Note: This story will be progressing at a much faster rate. I am toying with putting the original back up. Let me know what you think as I personally don't really care for it.

Chapter 2

There was nothing Hermione Granger enjoyed more than an afternoon in the library. And so it was that History of Magic had been slowly climbing in her list of favorite classes. The new Professor was exactly the antithesis if Binns: the almost never spoke and he never gave notes. It was also a bonus that he was alive, but Hermione tired not to stereotype a class based on those standards.

His introduction to the class had been short and to the point (My name is Professor Jaganshi. No, I am not English. Yes, be prepared to work.) And then he had led them down to the library with a research project due. And that had been every class since.

Harry and Ron were, of course, outraged about the amount of work. She just ignored their complaining and headed off for the welcoming stacks.

Most of the other students had been turning the rumor mill. "My dad says he's actually Sirius Black in disgust," was one haughty Ravenclaw's comment over breakfast a week into term. Harry had pursed his lips and gone pale. And no more than a few hours later at lunch Draco Malfoy had stood on a bench and comment loudly about the Headmaster's penchant for hiring unknown nobodies who wore rags.

His comment had been snobbish (mostly due to the colors on his tie) but not all together unfounded. Three weeks into term had Pansy raising her hand – an unprecedented event – and asking the man what was wrong with his hands. Every mouth had held silent as the Professor placed his chalk on the empty desk and said simply: "Magic has a price. Get to the library."

It had all been somewhat anti-climatic, Hermione had thought. Although, Harry and Ron had talked about the possibilities non stop in the common room for three days. It had been a welcome distraction from Harry's regrets from the end of last year.

However, despite her excitement about this new found history class, it was slightly over-powered by their Defense Against the Dark Arts class. After the previous year, any teacher would have been an improvement. Hermione was almost positive that Harry and Ron would have welcomed back Professor Lockhart with a kiss.

But, they had gained someone even better than Lockhart – perhaps even on par with Professor Lupin. Nymphadora Tonks was not the most graceful of women, but she knew how scare a Dark wizard out of pudding. The class was filled with practicums and new spells, dark creatures and artifacts. Harry was over the moon about both the new curriculum and the new teacher.

Hermione was excited to show top marks for completing projects of value.

And so, when she found herself staying after Professor Jaganshi's class because of the words "Granger, we need to discuss an aspect of your report" and a pointed look, she had nodded and gripped her quill so tightly it snapped; schoolwork had always been her joy and success. Ron had given her a look of pity. "Should have copied some of my notes," he whispered seriously.

After the class had filed out of the classroom, their new research project assignments in hand, Hermione cautiously went down to the front of the room. "Professor, you wanted to see me?" She could not help the pitched edge to her voice.

He gathered up the chalk from the black board – the only item he ever brought to class – and nodded. "My office."

Hermione followed him around to the back of the classroom, through the office door, and tentatively sat in the offered chair. Closing the door behind them, the Professor took up a spot on top of the large wooden desk. During Binn's time, the office had been ridden with books and papers covered in dust and grime after years of laying out. After all, he could not move anything in his incorporeal state. Hermione was surprised to find the office almost exactly as it had been in the past; not a paper or book moved and an even thicker layer of dust over everything.

Professor Jaganshi said nothing and Hermione felt the need to prompt him. "My paper?"

He reached off to the side behind a tall dusty stack and held up a scroll tied with a gold ribbon. "Your paper is fine, Granger. But I have been instructed to give you this." He held out the scroll for her, watching intently. His face said nothing to her.

Hermione blanched at the statement, but her expression fluidly changed to one of confusion. "What is it?" she asked, slowly reaching out and catching the small scroll as it dropped into her hand.

"Read it first."

The paper was, to her surprise, not parchment but some sort of linen and she hesitantly separated the golden wax seal holding the ribbon onto the scroll. She glanced up at the Professor but he said nothing. As she unrolled it, she had a distant thought that she should have checked it for curses or the like. That's what Harry or Professor Tonks would have done.

But there was nothing more on the scroll that a few beautifully written sentences.

Ms. Hermione Granger,

I request the honor of your presence on the 3rd of December of this year at the Hogs Head Inn at 2 o'clock in the afternoon. Please inform no one of our meeting and arrive alone and without being seen. I wish to discuss your future employment.

Sincerely,

KoEnma

"Wha- What is this?" she asked, mostly to herself. Suddenly, Hermione found herself wishing they would have stayed in the classroom where the door would have been propped open and people could have easily looked in.

She barely heard her Professor answer. "It is a summons – he wishes to speak to you and you will go." He paused for a moment and narrowed his eyes at the girl. "And his instructions need to be followed. No one should know you are attending this meeting."

"Does he -ah – know that I'm..." she bit her lip, almost ashamed to say the words out loud. "That I'm muggleborn? A mudblood?" She found herself rambling. "Because I would think that being muggleborn would mean that they don't want me since they are all about pure magic blood and old families and I don't know if you know that about me so I thought that I would make sure you knew because it doesn't really make any sense for them to be recruiting me-"

The Professor cut her off with a word: "Granger."

But her eyes were already staring at the bandages around his arm. "That's what you were talking about. A price. Your price. To... to..." Her tongue was moving faster than her brain could form sentences.

She stood up so quickly the chair scrapped across the floor in a high-pitched wail and took a step backwards almost falling over her own feet.

"Granger," he said again. "Sit down."

She did, not knowing what else to do.

He held up his bandaged hand and pushed his black jumper sleeve all the way up to his bicep revealing the bandages climbed high. "There is no Dark Mark under here. It is simply a injury that I would rather keep covered."

She nodded, not really believing him, and bit her lip. It was a terrible nervous habit. Her mother often scolded her about it. "You're going to dent that if you don't stop."

He pointed towards the letter gripped and wrinkling in her hands. Her thoughts abruptly left her mother. "That note is not from the Dark Lord. Koenma just likes all the mysticism that comes along with his position."

She nodded again.

The Professor's face tightened for a moment before his next words. "I will attend the meeting with you; as will another classmate. The date is a Hogsmeade trip so there will be students and staff everywhere. However, your silence on this matter is important." He looked her straight in the eye. "No one must know you are going. Even your friends."

He stood up and walked over to the door, opening it. "You have until the day before to decide. Burn the letter."

Hermione sat in silence after he left, scanning the note again before leaving for Gryffindor Tower to drop off her school bag. On her way down to dinner, she tossed it into the common room hearth.

Ron and Harry both commented on her lack of excitement when the second Hogsmeade trip of the year was announced to occur in two weeks.