Hermione gasped, and a shiver ran down her spine as the curse hit, this was nothing like a spider or toad. The rush of power she'd become accustomed to with the killing curse seemed amplified exponentially with a human target; it was as though she could feel the life leaving her victim. She just stood there, eyes glazed over as she basked in the feel, the aura, of the unforgivable curse.
"Hermione!"
Her name being yelled in her face startled her back to the world, and her gaze focused in on Professor Moody standing in front of her.
"Busy day?" He asked with a knowing look, and shoved a glass into her hand. "Drink. I know that look Miss Granger, there's one less person in the world than there was this mornin'. But don't let it go to your head, can't have you running around killin' everything that moves." He finished by giving her hand a nudge.
Confused, she looked down at the small glass of amber liquid, and took a sniff: It stung her nostrils. Taking a deep breathe, she downed the firewhiskey in one gulp; and immediately coughed as it burned its way down her throat.
The Moody look-alike just chuckled and refilled her glass.
She sat quietly for a few minutes, watching the light filtering through the alcohol. Then she swallowed the second glassful without coughing, but felt a little fuzzy before too long. "I..." she started to speak, then stopped and frowned, looking around his office. "How did I get here?"
"Fine elf you've got yourself there," he told her. "Brought you down here after that little task you set her."
Her brow furrowed as she looked at her once again full glass. "How did you..."
"Marvelous creatures, acromantulas." He interrupted.
She locked eyes with him for a moment and smirked, then nodded in reply. A thought occurred to her a moment later, "how do you know about the acromanitolleh?" Her eye's flicked to her glass again, "this shtuff is evil." She drained the glass again.
Barty chuckled at her antics, "Your elf was worried, and told me the story when she brought you down here."
Hermione looked at him as that sunk in to her fuzzy head, "My..." suddenly her eyes widened, "I bound her to me! And... Fipsy!" She called.
With a pop the little elf appeared in the room, "Mistress called Fipsy?!" She asked with great pleasure in her voice.
Hermione blinked and focused on the elf standing before her, even more devotion showing in its bulging eyes than usual. "You're not to speak a word of what's happened today to anyone, understood?"
Fipsy's ears flopped about as she nodded enthusiastically, "Yes Mistress, when Fipsy brought Mistress here Professor Moody said to be extra quiet about the bad witch Fipsy gave to the spiders."
Hermione nodded, but paused after a moment. "Actually," she added, "you're not to tell anyone anything I do. Not just about today."
The little elf's ears continued to flop about, "Mistress said not to say who Mistress is, and to be careful what Fipsy says, but Fipsy won't say a word about Mistress to anyone."
Hermione didn't remember saying any of that, but then again she barely remembered bonding with the young elf. That curse, or it's aftermath, had been... she didn't think there was a word for it. She'd never felt that powerful after a spell though, the rush had been... She interrupted herself by draining another glass of whiskey.
"Stealing Hogwarts elves too?" Barty asked, a wickedly amused smile showing on his stolen face.
"I don't really remember doing it, actually." Hermione responded with a shake of her head. "She told me she was only just old enough to be bonded; wasn't going to happen till September though." A huff, that was verging on a snort-laugh escaped her. "Bloody elf was dropping hints all over," she said with an amused grin. "Guess she got what she wanted."
"Never underestimate a house elf," Barty raised his glass to her.
She followed him with the drink, then snorted. "Obviously Malfoy never learnt that."
Barty's eyes narrowed at her comment, "what's young Mr Malfoy been up to with the elves then?"
Hermione shook her head at him, "not Draco, his da-father." She spoke the last word in a mimic of the blonde Slytherin boy's snooty tones. "Back in second year, he slipped a diary that belonged to he-wh... Vol... uh," she paused a moment, and looked at Barty. "What do you call him?"
"The Dark Lord."
"Right, the Dark Lord. Mr Malfoy slipped his diary to Ginny Weasley, it possessed her, she released a basilisk on the school... petrification, mayhem, you get the idea." She waved her hand about. "Anyway, apparently Mr. Malfoy's house elf warned Harry about it. Harry tricked Malfoy into freeing the elf, after he killed the basilisk." She stopped, and her gaze turned to a glare seemingly directed at her glass. Dropping it on the table, she started pacing apparently working herself up to something that burst out moments later. "'Course it was me that worked out what was petrifying everyone, no one else had any idea. Not that I got any thanks, oh no!" Her voice was growing in volume as she continued. "Dumbledore gets his job back, Hagrid gets out of Azkaban, Hogwarts is all safe again and what do I get? Exams are cancelled! They stick me with the same bloody marks as those no good half-blood, traitorous, barely-more-than-a-squib 'housemates' that..."
"Drink!" He cut her off mid-rant.
She glared at him for interrupting, but downed the whiskey in one swig; quickly followed by another at his urging look.
"Better?" He asked, watching her intently.
Her eye's narrowed, "You trying to get me drunk?"
"Do you feel drunk Miss Granger?"
"It's Dagworth-Granger!" She almost-screamed, her wand appearing in her hand, "My rightful name! Not that tainted half-name..."
"Drink!" He interrupted her again, hands up showing he was unarmed.
She glared at him further, wand twitching.
"You're burning it off faster than you're drinking." He informed her, and continued when she took a drink. "You don't go throwing around Killing Curses without some backlash Miss Dagworth-Granger."
She lowered her wand just a bit, and swallowed another glassful.
"First time's the hardest, Killing Curse gets right down into you. Tears you up a bit, releases parts of your magic you never even knew you had before." He waved a finger in an upward motion, and waited for her to take another drink before continuing. "That should dull you down a bit so you don't go out and kill half the school. Why'd you think those curses were banned anyway?" He asked, but didn't give her time to answer. "Power Miss G... Dagworth-Granger..."
"For Merlin's sake Barty, just call me Hermione." She snapped at him.
"Drink." He told her again.
She did so, her glare not quite as harsh as it had been.
"I know you felt it, Hermione, your eyes showed it in that first class; and now it's running right through you, not second hand but straight from your own wand. Power, like I said, with curses like that you have to want to hurt, kill, or control so much that when you do it feeds back into you. Those curses were banned because duellers would get so overcome they'd either run off and kill 'emselves..." he trailed off as a feral grin spread across his face. "Or take out the whole village." He paused again, and motioned her to keep drinking. "It's obvious which you're in the mood for."
Hermione's expression darkened, as her grin grew to match his. Barty didn't let her speak though, commanding her to drink once more. She did, and he continued.
"You need to learn to control that feeling, control yourself; when you can do that, you can start trying to focus it when you need it." He stood up, and took a book off the shelf. "You're excused from classes for the day, I'll inform your professors. Stay in my office till I tell you you can leave, keep drinking till you're calm, and read this." He handed her the book.
Running her hand down the book's spine out of habit, Hermione turned it around and read the title: Guide to Advanced Occlumency. "I've read a bit about this," she said with a faint frown showing. "There's not much about it in the library though. Is it dark?"
Barty's chuckled softly at her again, "Is there anything you haven't read about?" He asked with humour clear in his voice.
"Probably," Hermione shrugged, then grinned at him, "but ask me again after seventh year."
He grinned back and nudged her glass toward her. "No, it's not dark. Obscure though, far from a common magic. Start with the basics: Clear your mind; no thought, no emotion. There's good exercises in there," he tapped the book, "that you won't find in the simpler texts. Read it, practice it every moment you can; even if you're busy with other things."
"Constant vigilance?"
He snorted at her. "Right. Occlumency will not only help you control the effects of Dark Curses Mi-Hermione, it's also to protect your mind. You don't want anyone catching on to what you've been up to do you?"
Hermione's eyes widened at the thought, and she looked down at the book in her hands.
Barty nodded at her, "Exactly."
"You don't like Malfoy." Hermione said as she was packing things away before dinner. "Why? I thought with his dad being... like you, it just... I don't understand it." She'd probably drunk a little more than necessary to just calm down, and her thoughts were wandering. Plus she now had a bit of a headache from the occlumency practice.
"I'm nothing like him," he snapped. "There's nothing I hate more than a Death Eater who walked free. They turned their backs on my Master when he needed them most. I expect he'll punish them, torture them for their betrayal. I hope so, it's nothing less than a traitor deserves." He growled at her, the deep seated hatred echoing in every word. "Lucius will get what's coming to him, I'm sure. Same with that coward of a son of his too." He looked Hermione in the eyes, "No, I don't like Malfoys, any of them: Can't trust 'em, can't rely on 'em. They talk fancy, but they're just worthless, traitorous, cowards the lot of them."
Hermione just nodded, in agreement and understanding; her experiences with Draco matching what he said, for the most part. She slipped the occlumency book into her bag in silence, covering it with some parchment just in case.
Barty, in his Professor disguise as usual, unlocked the door and let her out into the hallway, where they went their separate ways to the Great Hall for dinner.
"Miss Granger!"
Hermione twitched slightly at the sound of her half-name in the firm, yet kindly and familiar voice of her Head of House.
"Professor Moody told me about the nightmares," the old witch said quietly once she was close enough to keep her tone hushed. "I trust the lessons he gave you today will help?"
"Oh, um, yes. I mean they should, I just... it's..." Hermione kept her eyes down, as she thought wildly, trying to work out just what Professor McGonagall was on about.
Fortunately, the Professor seemed to mistake Hermione's nervous stuttering for something to do with whatever these nightmares were, and rested a hand on Hermione's upper arm in a show of comfort. "I'm sorry you couldn't come to me, and that I put you in that position. We apparently didn't think through the ill effects of the task enough, but the occlumency should help you sleep better before too long - if you pick it up as well as you do most other things." She finished with a faint but warm smile, before dropping her arm.
"Th-thank you Professor." Hermione answered with a small smile of her own. They didn't speak much more, just bidding each other a good night, before Hermione wandered off to her dorm at the Professor's gentle urging.
Over the next few weeks, the Urns sat empty for the first time in months. Hermione was finding the beetles and spiders somewhat lacking now. Oh, they were all well and good for trying out a new spell, but the feel was weak; nothing like the rush she'd felt from Skeeter's death. Having lost interest in the small animals, Hermione studied her occlumency book, and focused more on her family magics.
The occlumency practice had been going well, Barty had told her that her mind now seemed to be at least partially shielded, when she concentrated; though he warned her that he wasn't particularly skilled in legilimency. She could feel the calm he'd spoken of too, emotions locked away, but ready to be let out at a moment's notice.
It had also helped with her studies, she found herself even less likely to be distracted than usual, but still with a sense of what was happening around her. A more organised mind seemed to help in many ways, she thought to herself as she pulled out her volume of Dagworth magics, then turned to the section she'd been reading the night before.
"Fipsy," she called, hoping her elf could clarify some things for her.
The little elf popped into the room wearing a black and green tea towel, "Mistress call..."
Hermione held up a finger to shush the excitable elf. "When I call you, I want you to come promptly - which you already do," she smiled and lay a hand warmly on the elf's head. "And then wait quietly until I speak."
Fipsy's ears flopped about as she nodded, seeming to grow more excited at the idea of the new rule from her Mistress.
Hermione slid the book over to the elf, "I want you to read this, and tell me what you think." She said, and watched as her elf sat down on the ground, pulling the book into her lap. She was pleased to note how carefully Fipsy handled the tome, obviously aware of it's significance. A smile pulled across Hermione's face as she heard the elf talking quietly to herself - something about a "great Mistress" and "being asked her opinion by a witch" - while reading through the pages.
A small frown started to appear on the elf as she read the text, then apparently flicked back to the beginning and read again.
"Fipsy?" Hermione asked, as the elf started to flicker back and forth between pages.
The young elf looked up at her Mistress with a more serious look than Hermione had ever seen, "Mistress, this is elfs magic." She explained after a moment, a hint of confusion colouring her usual bubbly tone.
"Yes, that's why I wanted your opinion on it. Do you think I could do it?"
Fipsy stood up and handed the book back, "Fipsy isn't sure Mistress, elfs magic needs a bond to work."
"But you were able to do it before I bound you to me?" Hermione asked, a little unsure.
The familiar sight of a floppy-eared nod was followed by an explanation. "Fipsy had a purpose, sometimes what Fipsy was told to do by Fipsy's mummy, and sometimes to find someone to serve. But Fipsy always had a purpose, elfs need a purpose to do magic. A bond gives a constant purpose for elfs, but if a elf believes something is important that can work too, as long as it's to help someone else."
Hermione nodded as she took that in, "So..." she paused, putting together exactly what she wanted to ask. "If I wanted to do it just to learn, that wouldn't be enough? But if I wanted to learn so I could help someone, that would?"
"If you was an elf Mistress, yes. But Fipsy doesn't know how it would work for a witch." She seemed a little sad at not being able to answer fully.
A pat on the head was all it took to bring a smile back to the elf's face though. "Thank you Fipsy, you've been a very helpful elf, you can go back to the kitchens and work now."
Dropping a quick curtsey the little elf popped out of the room.
Hermione watched her go with more than the usual intrigue, then turned to re-read the few pages the elf had just helped her with; pondering the idea of a purpose for others, that would help her as much as them.