Disclaimer in chapter one
A/N: And another chapter finished. I think I'm gonna edit this one at some point later, but I'm too tired right now to go over it again. Good news is that I already wrote a whole lot for the next chapter. So I probably won't disappear for a few months again :D that's something.
But anyway, enjoy the chapter and let me know what you think ^^ Of course huge THANK YOU to all the reviewers in last chapter:
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Chapter Thirty Two: The Lady of the Lake
Hermione hastened through the maze of servants' tunnels down into the bowels of Hogwarts' castle. Apparently, Slughorn had asked for her to sort and clean up the storage for the potions ingredients. Hermione wasn't really looking forward to the task. She didn't mind the actual work, but she didn't really want to talk with her former professor. Not now that she was nothing but a servant.
Hermione dragged her feet as she neared the storage room. Reluctantly, she knocked at the door. Hopefully, Slughorn would have mercy on her and let her work in peace. Hermione sighed tiredly as she entered the storage room. Head bent in the customary bow, she greeted,
"Master Slughorn. You asked for me."
Unfortunately, it wasn't the professor's booming voice that replied, "I did. Glad you could make it."
Hermione's head shot up and was met by steely grey eyes. Platinum blond hair shone in the dim light of the room while a customary smirk hung from his lips. Draco Malfoy eyed her with cruel satisfaction. Hermione's blood ran cold as she stared at her former master.
"M- master Malfoy," she whispered, trying to regain her composure. "What…? What can I do for you?"
The vicious smirk on the blond's face even widened and Hermione wondered if it was too late to turn and run. Draco pushed away from the table he'd been leaning against and sauntered over to her, eyes shining maliciously. Hermione tensed as he stopped in front of her. The familiarity of this situation made fear creep up on her, but she refused to cower away from Draco. Instead, she met his ice cold gaze head-on.
"My, my, you've changed Hermione Rookwood," the Slytherin drawled, scorn in his voice.
He raised a hand and Hermione shuddered as he skimmed his fingers over the fabric of her dress, tugging at her short sleeve. Draco grinned evilly. "You curiously remind me of a little Mudblood I've misplaced some time ago."
Hermione's mouth thinned to an angry line and she pressed out, "Very curious."
"Indeed," Draco purred. "What a small world."
He flashed her his white teeth in an eerie smile and now his fingers ran over her curly hair. Hermione had to hold herself back from pushing his hand away from her. Draco could probably see how uncomfortable she was, because his eyes shone with sadistic amusement.
"You know," he simpered, a cruel undercurrent in his light tone. "I had a bit of a crush on Hermione Rookwood."
Hermione tensed and her eyes widened as his fingers curled around her wrist and he abruptly pulled her against him. He held her in place as he whispered into her ear,
"I think all the Slytherin guys had. Well, some of the girls, too…"
Hermione shied away from his closeness, hands pushing against his chest. Draco didn't allow her much movement. One hand grasped her by the waist, the other painfully held her by the back of her neck. His voice was still eerily light as he told her,
"It's disgusting." His fingers viciously tightened around her neck. "How dare you prance around like one of us, you filthy Mudblood?"
With that he brutally shoved Hermione away from him. The next thing she knew, Draco had slapped her around the face and she crashed against the wall. His cold laughter washed over her. Cheek throbbing sharply, Hermione peered up at him. An unsavoury grin hung from his lips as Draco hissed,
"Welcome back, Penny."
That name… Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. She could barely breathe around the lump in her throat. Her whole life she'd been Penny, the worthless slave girl. Her eyes shot up to the arrogant Slytherin. The disdainful look on his face fuelled Hermione's anger.
"Penny's gone!" she snarled. "You stay away from me."
Draco wasn't at all impressed by her tone. A dark look crossed his face and he hissed, "Watch how you talk to me, you're still my Mudblood."
Hermione crinkled her nose in disgust and snapped heatedly, "I'm not your anything."
Draco smirked at her and scoffed, "What? You think Riddle's gonna swoop in to save you again?"
He took a swift step towards Hermione and grabbed her chin, forcing her head up so she had to look at him.
"Riddle doesn't give a fuck about you," Draco sneered cruelly. "In case you didn't notice, he's done playing with you."
Hermione angrily pushed his hand away from her. "I don't need Tom to help me."
Draco completely ignored her protest and decided ruthlessly, "You're coming with me back to the manor, Penny. And if I hear another word out of you, I'm going to make you regret it."
The threat made Hermione take a step away from him. A hint of panic was ridging her tone as she snapped. "I'm not coming back to you. Stay the hell away from me!"
With that she turned around, intending to bolt. Draco had other plans, though, and grabbed her by the arm. Hermione tried to pull away from his hold. As that didn't work, she kicked him in the chin. Draco hissed and stumbled a step away. Before Hermione could use her chance, though, he raised a hand and slapped her again.
"How dare you?!" Draco snarled furiously.
Hermione gasped in pain as he grabbed a handful of her hair and wrenched her closer. Fear and adrenaline rushing through her, she desperately tried to get away from him.
"Stop it!" Draco ordered threateningly.
As if to reinforce his statement, he shook Hermione brutally. With grim determination, she fought against him. Relentlessly, Draco grabbed her right arm and twisted it behind her back. He twirled her around and brutally pushed her against the stone wall, pressing his body into her back so she couldn't move away. The joint of her shoulder burned achingly as Draco put more of his weight on her right arm and Hermione whimpered in pain.
"I'm going to curse you for this," he hissed into her ear. "What do you think? What curse shall I use? Hm? Cruciatus? Maybe I'm gonna cut out your tongue first. That'll stop your backtalk."
The threat was very clear and panic was starting to overwrite Hermione. Desperately, she struggled against his grip. Draco's hand tightened warningly around her wrist and he put even more pressure on her shoulder. Hermione cried out in pain.
"Stop struggling," he commanded sharply.
Heart hammering away in her chest, Hermione closed her eyes. Her whole body went limp and she desisted from fighting against the Slytherin. Her forehead leaned against the stone wall and she took in a deep breath of air. Draco, delighted by her surrender, laughed cruelly,
"Much better."
Hermione's right arm was still twisted behind her back. She could feel her shoulder smarting where the joint was overstretched. Her heart raced in her chest as Draco held her in place.
She couldn't go back to Malfoy manor.
Hermione didn't really consider her next actions. She raised the hand that Draco wasn't keeping imprisoned and put it against the wall. Then, using all the strength she had left, Hermione forcefully pushed herself away from the wall. Draco hadn't expected any resistance anymore and lost his balance as Hermione pressed on. He still held to her right arm and she felt the pressure on the joint increasing. There was a grinding sensation in the shoulder, followed by sharp pain and a popping sound as the humerus joint head sprung out of the socket. Hermione ignored the blinding pain and used her other arm to ram her elbow backwards. She was rewarded by a painful groan and finally Draco released her right arm. Without hesitation, Hermione whipped around to him. The Slytherin was hunched forward, painfully holding his stomach. As he looked up, though, Hermione saw the fury glinting in his grey eyes. Baring his teeth in a snarl, he hissed,
"You're going to regret this."
Probably, Hermione thought, but couldn't bring herself to care. She raised her left hand, balled into a fist, and with all the force she could muster punched Draco in the face. There was a satisfying crunching sound coming from his nose. Draco howled in pain and raised a hand trying to stem the blood flowing from his nose. For a second, Hermione just stared at him with wide eyes.
Then, before he could regain his bearings, she turned, threw open the door and ran away.
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Hours after her encounter with Draco, the sharp pain in Hermione's shoulder had ebbed to a constant throbbing ache. Delicately, she held her arm pressed against her chest as she stood in front of the huge fireplace in the kitchens. Around her the other Mudbloods were busy, cleaning or cooking, but Hermione had eyes only for the small crest carved into the stone of the fireplace. She'd never noticed it before.
The Baron had been right after all. Hermione smiled softly as she ran a finger over Hufflepuff's crest. Soot had blackened the stone over the time, almost completely hiding the small crest. Hermione felt a concealment charm and several other minor protection spells tingling under her fingers. It wouldn't take long to work around them if only she had a wand. Hermione sighed tiredly.
"There you are," a voice cut through her contemplation.
Hermione glanced at Dobby standing beside her. The man's eyes wandered over her, lingering at her shoulder. Concern wrapped around his voice, he asked, "Are you feeling better?"
Hermione nodded, throwing him a smile. "Yes. Thanks again for taking care of me."
Dobby waved her thanks away. "Think nothing of it. I really wish things like that wouldn't happen to us." The man sadly shook his head. "'s just not right. Hurting girls like that."
Hermione looked back at the Hufflepuff's crest. The smile on her face grew sharper as she confessed, "I punched Malfoy."
"What?!" Dobby cried in shock. "No, you didn't! Penny?!"
His eyes were widened in panic as he stared at her. Hermione couldn't help but chuckle. The fear on Dobby's face was very valid, she knew. Draco would want revenge. Still, Hermione didn't regret her actions. The pompous git had deserved it. It had actually felt pretty good.
"Draco's an ass," Hermione told Dobby.
The man raked a shaky hand through his hair and threw her a reproachful look. The grin didn't leave Hermione's face and Dobby sighed tiredly.
"I don't have to tell you that you're going to be in trouble for this?"
"No," Hermione laughed. "No, you really don't."
Dobby shook his head at her reckless behaviour. Then he leaned closer to her and whispered conspiratorially, "You're right, though. He is an ass."
There was an amused glint in his eyes that made Hermione giggle. Dobby smiled at her softly.
"You know, I think the Headmaster's office needs a good cleaning. How about you do that? That'll give you a few hours without having to look over your shoulder for any vengeful wizards."
"Okay." Hermione threw a grateful glance at the man. "Thank you."
†
As it turned out, Dippet's office really wasn't all that untidy. Hermione didn't have to do much more than dust a bit. It was a good thing, too, because her shoulder still smarted horribly. Dobby had surely known that and that's also why he gave her the easy chore. Hermione smiled at the thought of her new friend. Dobby was a good man. He really didn't deserve to live in chains, forced to do Dippet's bidding. Hermione sighed and gingerly rubbed her shoulder. Damn, she should have punched Draco harder.
"That does look quite painful, my child. Maybe you should ask someone to heal it for you."
Hermione gasped in surprise and twirled around. Dippet's office though was still dark and very much abandoned.
"Where are you?" Hermione whispered nervously.
"Over here."
Several portraits hung on the wall behind Dippet's desk. Most inhabitants were fast asleep in their frames, except for one portrait. Hermione cautiously stepped over to the picture. It depicted an old man of maybe around sixty. Sitting on a lush arm chair, he wore a bright blue robe with small golden stars sewn on the cloth. His auburn hair and beard clashed quite spectacularly with the blue colour. Over golden-framed reading glasses, the man's clear blue eyes scanned Hermione interestedly while a kind smile played around his mouth.
"Er... I'm sorry," Hermione whispered tentatively. "I didn't want to disturb you, sir."
"Oh, no harm done," the portrait answered pleasantly. "I wasn't sleeping anyway. You see, as a portrait you can't do much anymore and after some time even sleep doesn't want to come easily."
"Oh," murmured Hermione timidly. "I didn't know that. I'm sorry to hear."
"It's quite alright," the man replied lightly.
Hermione warily took a step towards him. She admittedly wasn't very fond of portraits. The portraits at Malfoy manor had always yelled at her or alerted someone so she would get punished when she had done something wrong. The man in the portrait scanned her shoulder and concern glimmered in his eyes.
"Whatever happened to you, my child?"
Hermione blinked at him, taken off guard by the worry in his tone. "Nothing. That was- …just nothing."
The man's eyes wandered to her face. He still looked worried. What a strange portrait, Hermione decided.
"If you want, I could teach you a spell to heal yourself," the man suggested gently.
She raised her eyebrows at that. "That would be really great. But… but you see, I'm a Mudblood. I can't do any healing magic."
The man in the portrait visibly winced as he heard her saying the word 'Mudblood'. Hermione stared at him in bewilderment.
"What's your name, my dear child?"
"Penny."
He threw her a small smile. "And your real name?"
"Er…" Hermione stared at him in astonishment. Then she confided hesitantly, "Hermione. Hermione Granger."
The smile on his face grew. "A very nice name it is."
Hermione hesitantly returned the smile.
"You shouldn't call yourself a Mudblood, Hermione," the man told her seriously.
She blinked at him, a frown between her eyebrows. "But that's what I am."
He shook his head, suddenly a sad expression on his kind face. "No. You are a Muggleborn."
"Isn't that the same?"
"Hm." He eyed her thoughtfully. "That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." He winked at her, making Hermione blush slightly.
"Let me tell you, my little rose," he said, his eyes twinkling at her. "Your blood is as pure as anyone else's. That will never change, even if people keep calling it mud."
Hermione stared at the portrait with wide eyes. A feeling was swelling up deep in her chest. It warmly wrapped around her, making tears spring to her eyes and a smile appear on her face. She quickly wiped the tears away but continued to smile at the man in the portrait.
"Who are you?" she asked in a shaky voice.
"Albus Dumbledore, at your service." He grinned at her.
"I've never come upon a portrait quite like you, sir," Hermione said softly.
He smiled at her warmly. "And I have never met a lady who could charm me so."
She giggled as she heard it. Her eyes shortly wandered over the other portraits, all former headmasters of Hogwarts. "I've heard of you, Master Dumbledore. You were the one fighting against Grindelwald. But I didn't know you've been Headmaster of Hogwarts."
"Oh, that was many years ago," he sighed. "I've been headmaster so briefly, I'm surprised they even granted me with a portrait." His clear blue eyes wandered over her as he added, "And please, call me 'Albus'."
Hermione drew in a surprised breath of air. Not many wizards would allow someone like her to call them by their name, let alone their first name.
"Thank you," She looked at him shyly. "Albus."
Albus smiled at her kindly and a smile blossomed on Hermione's face. She proceeded to clean Dippet's office, enjoying it very much as Albus kept telling her stories about the time he had been a teacher at Hogwarts. At first she wouldn't believe him as he told her how back then Mudbl- Muggleborns had been allowed at school. In wonder she listened as Albus told her that Muggleborns had used to visit Hogwarts just like any other witch or wizard.
Hermione was dusting the shelves as her gaze fell on the Sorting Hat. She carefully picked the hat up and looked at it. It was still as tattered as she remembered it. Glancing at Albus, she asked,
"Albus? Did Godric Gryffindor really create the Sorting Hat?"
The man in the portrait nodded. "Yes. As far as I know."
Hermione hesitated shortly. So far, Albus had been very kind, maybe he wouldn't mind if she asked another question.
"Do you know of another object Gryffindor created?"
Albus raised his eyebrows at her. "Why would you want to know that?"
Hermione gulped nervously. "Er… I was j- just curious."
"Well, curiosity is the first step to knowledge," he replied gently.
Hermione peered at him. She could only see kindness in his eyes. Maybe he knows, she wondered hopefully. After all, he had once been Headmaster. Hermione still needed to find the last of the Founders' objects. She couldn't allow Tom to have it.
"I'm trying to find them," Hermione confessed softly.
"Find what?" Albus inquired softly.
"The Founders' objects."
Hermione glanced at him and as she found nothing but curiosity on his face she went on, "I already know where Hufflepuff's Cup is. But I have no idea what Gryffindor's object even is. I don't know what to search."
"You found Helga's Cup?" Albus asked, obviously impressed. "Oh, how I wish I could leave this frame, Hermione. I would love to join you in your quest."
Hermione smiled at him.
"But maybe I can help you even without leaving my picture," he offered jovially.
"You know about Gryffindor?"
"Well, as a teacher here at Hogwarts, I was head of Gryffindor house. So I know a bit about Godric Gryffindor," Albus mused. "Long ago I've read a legend about a fabled sword that Gryffindor was supposed to have bought from a Goblin named Ragnuk."
"A sword?" Hermione asked, excitement bubbling up in her.
Albus nodded, amusement all over his face. "Yes. Legend says that Gryffindor weaved many a spell around the sword, enhancing its power. I'm sure there're people who would kill to possess something so valuable. After Gryffindor's death, his family feverishly searched for his fabled sword. It very nearly sparked a war between Gryffindor's relatives and the Goblins who, after Godric's death, claimed the sword fell back into their possession. In the end, though, it didn't matter at all because neither of them could ever find the sword."
"Do you know where Gryffindor hid it?" Hermione blurted out.
Albus winked at her. "No-one really knows. But I once found a very old book, written by a distant descendant of Gryffindor's. She claimed that Godric Gryffindor had concealed the sword using very strong warding magic. The very same spells, actually, which are woven into the fabric of that hat you are holding, Hermione."
Hermione was startled and stared down at the old Sorting Hat in her hand. "What? Do you mean the sword is inside the hat?"
Albus shrugged. "That's at least what Lady Delwyn thought. She also claimed that only the one who is at heart a true Gryffindor could pull the sword from the hat."
Hermione stared in wonder at the inconspicuous hat in her hands. Albus chuckled softly and added, "Of course that was before Lady Delwyn tried and failed to procure the sword from the hat. After that she took back everything she had written prior and stated that Godric Gryffindor was – and I quote – 'a senile old bat who couldn't tell the difference between a sword and a butter knife'."
Hermione giggled but still scanned the Sorting Hat with fascination. Finally she looked up at Albus and said, "You know, all this 'only a true Gryffindor can pull the sword out' sounds a lot like the legend of King Arthur and Excalibur."
Albus grinned back at her. "Where only the true king of England can pull Excalibur from the rock?"
"Yes. Hufflepuff even left us with an elusive grail…" Hermione mused pensively. "I wonder where that leaves me? I'm certainly not a king of anything."
Albus eyed her contemplatively. "Hm, what other character would suit you?"
She smiled at him. "Maybe Morgan LeFey? Isn't she the witch in that story?"
"Indeed. Though she was a rather dark witch…" Albus said, sounding unconvinced. Then he beamed at her and added, "I would say you are more like Nimue, the Lady of the Lake."
"Nimue?"
He nodded, eyes twinkling merrily. "There are many myths about Nimue. One says that she was a water spirit. Living in a lake, she guarded Excalibur until she bestowed it to King Arthur. Another legend says Nimue was a mortal woman who learned magic from Merlin himself. As Merlin fell in love with her, Nimue could not reciprocate the feelings. In the end she used her magic to trap Merlin in the trunk of a tree."
Hermione smiled as she heard it. "I think it would be nice, being a water spirit. I could go and live in the Great Lake."
She cautiously turned the Sorting Hat around and looked into it. Sadly, though, she found no sword.
"I also like the other story," Hermione continued. "Maybe I can use the idea and trap Tom in a tree trunk. I wonder what spell Nimue used."
Albus observed her over his half-moon spectacles. "Tom?"
Hermione looked up from the hat, smile falling from her lips. "Tom Riddle. He's actually the reason I search for those objects the Founders created."
"Really?" Albus raised his eyebrows. "Are you searching them for him?"
"No." Hermione quickly shook her head. "It's more like I need to find them before he does. I don't want him to get them."
"How come?" Albus asked. "Is it some kind of race between the two of you?"
"It's not that harmless." She smiled at him faintly. "Do you know Tom Riddle?"
"I've only seen him once or twice," Albus replied, suddenly the twinkle in his eyes dimmed slightly. "When he was here in the office talking with Professor Dippet."
"Well, Tom's after those objects," Hermione told the portrait. "And he's already found two."
"Did he?" Albus inquired in surprise. "Which ones?"
"Ravenclaw's Diadem and Slytherin's Locket." Hermione bit her lip before she admitted, "I stole the locket from him. And I… I actually destroyed it."
Albus' clear blue eyes widened in shock. "You destroyed one of the Founders' objects?"
Hermione nodded, eyeing the portrait cautiously. "I'm sorry, but there was no other chance to stop Tom."
"To stop him from doing what exactly?" Albus inquired softly.
Hermione averted her eyes from him and stared down at the Sorting Hat in her hands. Tom's plan made her feel sick.
"I don't know," she sighed. "…I don't know what to do."
"About what?" Albus eyed her in concern.
"Tom's idea is…" Hermione shuddered in disgust. "It's wrong, evil. I need to stop him. I don't want him to hurt anyone."
"So he is not a friend? But an adversary?" Albus asked gingerly.
Hermione looked at him, desperation swimming in her eyes. "I don't know. I've no idea what Tom is. I hate him but he was… so close. And now, I can't even stand to look at him." She tentatively skimmed her fingers over the brim of the hat. "I have to stop him."
"I see," Albus said contemplatively. "But why do you need to keep him away from the Founders' objects?"
"It… It's…" Hermione stared at the portrait for a while until she asked, "Are you going to tell anyone about this?"
Albus smiled at her widely. "No, my dear. There are not many people I talk to these days and I would never break your confidentiality if you don't want me to."
"Okay," Hermione breathed shakily.
She sat down on the edge of Dippet's desk and looked at Albus' portrait. Hermione swallowed thickly before she said, "Tom wants to… he wants to turn the Founders' objects into Horcruxes."
Albus' eyes widened in shock as he heard it. Then he skimmed a hand over his long auburn beard as he scanned Hermione thoughtfully.
"Horcruxes? He wants to create more than one?"
"Yes." Hermione nodded. "That's what he told me."
"Do you know what a Horcrux is, Hermione?" Albus asked gravely.
"I looked it up," she replied sombrely. "So yes, I know. They are like anchors, trapping the soul of a person to the earth. Even if the person dies, the Horcrux will keep the soul in this world."
"Immortality," Albus said, voice heavy and grave. "Though to create a Horcrux, another life has to be sacrificed."
"Murder," Hermione said sadly. "will split the soul."
"Do you think Tom Riddle is capable of murder?" Albus asked gingerly.
She breathed in deeply. "Yes."
After this the two sat in silence. Hermione looked down at the Sorting Hat. The reality of this situation painfully washed over her.
"Hermione?" Albus said gently.
She looked up at him.
"I think you are right to try to stop him," he told her. "He has no right to take another life to extend his own. If he succeeds, he'll not only hurt others but himself as well."
"It's more than just the killing, isn't it?" Hermione said faintly.
Albus nodded, sombre look on his face. "Creating a Horcrux is very dark magic. Using magic like this will always leave deep scars. Tom Riddle plans to meddle with things that should be left untouched and whole."
Hermione's eyes widened. For a moment, she didn't say anything. She breathed in deeply and looked down at the hat in her hands. She felt sick.
"I can't forgive Tom," she finally stated. "He's cruel and ruthless. He never cared if I got hurt or even killed."
Hermione shuddered and subconsciously wrapped her arms around herself. Her gaze wandered back to Albus and she admitted hesitantly, almost ashamed of it, "I don't want anyone to get killed for Tom's Horcruxes, but I also… I… I don't want him to die either. It's stupid. I know. I shouldn't even care."
A kind smile appeared on Albus' face. "Caring is never a bad thing, Hermione. Though, it sometimes hurts." He looked at her hopefully and asked, "Do you think you could convince him to abandon his plan?"
"No, I tried to. He didn't want to listen."
"You have to keep trying," Albus said. "He needs to understand that he will destroy himself if he doesn't stop."
Hermione peered at the portrait. "Talking won't work with Tom. He doesn't care about me. Never did. I have to force him to stop." She sighed and ran a weary hand over her face. "You know what's pathetic? Tom was the first wizard who ever showed me kindness, who didn't treat me like a worthless piece of dirt or just slapped me around. But it all was a lie and in the end he was just using me like everyone else. I know that and still can't forget those moments when he treated me like… like a human being. It changed me. Tom changed me. And I'm pathetic because it was all a lie."
"Not pathetic. Never that." A sad look crossed Albus' face. "I am very sorry that you had to be born into such an unjust world, Hermione. You would have deserved so much more."
"Thank you." She smiled at him faintly. Then she asked, "Do you think there's a way to undo a Horcrux?"
Albus removed his glasses and looked at her thoughtfully. "There are. Several. But only one will save Tom on the way."
"What would that be?"
"He would need to repair his soul."
"How?"
"Remorse."
Hermione furrowed her brow. "Just like that? Remorse?"
Albus chuckled as he heard her. "Well, it sounds easier than it's done. He would need to regret the fact that he took a human life. The pain of that realisation will repair the soul."
She stared at him. "Well, I don't think that would work out. Tom's not exactly a very emotional person."
She stood up from her position on the desk and looked down at the old Sorting Hat. Sceptically she turned it in her hand before she glanced at Albus.
"How exactly would a sword fit into this?" She raised the hat up. "Are you sure it's not more like a dagger? A butter knife after all?"
Albus chuckled amusedly. "It's magic, Hermione. You only need to believe in it."
"Yeah, right," she said, unconvinced.
She put her hand into the hat but came up with nothing except a few pieces of fuzz. She looked at Albus accusingly.
"It's not working."
He smiled mischievously. "Maybe if you can't do it, Tom won't be able to either and your problem is solved."
Hermione shook her head. "No. That would be too easy. Unfortunately, Tom's a very powerful wizard. If he knew the sword is inside the hat, he would find a way to get it out."
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It was the next day that Hermione stepped into the Transfiguration professor's office. McGonagall was sitting behind her desk and Hermione quickly bowed to the woman.
"You wanted to see me, Mistress McGonagall?"
"Hermione," the woman greeted warmly.
There was the rustling of fabric and a chair was scraped over the floor. Hermione still bowed deeply and startled as a hand was softly placed on her shoulder. Cautiously, she looked up at McGonagall.
"How are you?" the woman inquired, arching one stern eyebrow.
"I'm fine, Mistress," was Hermione's quick reply.
A sceptical look crossed McGonagall's face. Her eyes wandered over Hermione, taking in her appearance. Hermione shuffled, feeling embarrassed. She knew her dress was quite filthy, as was her wild hair. With all the work, Hermione didn't really have much time to take care of herself. A quick wash over the sink was all she could afford these days.
"You don't look fine," McGonagall voiced before she demanded to know, "What happened to your shoulder?"
Hermione quickly shook her head and assured, "Nothing."
Of course it was a lie and her injured shoulder still ached quite badly. Why McGonagall would care, though, Hermione didn't know. Still worry shone through the woman's otherwise stern face.
"I hope the other students don't give you any grief?"
Hermione inclined her head. "No, Mistress McGonagall."
The professor sighed as she heard the reply. She didn't look convinced at all but luckily didn't pursue the topic any longer. Instead, McGonagall reached into her robe pocket and retrieved a potion vial. She thrust it into Hermione's hands with the curt order,
"You should take this." Before Hermione could react, she continued, "I've called you here, because I have a task for you."
In wonder, Hermione had stared at the Pepperup potion in her hand, but now she duteously nodded her head.
"Of course, Mistress McGonagall. What can I do for you?"
McGonagall cleared her throat awkwardly, before she said, "I need you to go down to the greenhouses. Professor Beery can't seem to get the valerian patches free of weeds. I'm sure you could help him."
"Yes, Mistress McGonagall," Hermione replied obediently.
She actually looked forward to it. Working outside in the sunshine sounded like a wonderful alternative to helping Winky with laundry duty.
"Very well," McGonagall allowed.
Then she again sat down behind her table and reached for her quill. Obviously, the woman was in the middle of grading essays. Hermione again bowed to her respectfully, before she turned to leave.
"Oh and, Hermione?" McGonagall's soft voice held her back.
Door handle in hand, Hermione turned around to her. There was a thin smile hovering around the professor's lips as she said,
"You're dealing with all this quite admirably. I'm proud of you."
Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. "T- thank you."
†
It really was rather nice, Hermione decided as she wiped the sweat from her forehead. She had spent the last hour pulling up weeds from a patch of valerian plants. The sun shone merrily down on Hermione and birds nearby chirped. Professor Beery had disappeared into one of the greenhouses and Hermione was quite alone. She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. The air smelled sweet, heavy with the scents of spring. A smile curled her lips as she heard the bees buzzing from flower to flower. This was indeed a rather nice chore. She even managed to push all thoughts of Horcruxes and lost magical swords from her thoughts. After the Pepperup potion her shoulder didn't even hurt that much anymore. Smiling contently, Hermione continued weeding.
"Looks like you're enjoying yourself there," a deep voice cut through the tranquil moment.
Hermione startled violently. Her head shot up at the speaker. Shock crashed over her as she was met with yellow eyes. Feeling utterly stunned, Hermione stuttered weakly,
"Lupin?"
{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}
'So they rode till they came to a lake, the which was a fair water and broad, and in the midst of the lake Arthur was ware of an arm clothed in white samite, that held a fair sword in that hand. Lo! said Merlin, yonder is that sword that I spake of. With that they saw a damosel going upon the lake. What damosel is that? said Arthur. That is the Lady of the Lake, said Merlin;'
- Sir Thomas Malory (* 1405 † 1471)