wrong, Hermione decided, her tears still flowing freely even as determination firmed into her expression. The world, indeed, ought to be better, and it didn't matter how hard it was, or whose responsibility it was supposed to be, or even how old you were.
It was time to fight.