Disclaimer: JK Rowling gets an A (A* these days) for writing skills, not so much for maths skills, sorry.
A/N: I'm aware that Hermione's maths self-study is more in the American style of relatively standardised semester courses than in what I can gather is the British style of modules, but that's what I'm familiar with, so I'm sticking with it. Please excuse any resulting errors.
Chapter 26: Second Year, Autumn Term
Hermione got to King's Cross Station on the first of September with plenty of time to spare. She found a compartment with Neville Longbottom and chatted with him about their respective summers. But as the minutes ticked by, it seemed the Weasleys were running very late. At ten fifty-five, she began to worry that they might not make it. In fact, it was ten fifty-nine—she could hear the steam puffing from the scarlet engine—when Percy, Fred, George, and Ginny came running up to the train and threw their trunks on board.
"I thought you were going to miss the train," Hermione admonished.
"Yeah, that was a close one," George said.
"We had to go back for Ginny's diary," added Fred.
"And your broomstick and fireworks," Ginny shot back.
"So where's Ron and Harry?" Hermione asked.
They looked around and saw the other boys were nowhere to be found. "Huh. Dunno," Fred replied. "They were right behind us."
"Hope they didn't get left behind," George said.
"Probably just found another compartment. They'll turn up."
"Why can't we get through?" Harry hissed at Ron as he pounded on the solid barrier between Platform Nine and Platform Ten.
"The barrier's sealed itself somehow," Ron said. "I don't get it. It's never done that before."
"How do we get through," Harry said, pushing more frantically.
"I dunno…" Ron looked up at the clock. "Oh, no! It's no good. The train leaves at exactly eleven o'clock. We've missed it."
"What're we gonna do?"
"I dunno…" he repeated. "What if Mum and Dad can't get back to us either? Do you have any muggle money."
"Ha! No. The Dursleys never gave me pocket money."
Ron pressed his ear against the barrier. "I can't hear a thing," he said.
Harry glanced around at all the muggles staring at the two boys and an owl who were behaving so strangely. "Uh, Ron, maybe we should wait by the car," he said.
"The car? Harry, the car!"
"What about it?"
"Dad enchanted it to fly!" Ron whispered with a gleam in his eyes. "We can fly it to Hogwarts!"
"What? But we don't know how."
"I can work it out. Dad talks enough about it."
"But—"
"Look, we're stranded here, right? No muggle money, we don't know when Mum and Dad'll get back, and we have to get to school, right? This is an emergency." He started off toward the car park.
Harry was about to protest again, but then, a brain wave hit him—a fragment of a memory spoken to him a month earlier: stranded…emergency…emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard.
He caught up and grabbed his friend by the arm. "Wait, Ron! I've got an idea!"
Harry led Ron past the car park and out to the street. Then, he braced himself, prayed this would work, and stuck out his right hand.
BANG! A purple triple-decker bus appears at the curbside, pushing several parked cars out of the way.
A moment later, to Harry's delight, a young man in a purple uniform jumped out and said, "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor today."
"That's bloody brilliant!" Ron said. "You can take us to Hogwarts, then?"
"'Ogwarts?" Stan Shunpike said, looking confused. "Why don' 'choo take the train?"
"We missed the train," Ron said.
"'Choo miss the train for?"
"We didn't miss it on purpose," Ron replied testily. "Can you take us or not?"
"Course we can. Might take a while, tho." Busy day today. That's eleven sickles each, but for fifteen, you get a peanut butter an' jelly san'wich."
"I've got it," Harry muttered, pulling out the correct change.
"Great. Let's go," Ron said.
"Fred, George, I don't think Harry and Ron are on the train," Hermione said in exasperation. "They must have missed it."
Draco Malfoy seemed to be thinking the same thing. He had wandered in around lunch time to needle Harry and instead found a perfect opportunity to gloat over his supposed expulsion from school, but Fred and George quickly chased him out.
"Well, it's not that bad, is it?" said Fred. "Mum and Dad'll take care of them—once Mum's done yelling at Ron."
"They've probably Flooed straight to Hogsmeade by now," George said.
"They're probably having a grand old time sipping butterbeer—"
"Eating fish and chips—"
"Chatting up Madam Rosmerta."
"I'm sure they're doing just fine."
"Well…if you say so," Hermione said.
"AHHHHHH!"
Harry and Ron screamed and dove for cover as the Knight Bus zoomed treacherously along the very edge of the Cliffs of Dover for the benefit of some deranged magical sightseer. BANG-ing around the country like this all day was making them both terrified and nauseous, so much so that even Ron didn't have the stomach for his peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
"Next time, we're taking the car," he yelled to Harry. "At least that way, if we crash, it'll be our own fault."
By now, Harry was starting to agree with him.
"Firs' years this way!" a familiar voice cried. In the dusk, a dark figure with a lantern towered over the students. The first years nervously moved towards Hagrid as they gazed up at his huge form. Hermione remembered how awed she'd been the first time she saw him.
"Well, that's me. Wish me luck," Ginny said, clearly trying to sound more confident than she was. She walked over to join the crowd. Luna Lovegood came and stood next to her, watching Hagrid with a serene smile.
"All righ," Hermione?" Hagrid called over to her. "Where're the other two?"
"They missed the train," she said. "We thought they'd be waiting for us here."
"Ah, probably gone up teh the castle already. Yeh'd better go on ahead."
"Well…okay, see you later, Hagrid."
"Or else Ron drank too much butterbeer," Fred suggested.
"Come on, you two. Let's get a carriage," said George.
The Twins led Hermione and Neville a short way up the road from the station to where several dozen stagecoaches stood to take the students up to the castle. But the two younger children froze when they came close, staring that the things that were pulling the stagecoaches. They looked like horses, but they were scaly and skeletal. They had dragon-like heads complete with sharp teeth and huge, bat-like wings folded against their sides. Their eyes were solid white, but they appeared to be looking around as if they could see. They had an eerie, otherworldly aura about them that made Hermione and Neville shiver.
"You okay?" George asked.
"What are those things?" said Hermione, pointing at the unsettling animals.
The Twins looked where she was pointing. "What things?" asked Fred.
"Pulling the carriages."
The Twins looked confused. "There's nothing pulling the carriages," Fred told her.
"Yeah," George added. "The carriages pull themselves. Always have."
"You pranking us, now?" asked Fred.
"No—What are you talking about? They're right there!" Hermione said, pointing again. "They're big horse-dragon things. Neville, you see them, don't you?"
"Y-yeah…" the shy boy stammered. "I can see them…" He screwed up his face as he often did when he was trying to remember something he'd forgotten.
"I think the ickle second years have gone mad, Georgie," said Fred. He started to walk around the front of the carriage. "There's clearly nothing—"
"Watch out!" Hermione yelled, a half-second too late. Fred walked directly into the flank of one of the beasts and went sprawling on the ground. The creature bucked and let out a shrieking cry like a bird of prey. Several more of the things returned the cry from the other carriages, making many of the students who were milling around jump.
"Bloody hell!" the Twins said in unison, and Hermione realised that unless they were pulling a very good (and risky) act, they really couldn't see the things. But they could definitely hear them. George came around the other side of the carriage, extended his arms in front of him, and cautiously stepped forward. Soon, he made contact with another of the creatures.
"Whoa!" he said. "This is wicked. It's invisible!" He looked back at Hermione and Neville. "But you two can see them?"
Comprehension dawned on Neville's face. "I remember!" he cried. "They're called thestrals. My Gran told me about them. They're a wild type of winged horse, except…" He grew pale, and his voice dropped to where the others could barely hear it. "…except only people who have seen death can see them."
Hermione's eyes widened in horror, followed only a split second later by the twins, and she gave a tiny "Oh!" of surprise. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them only had a few lines about thestrals, and it hadn't mentioned that particular aspect of their nature. She'd just assumed they could appear and disappear at will. But with this trait, probably only a few of the students could see them.
"Ohhh…" said Fred. "So when Professor Quirrell…"
"Yeah," she said quickly.
"Are you doing okay, Hermione?" asked George.
"Mostly," she said. "It still hurts sometimes…Neville, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he said shakily. "We should go."
The four of them climbed aboard the carriage, and it started rattling up the road to the castle.
"It was my granddad," Neville said after a minute or two of silence. "The whole family was with him in St. Mungo's when he…when he went."
Hermione patted him on the shoulder.
"I'm sorry about what happened last spring," he told her. "I know it's not the same…It gets easier, though."
"I know…" she said. "Thank you, Neville."
"Alright, enough moping," Fred complained. "We've got pranks to plan…"
They reached the doors of the castle and filed into the Great Hall. Hermione kept looking around for Ron and Harry, but they were still nowhere to be seen. Reluctantly, she took a seat near Neville and the Twins, who confidently saved a seat for Ginny in addition to Harry and Ron, and waited for the first years to arrive.
"There you go," said Stan Shunpike. "Gates of 'Ogwarts. Thanks for ridin'." And before Harry and Ron could speak another word, there was a deafening BANG! And the Knight Bus zoomed away.
"Well, that was bright idea," Ron grumbled, nursing bruises from a full days' riding on the absurd bus. Even Scabbers seemed to be squeaking in protest.
"At least it got us here," Harry said wearily. "Come on, let's get up to the castle before we miss dinner."
Ron didn't argue with that. The two boys dragged their heavy trunks and Hedwig's cage up the path to the main doors of the castle.
"Harry, I think the Sorting's started," Ron said, peering in a window. Harry came up alongside him. Scabbers poked his head out of Ron's pocket as if to watch.
Indeed, the golden plates on the long tables were still bare, and a line of first years was standing in the middle of the Great Hall, waiting for Professor McGonagall to place the ragged old Sorting Hat on their heads. Ginny's hair stood out brightly in the candleight.
"Creevey, Colin," McGonagall called, and a tiny, mousy-haired boy ran forward almost as eagerly as Hermione had done last year. Harry scanned the High Table where Dumbledore sat, cheerfully watching the sorting, looking quite unconcerned about his two missing students. Indeed, none of the staff seemed to have noticed, except two. At the far corner of the Great Hall, Professor Vector and Hagrid were not watching the ceremony. Harry followed their gazes and spotted Hermione, sitting by several empty seats. It made Harry feel a little better to see that Professor Vector had not forgotten what happened one other time a student was mysteriously absent from dinner. In the meantime, he noticed something amiss at the other end of the High Table.
"GRYFFINDOR!" The Sorting Hat shouted.
"Hang on, there's an empty seat," Harry said. "Where's Snape?"
"Huh, maybe he's ill," Ron said.
"Maybe he left."
"Maybe he's been sacked!"
"Or maybe," a cold, wicked voice sounded behind them, "He's waiting to hear why you didn't arrive on the train."
The two boys turned around slowly. There was Professor Snape in his billowing black robes, grinning down at them evilly. "Well…?" he growled. Scabbers ducked back into Ron's pocket.
"Th-the barrier at King's Cross sealed itself, sir," Harry said. "We missed the train…We came on the Knight Bus."
"A likely story. Follow me." Snape led them up the front steps and into the echoing Entrance Hall, though mercifully not down to the dungeons. "Let's call that minus twenty points each for tardiness—yes, Mr. Weasley, I can do that before the terms starts. And before dinner, too. I do believe that's a record. Not even your father managed that, Potter." Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Snape cut him off: "Oh, and detention. And get inside before I reconsider my generosity. The elves will attend to your luggage." With that, he pushed open the doors to the Great Hall.
"Lovegood, Luna," McGonagall called, but she froze with the Sorting Hat hanging from her hand as all eyes turned to Harry and Ron as Snape led them in. Only Luna herself seemed oblivious as she skipped up the front of the Hall and sat on the stool, swinging her feet.
"Just a late delivery, Minerva," Snape said with a sneer. "Carry on."
Hermione finally saw a red-faced Harry and Ron walked dejectedly up to the Gryffindor Table. She'd been getting more and more worried when they never showed up to the Welcome Feast, and Fred and George started joking that they'd been expelled for trying to fly Mr. Weasley's enchanted car to school. She jumped up and hugged each of them, whispering. "There you are! Where have you been? Are you alright? What happened? Why weren't you on the train? Come on, sit down."
Harry and Ron sat and whispered back to her and the Twins about their ordeal starting that morning. That the barrier would seal itself seemed very strange, but she didn't know what might cause that. She paled, and the Twins laughed, when Ron said they actually did consider flying the car to Hogwarts. Looking up at the staff table, she saw Hagrid smile and wave, and Harry waved back. Professor Vector nodded to them with a very relieved expression.
Through all of this, Hermione kept one eye on the Sorting. Luna was taking a long time, but unlike most of the students, who might mutter a few nervous words in exchange with the Hat, the strange blond girl was smiling and looked to be having a pleasant conversation with it. Finally, she was sure she heard the Hat chuckle softly before it called out, "RAVENCLAW!"
Luna, still smiling, skipped down to take a seat at the adjacent table. Hermione wonder what she possibly could have talked about so long with a hat. She also remembered her own Sorting, when the Hat had nearly put her in Ravenclaw, and then changed its mind. Perhaps she should keep an eye on Luna Lovegood, she thought.
The rest of the Sorting went quickly. It was a small class this year. Finally, Ginny was standing alone in the middle of the Hall with all eyes on her. She looked resolute, but Hermione had a feeling she was really frightened inside. After all, she had a lot to live up to.
"Weasley, Ginevra," McGonagall said at last.
Ginny stood up straight and walked forward calmly to sit on the stool. The Sorting Hat barely even touched her head before it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"
The entire Gryffindor table stood and applauded. The Weasley Family's reputation in that house was legendary by now. Ginny ran over and hugged each of her brothers in turn and took the empty seat between Fred and George. Ron leaned close to Harry and Hermione and said, "Figures she'd be the most Gryffindor of all of us."
With Ginny sorted, Dumbledore initiated the feast in his own eccentric way. It was as good as Hermione remembered. The house elves may not have quite had Mrs. Weasley's personal touch, but they certainly did good work. Hermione chatted with Harry, the Weasleys, and some of the other second years and had a lengthy conversation with Percy and Alicia Spinnet about fourth year Arithmancy.
Thankfully, nothing out of the ordinary happened the rest of that night (at least by Hogwarts standards). Dumbledore made his start of term announcements—no forbidden corridors or "very painful death" this year. Gilderoy Lockhart was introduced as the new Defence Professor and made a long speech about how pleased he was to be returning to Hogwarts, flashing his winning smile out across the Hall. Hermione sat with rapt attention, barely aware of the smirks the boys were giving her. Of course, many of the other girls were staring at least as much as she was.
When Lockhart finally finished, the students were dismissed, and Hermione trudged up the fourteen flights to her dormitory. (That was one thing about Hogwarts that she hadn't missed.) Her roommates filed in one by one. Sally-Anne Perks didn't immediately pass out on her bed this year, but she did immediately change out of her robes and, after hugging Lily Moon in greeting, climbed into bed and was fast asleep. Hermione still couldn't understand how she was that much of a morning person and wondered how she would be when her night owl teenager phase hit. Lily sat on her bed for a little while, playing with her cat, Wendelin, trying in vain to tire her out so that she wouldn't tear up the dorm in the night.
"Can you believe we're actually getting Gilderoy Lockhart as a professor," Lavender Brown said excitedly.
"I know!" Parvati Patil gushed. "Did you see his smile?"
"Most Charming Smile Award five years running," Lavender said.
"He's amazing," Parvati said. "I wonder how he gets his hair like that."
"Occamy egg yolks," Hermione said. "It says so in Break with a Banshee."
"Wow, he's even daring when he does his hair," Parvati said. "Occamy eggs are really dangerous to get. Mother says they're only used for very special amulets and potions in India."
"Oh, he's completely brilliant," Hermione said excitedly. "I'm sure he'll be a great teacher. I wonder what creatures he'll cover first."
"Wow, he's even better than I thought," Lavender teased. "He's even got Hermione noticing him." Parvati giggled.
"Well…" Hermione blushed.
"Come on, you can admit it to us," Lavender said, flopping back on her bed. "I mean, he's got brains and good looks—the perfect combination. Any witch would want him. I think I'm in love already."
At this point, Hermione couldn't help but giggle at her roommate's antics. "Well…" she said, "he does have nice eyes."
"Oh, I know—forget-me-not blue and everything. Of course…" Lavender rolled over and faced her with a mischievous grin, "Harry has pretty nice eyes, too."
"Eep!" She honestly hadn't even noticed Harry's eyes that much. She supposed objectively…but he was just too…Harry. He was a good friend, but he was still the boy who kept charging off into danger without thinking about what he was doing. Still, she quickly changed the subject to Gilderoy Lockhart's dream of harmony between magical and non-magical peoples as told in Wanderings with Werewolves.
But even so, Hermione never would have thought a year ago that she would be able to join in with one of Lavender's and Parvati's gossip fests. It was actually a little disturbing how well she fit, but she could worry about that later. For now, she had her girlfriends, and she was ready for the coming year.
Her last thought before she fell asleep that night was, It's good to be back.
By the next morning, things seemed to be back to normal for Hogwarts. Harry and Ron were enjoying their breakfast and chatting while Hermione sat quietly to get some last minute reading done in Voyages with Vampires. She barely managed to pull the book out of the way when the Weasley family owl crashed into the table, carrying a red letter that was puffing out smoke ominously.
"Oh, no!" Ron groaned.
"You'd better open it," Neville said. "It'll be worse if you don't."
Hermione wondered what all the fuss was about as Ron opened the envelope with shaking hands.
"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY!"
Hermione screamed and clapped her hands tight over her ears. Mrs. Wealsey could pitch quite a fit in person, but the voice that came screaming out of the letter was amplified by at least twenty decibels, which Hermione knew meant it was flirting with the level that could cause actual ear pain and hearing damage.
"HOW DARE YOU RUN OFF WITHOUT SO MUCH AS LEAVING A NOTE? YOUR FATHER AND I WERE WORRIED SICK WHEN WE SAW YOU WERE GONE—LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, SAID YOU'D TAKEN THE KNIGHT BUS OF ALL THINGS—COULDN'T BEAR TO WAIT FOR US TO GET BACK, COULD YOU? WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP BEHAVE LIKE THIS, AND IF YOU STEP ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE, YOU WILL REGRET IT."
And as if the screaming weren't enough, the letter then burst into flames. Hermione cautiously pulled her hands away from her ears. Her ears were ringing.
"What was that?" she demanded, her voice piercing the silence of the Hall, kicking off the babble of talk once again. She was too stunned to even admonish Ron and Harry for not leaving a note.
"A Howler," Neville said sheepishly. "I got one from my Gran once, but I ignored it…It was horrible."
"How are those things even legal? You could really hurt someone with it being that loud."
"I dunno," Neville replied. "I've never heard of anyone getting hurt by one. They're just really scary."
Hermione didn't have anything to reply to that, and further talk was cut off as Professor McGonagall began handing out course schedules to the prefects. "Miss Granger, I have your schedule here," she said as she approached. "You'll be pleased to hear that you'll be able to take all of your classes with your house mates this year."
"Thank you, Professor." Hermione looked over her schedule: Double Herbology, Transfiguration, Defence, and Double Arithmancy today. Excellent. She ran up to her dorm to get her books and made it to the greenhouses in plenty of time.
Professor Sprout surprised the class by taking them into Greenhouse Three, where all the really dangerous plants were housed. It looked like they were jumping in the deep end this year, which soon proved to be even more true than she realised.
"We'll be re-potting mandrakes today…" Professor Sprout started. But Hermione didn't hear the rest of it because she felt like she might actually be having a heart attack.
Mandrakes?! Was she insane? Professor Sprout might as well have said, "We'll be assembling fully-functional nuclear weapons today," and it would have had about the same impact. Hermione swooned in her spot and gripped the table hard for support. Ron and Harry looked at her, very puzzled.
"…The mandrake is also, however, dangerous. Can anyone tell me why?"
"The cry of the mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it!" Hermione burst out without even raising her hand.
"Precisely. Five points to Gryffindor." Professor Sprout replied happily.
"But professor," Hermione pleaded, "doesn't that make them far too dangerous to keep anywhere near people?"
"What do you mean, Miss Granger?"
"Well, I'm sure the cry can carry a long way. If someone wasn't careful they could wipe out an entire village just by mishandling one, let alone with malicious intent. And if it had an amplifying charm on it, like a Howler—"
Most of the class gasped, and the muggle-raised students, who had some idea about the scales involved with nuclear weapon analogs, started to swoon just like she had.
"Miss Granger! How could you think of such a thing?" Sprout demanded.
"Because it's obvious, Professor! I'm sorry, I don't mean to be morbid, but muggles are very concerned with that kind of thing falling into the wrong hands. In the muggle world, anything that powerful and deadly is called a "weapon of mass destruction." They're incredibly tightly controlled; all the things that are used to make them are tightly controlled, and only major governments can have them. If anyone else ever got hold of one, it would be an international crisis, and they're kept behind security that makes what you put on the Philosopher's Stone last year look like child's play…ma'am."
"Please calm yourself, Miss Granger," Sprout said impatiently, as most of the class was now backing away from both Hermione and the mandrake seedlings. "Mandrakes, while very rare and carefully controlled, are not nearly so dangerous as that. First, the cry is not instantly fatal, and is not fatal at all at a long range. Although it is rapidly debilitating, a swiftly applied Silencing Charm will save you from harm. Secondly, as a magical sound, the cry is only dangerous in its natural state. Recordings of the cry are not dangerous, and, thank Merlin, no dark wizard has ever succeeded in increasing its lethality with an amplifying charm.
"Sorry, professor," Hermione said. The class calmed down, but they still eyed her warily. She knew she wasn't exactly the person whom people expected to talk about things as morbid as weapons of mass destruction.
"Quite alright," Sprout replied. "Now, as our mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries can't kill yet, but they could certainly knock you out for several hours before anyone noticed with their earmuffs on, so do mind them carefully." She then had the students divide into teams of four, and Hermione, Ron, and Harry were joined by a muggle-born Hufflepuff named Justin Finch-Fletchley.
Justin smiled as he shook her hand: "You're Hermione Granger—always on top in everything, aren't you? You know, I was wondering that about mandrakes myself. I had a job convincing my Mum that magic was handy to have around, but even I hate to think what wizards could do with what might as well be ready-made nukes. Ron looked at the two of them in confusion, but neither of them had time to explain the finer points of muggle nuclear physics or geopolitics, since Professor Sprout told everyone to put on their earmuffs and get to re-potting.
So Herbology got off to an okay start. Then, after spending Transfiguration class changing beetles into buttons and a quick lunch in which the little first year, Colin Creevey, started a scene by asking Harry for his autograph, the three of them headed off to Defence.
The first Defence lesson with Professor Lockhart did not go as well as Hermione had hoped. Lockhart spent half the class on a "little quiz" which was actually about him rather than his books. Even if she was (though she would never admit it) a little smitten when he flashed her his winning smile and awarded her alone full marks, it didn't exactly seem like the most practical idea. And the practical part of the class wasn't planned out that well, either. Releasing a swarm of the pixies on the classroom and then diving behind his desk wasn't exactly the best way to give them hands on experience. But then again, even the most brilliant people weren't necessarily that good at teaching—just look at Professor Snape. But she hoped that Professor Lockhart would get better with practice.
"Here. Watch carefully. It's Immobulus," she told Harry and Ron as she froze one of the pixies and stuffed it back in its cage.
"Immobulus," Harry repeated, and to her relief, he got the charm to work.
"Great," she said. "I'm really sorry about this, but can you take care of the rest? I have to get to Arithmancy."
"Yeah, sure," Harry said unenthusiastically. Ron just grumbled as he fought a pixie that was trying to bite him on the nose."
"Thanks a bunch," Hermione said. "I owe you one."
Hermione made it to Professor Vector's classroom just in time and took her familiar seat in the front row between Alicia Spinnet and Roger Davies. Professor Vector nodded to her and stood up to start the class. Hermione idly wondered how long she would wait to start if she were, late, but she wasn't about to test it. No one said anything about Hermione's presence this year, except for a few "Welcome backs." Even Graham Montague, the irascible Slytherin, gave her his grudging respect after learning she'd taken top marks in the exam.
"Good morning, and welcome back to fourth year Arithmancy," Vector greeted them. "I'm pleased to see that nearly everyone stuck with the class from last year.
"I think you will find that this year's class will be very different from last year's and, for most of you, much more interesting. Last year, we focused on developing the mathematical tools and techniques that all arithmancers need. While we found some important applications, like numerology and prognostication, we did very little that had to do with the main thrust of arithmancy, which is, of course, spellcrafting.
"Now, we still won't be getting much into proper spellcrafting this year, but we will be developing many of the magical tools that go into it. A big part of this year will involve learning to detect active spells, analyse their arithmantic components, and remove or reverse them. You may think of this as a very simplified, low-level introduction to the techniques of curse-breaking, although we won't get to actual curses at O.W.L.-level, since curses involve differential equations. We will also be learning how to reverse-engineer simple charms, do minor spell modification, and construct arithmantic inverses for counter-charms. Along the way, we'll be covering more the advanced algebra and geometry that we will need for these techniques. Any questions?"
No one raised their hand.
"Excellent. We will begin with a review of how the algebraic and geometric components of a charm relate to its effects…"
Thereafter followed a very enjoyable lecture. Yes, Arithmancy was still Hermione's favourite class, and it was only going to get better.
Two hours later, she got a chance to talk to her three older friends together for the first time: "So, study group on Tuesdays and Thursdays after classes?" Cedric asked as they packed up to leave.
"Um, Tuesdays and Fridays might be better," Hermione said. "I have Double Potions on Thursdays, and I might not get out before one of you has Quidditch practice."
"Hmm…Friday," Alicia grumbled. "Well, I guess I can make that work. What about you two?"
"Works for me," Roger said.
"Tuesdays and Fridays it is, then," Cedric said. "See you later, Hermione."
"See you."
She started to leave herself before Professor Vector called after her, "Miss Granger?"
She turned around. "Yes, Professor?"
"It's good to see you back."
Hermione smiled. "It's good to be back, ma'am."
"So how was your summer, Hermione?"
"Very good, Professor. I got an A—that's the highest grade—on my maths A-level."
"I wouldn't expect anything less. Are you still continuing your maths education?"
"Of course, ma'am. I'm studying vector calculus now. I want to try to take the exam for that over Christmas through The Open University and then cover differential equations in the spring."
Septima Vector wasn't sure she'd ever be able to get used to a twelve-year-old cheerfully talking about learning what she knew as N.E.W.T. and Masters-level arithmancy techniques, but that was Hermione Granger, alright. "I'm glad to hear it," she said with a chuckle. "Do come to me if you need any help. Vector calculus is a speciality of mine." Hermione laughed out loud. "And what about the rest of your summer?"
"It was really nice. I spent a week with the Weasleys—that was a lot of fun. And I even taught my mum to make a couple of potions—you know, ones that don't use a wand."
She's experimenting in potions, now? Of course she is, Septima thought. "That's…very impressive. From what I can gather, most muggle-born families wouldn't bother."
"Oh, Mum and Dad were very interested. Actually, that reminds me, ma'am. I was thinking about doing some more experiments at Christmas, and Percy Weasley suggested I write them up to submit to The Practical Potioneer. I have a feeling Professor Snape wouldn't be that helpful, so I was wondering if you could help me with that."
Septima needed a few moments to realise that her mouth was hanging open—just when she thought the girl had run out of ways to surprise her. She actually thought that Severus might be agreeable to an independent study with a good enough student, even a young Gryffindor, but imagining the look on the man's face when her name showed up in print was too much. She chuckled and said, "Hermione, do you realise that if you could get such a paper accepted this year, you would quite possibly be the youngest author to have a scholarly paper published since Professor Dumbledore himself?"
Hermione looked a little uneasy, as if she weren't entirely sure if that was a compliment or an admonishment, but she collected herself and replied, "Only because no one seems to bother with muggles, ma'am. It's really pretty obvious when you think about it."
"Well, unfortunately, in our society, people too frequently miss the obvious." Myself included. "I'd be happy to help you write up a paper. You might also look up back issues in the library to get a feel for the style."
"Thank you, ma'am. I'll look into that."
Septima nodded. "So how have you been feeling lately?"
Hermione's expression grew a little more sombre. "Much better," she said. "I saw a counsellor over the summer—I couldn't tell her what really happened, but she still helped me a lot. I'm just hoping for a normal year, now."
"As am I, Hermione. As am I."