Harry and Ron were busy running down on Squad members to notice her silence throughout Care of Magical Creatures. She felt Hagrid's gaze in her neck while cutting large amounts of salmon in pieces for his latest project: Obviously he had learned of sushi, and decided to offer the merpeople a banquet as a gesture of gratefulness for having him carry tons of water from shore to the pitch. Stirring in a pot of steaming water with thick rice strangely calmed her down wrapping cucumber was too easy a task that she dared not to tell him that the merpeople probably preferred a much less salty selection of food for a feast. Besides, she felt grateful not having to talk him out of serving them fish to people who were not quite human themselves. He certainly itched to ask her about the precise events on third floor the night before, but resisted to ask within her fellow students earshot. Having been expelled from Hogwarts in his third year must have taught him to save her the embarrassment, Hermione mused, staring into the white, murky depths of his cauldron. With any luck, the clouds building up again over their heads, Hagrid would not have to take as much water from the lake soon.
By the time they reached the greenhouses, Ron had wreaked out enough anger over Squad members harassing his best friend and his sister to be in adapt mood for a civilized conversation. Her looked out for her while Madam Sprout introduced today's task, but Hermione, enjoying her short inner peace far too much, escaped to busy herself in a corner alongside Neville.
"It's my fault." Neville threw so much manure on the Cheering Crops they were supposed to tend that they squealed in protest. "I shouldn't have listened to Crabbe. But calling my mother – you know -"
"It's ok, Neville", Hermione replied, for she felt it heartless to bluntly agree with him. "They would have gotten to us in the end. If they hadn't found a button to push with us, they'd have made something up as a reason to attack."
They did not have to worry about too many curious ears listening in, since thick rain now pounded against the greenhouses, which had been heartily welcomed by Madam Sprout. "We'll have a thick and beautiful lawn before term's over!" She always had taken the development of Hogwarts' grounds personal, but with the pitch devastated by Dark Magic, regrowing anything apparently gave her a sense of a tiny, important victory. Her delighted mood outshone particularly anguish Gryffindor faces. "Cherish every drop on your skin on your way back to the castle, my dear!"
Hermione wished she could rejoice on a field of weeds just as much.
"I don't remember much from last night. There have been rumors … did Ginny get hurt in any way?"
"Depends on which one you're talking about", Hermione said flatly over singing from the crops.
"We were talking about Ginny Weasley, weren't we?", Neville said, looking puzzled.
Hermione retold an even shorter version of the duel than she had given Harry, including her crucial role. Somehow, retelling the story to someone less esteemed made her felt lighter, less ashamed of what she had done. If there was anyone in the castle who had suffered shaming and teasing for failed magic, it was Neville, and opening up to him was much easier than to her friends, to whom she was the skilled and able, sufferable know-it-all. And, being painfully honest to herself, she wished it to remain that way.
"I've never heard that Magic could do this", he murmured after her confession. "Curses like this – it's past ordinary levels of wickedness. The malicious sort, I mean. Is there any chance Malfoy could have planned this?"
"No", she answered, a dreadful idea gaining shape in her mind, "I don't see how he could have learned such dark magic." But then, , she thought. Perhaps Malfoy was beyond ordinary levels of maliciousness, very much in line with his family's tradition, and soon in close company of wizards capable of much worse than a messed up Multiplying charm.
"If Umbridge stays, who knows what they'll make us dirty our minds with at NEWT-level", she mused darkly. "Neville, are you sure that a Silencing Charm will harm these crops? Their chorus is killing me."
"Yeah, but you can try a Mood Altering Charm, makes them stop singing. Just be careful not to push it as far as to make them stop eating and cry."
Despite her target being considerably less complicated than the mind which the spell usually targeted, she was not quite fond of her work, Hermione thought, when she pocketed her work a minute later again. The crops looked a little less enthusiastic, but she made a note to herself to practice her elliptic circle, since they kept a distance to each other throughout the rest of their lesson, an indication that they showed withdrawal behavior. Apart from that, tending them left Hermione far too much time to dwell on the past forty-eight hours.
So the 'rate of decay' indicated serious results, she thought, uncovering common weed roots. Had Madam Pomfrey spoken of a precise value? Was it measurable, by a technique or magic, and which skills would be required to get reliable results?
Hermione carefully scooped out the weeds. If the nurse had not been referring to a value, how could she recognize the underlying process? Why had they not been offered a subject like healing or remedies for daily use, instead of rubbish like Divination, at the end of second year?
But they do teach us minor measures to counter injuries, or rather, small ailments, a faint, unnerving voice reminded her. Remember your first lesson in potions, when he introduced the bezoar as saving from most common poisons?
She dragged her thoughts away from the then obscure, mean figure she had known him to present. Focusing on what she remembered of Redefining Remedies, unsettling questions rose from the depths of her mind. Sure, she had told Harry and Ron that she wished to work on S.P.E.W., but that was not a promising perspective of any kind. In vague and blurry fantasies of her ideas concerning a career after Hogwarts, she had always pictured them at her side. But now - if Auror training was not available to her any longer after her horrible experiment with Conjuring Charms, perhaps Healing truly might be an option?
If she was bound to aide Madam Pomfrey as part of her punishment, why not make the best of it – and learn what students regularly, and sadly, missed in their usual education?