I didn't give them the satisfaction.
"So what else does the Red Potion do?"
Yes. I actually changed the topic.
Contrary to popular belief, winning arguments and beating people verbally to the ground was not my aim in life. What was the point? I was surrounded by superficial, narrow minded morons whose concept of Good and Bad was so surface – skimming I'm surprised they can learn different spells without questioning the motives.
Personally, I did not care about what people thought of me – as long as said opinions did not affect my flawless reputation with people of power – right now, my professors, but one day, the corrupted ministers.
If I offered my argument, it would pass straight to Dumbledore.
I expected Granger to look put off, but she just seemed bored. The reactions of the others, however, was more than satisfactory – disappointment.
"Nightmares," she went on. "It is actually ironic that you thought the potion represents optimism, because every taker so far has reported vivid nightmares."
It seemed that the day's surprises would never cease to pop out, because I felt very ashamed for being unaware of such a vital piece of information. I voiced this. "I didn't know that."
"We all make mistakes," Slughorn finally decided to interject jovially, "But excellent assessment, Ms Granger."
I happen to have the ability to pay attention loyally in class, and yet think of something else entirely. To say that my mind was consumed by thoughts of a pair of intelligent, fierce, sad brown eyes would be an understatement.
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There was actually a time when I and Dumbledore got along. Fantastically, in fact.
Back then, it amused him that I was so interested in the various branches of magic. He used to give me advice, drop friendly quotations and enquire about my summer plans whenever he passed me in the corridors.
"If there is one thing that magic cannot do," he once told me, "Its understanding people. You could use Veritaserum, but even then there would be secrets that the person themselves weren't aware of."
"So we can't understand anyone, then, Professor?" I asked, pure in intention.
"Well, you can try," he said, "And though you can't decipher them completely, if you care enough, you'll get somewhere.
'But remember, there are some people you simply cannot understand, no matter how interested you are. They are always full of mysteries.
'Unfortunately, these people always end up being an important aspect of your life."
"Like what, Professor?"
"Oh, anybody who could matter. A friend, an enemy, a lover, a mother, a teacher." His eyes twinkled. "You need these people to hold you back from going too far. Because no matter how much you hate limits, they have to be there. Good night."
It wasn't that Granger was the only mysterious person I'd ever met. There was Abraxas, a friend; there was Cassandra Bolarden, the girl I was attracted to, who always acknowledged me politely. There was Dumbledore, who, if not an enemy, stood in my way.
But I didn't know what Granger was capable of being to me. Although, I did seem to remember that she was my slave.
"Return these to the library," I said half cheerfully, handing her a stack of seven monstrous books (I honestly don't understand why people don't use levitation spells. Its like they want their life to be complicated). "With your bare hands. No spells."
"Why the hell would I – "and then she winced in pain, clutching at her neck. The spell was reminding her that she was my slave. "Fine."
She seemed to be walking awfully slowly for someone who was capable of carrying fifteen books from the library on her first day, once she found out there was no limit. "Granger, don't peer at the category. You can't take it. And tell her I'm sick."
She huffed, and marched away with the books.
"You seem like you've had practice," Abraxas said thoughtfully.
"At what?"
"Ordering people about. Was that your first command?"
"We headed for the Great Hall. "Yes."
"Well, you'd make a good lord someday. I'm sure you wouldn't even have to torture people into obeying you. You're smooth."
"If you weren't my ally, I'd smack you for forgetting so soon that I had to make her Promise. Smooth, indeed."
Abraxas (as I had predicted) scheduled the "Arithmancy homework at library" session the next day. We sat down for dinner, exchanged any new spells we had learnt – people were still shocked I had convinced him to read more – and I started feeling a little tense.
With every trip that Granger stole to the library, the possibility of her finding a Reverse was increasing.
It was clear that I viewed her as an obstacle, but there was also a part of me that believed she wouldn't kill me. That her decision to try the first time had been impulsive. Like she's seen much more of the world than me.
She walked into the hall and Abraxas was about to call out to her…and she walked straight to the Gryffindor table.
I'm not joking. I don't even know if I'm capable.
I looked at Malfoy, and he nodded numbly. We dove under the table, whispered, "Magnifero Hermione," and sat straight.
We had learnt the spell a few weeks before, at a library in Diagon Alley. On saying a name, we'd not only be able to hear the person's voice, but also the sounds they hear – you could follow conversations, and the voices would ring only in your ears.
Of course, we also had to peer at the Gryffindor table to know who said what.
"Hello," said my slave (okay, I have got to learn how to suppress my triumph).
"I'm not even going to ask you what you want," said Septimus Weasely, bored. "Get lost."
"Why do you hate me?" she asked, hurt.
"You're a Slytherin," said Martha Brown. "And Slytherins are cunning."
Granger regarded her. "Hi, Martha." The table hissed at her judicial use of first name. "You're in my Potions, and a few other classes, right?"
"Yeah."
She bent forward. "Is it safe to say you value intelligence?"
"Of course she does," Artemis Logan spoke proudly. "Smartest Gryffindor there is."
"Do you remember what the Sorting Hat said about Slytherin, back when you were in first year?"
"Those cunning folk will do anything to achieve their means."
"And? Resourcefulness and ambition. That can't be ignored."
"Oh, yes, ambition is a wonderful trait," Weasely said sarcastically, "How did you know that, anyway?"
"Headmaster," she answered easily. "But the Sorting Hat didn't mention evil, did it?"
"It's implied," said Brown. "You're ambitious, and you'd kill to get what you want."
"What if I was ambitious to stop war?" she said. "What if I'd rather use my cunning to fool enemies, for the greater good?"
They stared at her. "She's got a point," Megal Longbottom said slowly, " But you're still surrounded by prejudiced purebloods. It'll rub off on you."
"My parents died in the Muggle war, because they willingly got involved," she said. "And I think it's safe to say sometimes parents have more of an influence than peers."
There was a horrible silence. But I kept mine for a whole new reason.
Wasn't the "My parents died in muggle war" story created by me? Was it fake Veritaserum?
Or was our back up excuse for her not very different from the truth?
Some of the Slytherins began to call out to her, but she just stood there.
"Now will you ask me what I want?" Weasely nodded. "I want to be your friend. Or an ally, if you will."
They stared at her like she was raving mad. "How can we trust you?" Logan asked the million dollar question.
"I'd like to say I will do whatever you ask," she started, "But right now, I am in the control of the other Slytherins. However, I wouldn't let them take over my actions completely. I'll answer your questions about my views and motives, as long as you don't ask any questions about my actual life."
And before anyone could ask her how they could possibly believe her, she took something out of her robe, and kept it in her palm in such a manner, only their table could see it.
"Veritaserum," Brown breathed.
"What's the point in knowing her views, though?" asked Weasely.
"It's important to know her intentions," Brown explained. She faced Granger. "Sit at our table for a while. After we're done, you can go back to yours."
She didn't make place for her immediately. They got into a secret huddle, whispers of, "Are you sure?" thrown around, and scooted over to let her sit. She sat gratefully.
The Slytherins were more curious than angry. Maybe she did have a cunning plan. They didn't know about the conversation, after all.
But deep inside I knew the girl wouldn't hurt just anybody. These Gryffindors were stuck up, annoying and just plain stupid, but their idea of Good, albeit narrow minded, was strongly backed up by the whole lot, and they were far more capable of kindness and acceptance than my own house.
Though, you really can't beat Hufflepuff in those categories.
She made a brief motion with her hand, so must have consumed the contents of the vial. She took precautions to not let the Professors see the vial – which was quite probable, because no one could resist seeing the spectacle.
"What do you think of blood prejudice?" Logan asked immediately. He was a muggleborn himself.
"I think its shit," she answered bluntly. "You know, there are no genuine reasons why certain purebloods hate muggleborns. One, the oh-so-unworthy mudbloods are going to steal their jobs. Okay, maybe that's not true for everyone," she continued, "But they are convinced that because they've had a more consistent heritage, they have a larger and stronger magical potential. But no one has realised that the first people on earth, would have had to be one wizard and one muggle."
"Why?" Weasely asked, confused.
"Think about it. You supposedly have two types of human beings – one with magic and one without it. If there were only two people in the beginning, and both were purebloods, there would be no muggles at all. And has anyone tried to figure out why we have squibs? At some point, mixing up just has to have happened."
They all nodded, but I noticed a flaw in Granger's theory. There was no solid proof that the first human beings were a pair, at the beginning of time. Wasn't that just a belief? Maybe it was because she was pureblood – but I'm surprised that she hasn't tried reading into muggle culture and science. Life could have very well started from bacteria.
But she wasn't just talking about first beings, I realised, she was talking about the last stages of evolution, when something definite as "man" arose, when the need to mate arose. According to her theory, magical potential was present in humans only at this stage. It was flawed, but it went along with the Wizarding concept of Adam and Eve, and that seemed enough for them.
"What is your ambition in life?" Brown asked.
Granger sighed, knowing that even if she could fight the serum, it would defeat the purpose of trying to befriend them. "I'm going to hold back someone from making big mistakes. I admit, at first I thought the problem would be over if I killed them, but that didn't work out. Now I'm trying to figure out what I should do, but all I know is that I've decided to make myself a part of their lives."
It was obvious who she was talking about.
A million questions fleeted my mind. What mistakes? Why was it a problem? What does she mean, "Make myself a part of their lives?"
I didn't dare look at Malfoy.
"Look, I'm not going to ask you about this person," said Weasely, "But answer me this. What is this person going to end up doing?"
"Cause unimaginable misery to others," she said quietly.
Was she serious?
I'm not a very gentle hearted person, but I never really bothered to hurt other people. Yes, sometimes my mind when to such levels of hateful thoughts I'm surprised I'm not feeling guilty it, but I always kept my thoughts to myself.
Didn't anyone bloody believe I have self control anymore?
In fact, it's all I'm known for, apart from my extra reading. Cold hearted. Unresponsive. Controlled.
"Then that's a good enough cause for me," Weasely said firmly. At his friends shocked looks at his readiness to accept her, he explained, "You know me, guys. I judge people based on what they fight for. She may or may not like this person, but she knows he is wrong." Idiots. Idiots give me headaches. Who is anyone to decide what's wrong? It's not like I've killed anyone.
He doesn't count.
Nor did the other bubbly gossip girl at the bathroom.
"Guess we can't question Veritaserum," Longbottom mumbled. "All right, tell me this. What do you hate?"
"War. People who mistreat house elves, werewolves and other magical creatures. Evil gits who take pleasure from hurting others and deserve a good Sunburn hex to the bum."
They chuckled, now looking genuinely impressed. But Logan wasn't convinced. "Well, so far, you're giving us the impression you're quite brave. You're smart. In some twisted way, you're loyal. So why were you put into Slytherin?"
I didn't think any sensible person could answer that, but Granger was either a complete lunatic, or a complete genius. "Because I asked it to."
The former option has officially been locked.
In a way, though, she might have had a few reasons to ask it to put her in this House. A dead parent's obligation. Melting the hearts of the coldest first and later the warmest.
Increasing the possibility of seeing me dead.
Weasely choked on his drink. Longbottom looked horrified. Brown was smart enough to ask, "Whatever for?"
"Because the person I'm trying to hold back is there," she said, "And when everything has been taken from you, you don't want to see another make more mistakes."
"What has been taken from you?"
"Artemis! We made a deal, we don't ask her personal questions," Brown chided, but Granger, struggling to fight it, gave in. "My parents. My best friend," she choked out. "The love of my life."
Oh.
Well. This is awkward.
She isn't stable now. Not the mentally unstable sort of unstable, but the I-have-nothing-to-lose unstable.
Dumbledore had easily manipulated her into hating me.
In a way, it made me feel a little better. She didn't hate me, exactly. She was trying to do the noble thing – and convinced herself she was doing the "right" thing – but at the end of the day, she didn't know me, nor tried to.
"We're very sorry," Brown said gently, and Logan nodded solemnly.
She wiped away tears – tears – and smiled weakly. "I'm going to be all right. I'm not going to lie – more like I can't – I'm not fine now, but one day I will be."
"Tom," Abraxas whispered. "I think I've heard enough."
I nodded, and with a flick of our wands, we tuned out.
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She came back, flushed and happy in a way that made you notice. It was a change, seeing a girl wearing green around her neck smile so freely and naturally. We weren't known for our display of emotions.
Then again, she didn't belong here. She just chose to.
Malfoy had warned the other Slytherins not to question her, as she was doing a very smart thing by making allies out of people, and that it was none of their business, but Avery just couldn't shut up.
"Hermione," he whined. "What were you doing?"
"Talking, obviously."
This brought out a round of sniggers, but Avery wasn't in the least displeased. She had made it sound so good natured, it was refreshing for even the dimmest of souls.
"Why?"
"I don't want to leave this school with enemies, and I want to start a year early," she said firmly. "More the friends, more the comfort when I get a job and settle down."
Some of them bristled at her last line. I would have, a week ago. But right now, it didn't come to me as a surprise that an intelligent woman like Granger would want a career. It wasn't exactly unheard of. Just didn't happen often.
"Or, you could join our group," Avery moved on, his voice taking a dose of darkness and something that attempted to be seductive but made his voice crack instead. "We've started a club against mudbloods. Practice cool spells, all that. Abraxas here isn't joining only because his father was insistent on keeping his views to himself – which is understandable, really, just not a lifestyle meant for us. But this loser," he pointed at me, "Apart from being one of the fewest half bloods in Slytherin, is the only boy who wouldn't join. But, we'd always make place for an intelligent girl like you, Hermione."
All right.
This is going to sound mighty queer, and I'm never going to say it again.
But right now, I wanted to get out of my seat, hug Avery, and twirl him in the air.
Because he had just backed me up. I would now appear ten times less evil in Granger's eyes, and she'd go tell the redhead anorexic Santa Clause.
(Dumbledore.)
(Don't ask me how I know what "anorexia" means.)
She was first startled. "Riddle isn't in it?" Then accepting. "Riddle isn't in it." Then very visibly furious, and for a moment I wondered if the Veritaserum was still in effect. If Avery asked her what she thought, she might actually let him have it. "No, Maddex. I'm too depressed, and my parents just died, and-"
What she said next probably killed her.
"-I'm a girl. Not as strong as you."
Avery didn't argue, just pleased.
God, idiots really do give me headaches.
"I understand," he said, very openly staring at everything but her face.
"Good luck, though," she said sweetly, and looked down, focusing on her pudding.
Though I could have sworn she said, "Riddle isn't in it," between spoonfuls.
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