While no other students were transfigured into a ferret, the next two days were not without incident. During Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall asked Hermione to stay after class to do her a favour.
"What do you need, Professor?" Hermione asked, perplexed.
"I'm not sure if you are aware, but Gryffindor House gained quite a few new Witches and Wizards this year at the Sorting Ceremony," Professor McGonagall began.
"Yes!" Hermione said. "So exciting!"
"It is. I'm sure they will all be excellent additions to our house," Professor McGonagall continued, pushing her glasses up on her nose. "But I must ask for your assistance in a particularly delicate matter."
"Of course, Professor, anything!"
"One of our newest students, Jillian Haught, comes from a Muggle family and is profoundly deaf. When she was younger, she had surgery to receive something called a cochlear implant. Do you know what that is?"
Hermione shook her head. "I think I've heard of it, but I'm not sure."
"It's a relatively new invention surgically implanted in the child's head. Electrodes take the place of the hairs in the ear that process sound. There is an internal processor and an external microphone. The sound goes in through the microphone, gets turned into electronic signals, and then the brain interprets it. I am simplifying it greatly, but it is one of the more magical inventions Muggles have ever made if I say so myself."
"Yes, wow!" Hermione said. "That is quite impressive! So she can hear normally with this implant?"
"From what her parents have told me, she can hear, but differently than you and me. She has to work a bit harder at listening."
"Remarkable!" Hermione said.
"Quite," Professor McGonagall agreed.
"But, Professor," Hermione started, thinking it all over. "Electronics can't work in Hogwarts."
"Precisely the issue at hand," Professor McGonagall said. "Do you know why electronics don't work in Hogwarts?"
"I would assume it's because of a Charm or spell," Hermione guessed.
"Unfortunately, it's not that easy," Professor McGonagall said. "There is simply too much magic in the air that interferes with electricity."
"So what is she going to do?"
"Well, I have figured out a way to cast the Shield Charm on just the implants, which seems to work well. However, I can't be there all the time. I was hoping I could introduce Jillian to you in case she ever needed the spell performed and couldn't find me. I wouldn't trust any other student to cast such an advanced spell on something that is providing someone with one of their senses, and that is implanted in their head."
"I would be honoured to help," Hermione said, blushing with pride.
"Excellent," Professor McGonagall smiled. "I knew I could count on you. I will ask Professor Flitwick to work with you to learn the Shield Charm and arrange a meeting between you and Miss Haught."
"I look forward to it," Hermione beamed. "Thank you, Professor!"
"I assume you'll have a bit more free time this year with your lessened schedule?" Professor McGonagall asked with a twinkle in her eye.
"Yes, thankfully," Hermione said.
"Good, good," Professor McGonagall said, walking back behind her desk. "Keep an eye out for a note from Professor Flitwick and me in the next few days. And if you happen to run into Miss Haught, please feel free to introduce yourself. However, I'll still facilitate a more formal meeting to go over specifics."
"Sounds like a plan," Hermione said. "Thank you again, Professor. I'm honoured to be able to help."
"I believe you'll enjoy getting to know Miss Haught - she's quite the interesting character and incredibly excited to learn. She reminds me of you in your first year."
Hermione was elated to help, but all of the excitement was soon dashed by her least favourite teacher, Professor Snape. During Potions, Neville melted his sixth cauldron. Professor Snape, who seemed to have attained new levels of vindictiveness over the summer, gave Neville detention. Neville returned from it in a state of nervous collapse, having been made to disembowel a barrelful of horned toads.
Hermione was livid. Not only was that an absolutely horrid punishment not befitting of the crime, it was all the crueller since Professor Snape knew Neville had a pet Toad. Neville's face was ashen white, and he kept looking at his hands in horror, not answering anyone's questions. It took Hermione a moment to realise that poor Neville had toad guts under his fingernails and was in total shock.
"Come here, Neville," Hermione said softly, putting her arm around her shaking friend walking out of class. "Let me help, ok?"
Neville looked at her with a distant stare, not really comprehending what she was saying. Hermione knew she wouldn't be able to get him to walk very far, certainly not to the lavatory. She wracked her brain for a spell that would help. Suddenly, it came to her. "Neville, do you know the scouring charm?" she asked.
Neville shook his head.
"Here, I'll show you," she said, pulling out her wand. She made an "S" shaped movement with her wand and, on the downstroke of the "S," pointed it at Neville's fingers. "Scourgify!"
A small bit of the toad guts was covered by a foaming soap and magically disappeared. "See?" she said. "You try." Hermione knew she could do it for him but Neville needed to redeem himself, and restore his faith in himself.
A few minutes later, Neville had gotten the hang of the spell, and his hands were finally clean. Nonetheless, he went up to the boys' dormitory for an early night. Hermione couldn't blame him; any run-in with Snape was awful, but this was particularly heinous.
Aside from her classes, Hermione filled the first few days back at Hogwarts in the Library, though she tried to keep an eye out for Jillian. She had read Adam Smith's book that first night and had moved on to some of the Social Science books, but found a lot of the 300s mainly focused on Wizarding subjects which didn't help her case. Wizards were the ones writing the books and, therefore, painted themselves in a positive light. But, in reading between the lines, Hermione realised Elf enslavement went back for centuries and no one seemed to care.
Instead, Hermione refocused her energy on the 900s, of which there were many more books about Muggle struggles (written by actual Muggles) that gave Hermione a lot of ideas.
With all of her work in the Library, Hermione missed the excitement leading up to their first Defence Against the Dark Arts class with Professor Moody. She found herself at the very end of the queue after lunch on Thursday, right before the bell had rung.
"Been in the-"
"-library," Harry finished her sentence for her. "C'mon, quick, or we won't get decent seats."
They hurried into three chairs right in front of the teacher's desk, took out their copies of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, and waited, unusually quiet. Hermione had read this textbook only twice and was excited to reread it in the context of Moody's class. As unconventional as Moody seemed, Hermione thought there was a definite possibility of learning quite a bit, especially with his background as an Auror.
Soon, they heard Moody's distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he entered the room, looking as strange and frightening as ever.
"You can put those away," he growled, stomping over to his desk and sitting down. "Those books. You won't need them."
Hermione nearly groaned in disappointment but joined her classmates in putting the book in her bag. Ron, on the other hand, looked gleeful.
Professor Moody took out the register, shook his long mane of grizzled grey hair out of his twisted and scarred face, and began to call out names. His normal eye moved steadily down the list while his magical eye swivelled around, fixing upon each student as they answered.
"Right then," he said when the last person had declared themselves present. "I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures – you've covered Boggarts, Red Caps, Hinkypunks, Grindylows, Kappas and werewolves, is that right?"
There was a general murmur of assent.
"But you're behind – very behind – on dealing with curses," said Moody. "So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark –"
"What, aren't you staying?" Ron blurted out.
Moody's magical eye spun around to stare at Ron; Ron looked highly apprehensive, but after a moment, Moody smiled. The effect made his heavily scarred face look more twisted and contorted than ever, but it was a relief to know that he ever did anything as friendly as a smile. Ron looked profoundly relieved.
"You'll be Arthur Weasley's son, eh?" Moody said. "Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago ... yeah, I'm staying just the one year. Special favour to Dumbledore. One year, and then back to my quiet retirement."
He gave a harsh laugh and then clapped his gnarled hands together.
"So – straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you counter-curses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it 'til then. But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I'm talking."
Lavender jumped and blushed. She had been showing Parvati something under the desk. Apparently, Moody's magical eye could see through solid wood as well as out of the back of his head.
"So, do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"
Hermione's hand rose in the air, and, to her surprise, several others did too. She was shocked to see Ron included among them. Moody pointed at Ron though his magical eye was still fixed on Lavender.
"Er," said Ron tentatively. "My dad told me about one… is it called the Imperius curse, or something?"
"Ah, yes," said Moody appreciatively. "Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius curse."
Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three giant, black spiders were scuttling around inside it. Ron recoiled in fear – Ron hated spiders.
Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders and held it in his hand's palm so they could all see it.
He then pointed his wand at it and muttered, "Imperio!"
The spider leapt from Moody's hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backwards and forwards as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a backflip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance.
Everyone was laughing – everyone except Moody.
"Think it's funny, do you?" he growled. "You'd like it, would you, if I did it to you?"
The laughter died away almost instantly.
"Total control," said Moody quietly as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. "I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats…"
Ron gave an involuntary shudder.
"Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius curse," said Moody. "Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act and who was acting of their own free will.
"The Imperius curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he barked, and everyone jumped.
Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar. "Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?"
Hermione's hand flew into the air again, and so, to her surprise, did Neville's. The only class Neville usually volunteered information in was Herbology, which was easily his best subject. Neville looked surprised at his own daring.
"Yes?" said Moody, his magical eye rolling right over to fix on Neville.
"There's one – the Cruciatus curse," said Neville in a small but distinct voice.
Moody was looking very intently at Neville, this time with both eyes.
"Your name's Longbottom?" he said, his magical eye swooping down to recheck the register.
Neville nodded nervously, but Moody made no further enquiries. Turning back to the class at large, he reached into the jar for the next spider and placed it on the desktop, where it remained motionless, apparently too scared to move.
"The Cruciatus curse," said Moody. "Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea," he said, pointing his wand at the spider. "Engorgio!"
The spider swelled. It was now larger than a tarantula. Abandoning all pretence, Ron pushed his chair backwards, as far away from Moody's desk as possible.
Moody raised his wand again, pointed it at the spider, and muttered: "Crucio!"
At once, the spider's legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it, but Hermione was sure that it would have been screaming if it could have given a voice. Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently. Hermione briefly looked away in disgust but, in doing so, caught sight of Neville. His hands were clenched upon the desk in front of him, his knuckles white, his eyes wide and horrified.
"Stop it!" Hermione said shrilly.
Moody raised his wand. The spider's legs relaxed, but it continued to twitch.
"Reducio," Moody muttered, and the spider shrank back to its proper size. He put it back into the jar.
"Pain," said Moody softly. "You don't need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus curse ... that one was very popular once, too.
"Right. Anyone know any others?"
To her knowledge, there was only one left. She glanced over at Harry before raising her shaking hand into the air.
"Yes?" said Moody, looking at her.
"Avada Kedavra," Hermione whispered.
Several people looked uneasily around at her, including Ron.
"Ah," said Moody, another slight smile twisting his lop-sided mouth. "Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra. The killing curse."
He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade Moody's fingers, but he trapped it and placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface.
Moody raised his wand, and Harry felt a sudden thrill of foreboding.
"Avada Kedavra!" Moody roared.
There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air – instantaneously, the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked but unmistakably dead. Hermione and several other students stifled cries; Ron had thrown himself backwards and almost toppled off his seat as the spider skidded towards him.
Moody swept the dead spider off the desk onto the floor.
"Not nice," he said calmly. "Not pleasant. And there's no counter-curse. There's no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he's sitting right in front of me."
All eyes, including Hermione's, shot towards Harry. Hermione watched his face contort with a mixture of fear, grief, and embarrassment.
Moody continued, nonplussed by Harry's obvious pain. "Avada Kedavra's a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it – you could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words, and I doubt I'd get so much as a nosebleed. But that doesn't matter. I'm not here to teach you how to do it."
"Now, if there's no counter-curse, why am I showing you? Because you've got to know. You've got to appreciate what the worst is. You don't want to find yourself in a situation where you're facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared, and the whole class jumped again.
"Now, those three curses – Avada Kedavra, Imperius and Cruciatus – are known as the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That's what you're up against. That's what I've got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practise constant, never-ceasing vigilance. Get out your quills ... copy this down."
They spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on each of the Unforgivable Curses. No one spoke until the bell rang – but when Moody had dismissed them, and they had left the classroom, a torrent of talk burst forth. Most people were discussing the curses in awed voices – "Did you see it twitch?" "– and when he killed it – just like that!"
"Hurry up," Hermionesaid tensely to Harry and Ron as they rushed down the corridor.
"Not the ruddy library again?' said Ron.
"No," said Hermione curtly, pointing up a side passage. "Neville."
Neville was standing alone, halfway up the passage, staring at the stone wall opposite him with the same horrified, wide-eyed look he had worn when Moody had demonstrated the Cruciatus curse.
"Neville?" Hermione said gently.
Neville looked around, even more spaced out than after his detention with Snape. His unfixed eyes found Hermione's face. "Oh, hello," he said, his voice much higher than usual. "Interesting lesson, wasn't it? I wonder what's for dinner. I'm - I'm starving, aren't you?"
"Neville, are you all right?" said Hermione, knowing full well he wasn't.
"Oh, yes, I'm fine," Neville said in the same unnaturally high voice. "Very interesting dinner - I mean lesson. What's for eating?"
Hermione looked desperately at Harry and Ron for help - for once, she had no idea what to do.
"Neville, what-" Ron started, but an odd clunking noise sounded behind them. They all turned to see Professor Moody limping towards them. All four of them fell silent, watching him apprehensively, but when he spoke, it was surprisingly in a much lower and gentler growl than they had heard from him before.
"It's all right, sonny," he said to Neville. "Why don't you come up to my office? Come on. We can have a cup of tea."
Neville looked even more frightened at the prospect of tea with Moody. He neither moved nor spoke. Hermione wasn't sure what to say.
Moody turned his magical eye to Harry. "You all right, are you, Potter?"
"Yes," said Harry.
"You've got to know. It seems harsh, maybe, but you've got to know. No point pretending," Moody said. "Well, come on, Longbottom. I've got some books that might interest you."
Neville allowed himself to be steered away with one of Moody's gnarled hands on his shoulder.
"What was that about?" asked Ron.
"I don't know," said Hermione. It was undoubtedly odd - what did Moody want with Neville, especially after terrorising him in class?
"Some lesson, though, eh?" said Ron as they set off for the Great Hall. "Fred and George were right, weren't they? He really knows his stuff, Moody, doesn't he? When he did Avada Kedavra, the way that spider just died, just snuffed it right –"
Hermione elbowed Ron to shut up. Ron looked around wildly, confused, until he, too, saw Harry's face.
They all fell silent as they went to the Great Hall for dinner. Ron started chatting about their Divination homework in what Hermione recognised as a desperate attempt to change the subject. Harry took the bait, and the two started recounting class. Hermione was pleased, however, because she didn't have to participate and could eat as fast as possible to get to the Library.
Hermione had started a manifesto the previous evening when she couldn't sleep. The manifesto was almost done - all it needed was a strong ending and a list of sources, and it would be ready to be shared. Within it was a simple, three-tiered plan for success: Firstly, they'd secure House-Elves fair pay and wages. Secondly, they'd focus on changing the law about non-wand-use. Lastly, they'd work to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.
At its core, Hermione's plan was simple: to create a consortium of like-minded individuals to fight for House-Elves's rights. A manifesto would be the defining, front-facing philosophy of the group, and would dictate and support their future campaigns. It was paramount for everyone to be on the same page, especially with the number of members Hermione expected to join.
Speaking of members, Hermione wanted them all to feel united, even if there were students from other houses as well. Therefore, Hermione created fifty or so badges for them all to wear. Unfortunately, the name she had been so excited to give to the manifesto, Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status, wouldn't fit on the badges. Instead, Hermione created the acronym "S.P.E.W.", which stood for The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, which fit much better on the badges.
With one last flourish of her quill, Hermione finished the manifesto. She felt incredibly proud and exhilarated at her efforts and nearly spilt her ink in her haste to clean up and return to the Gryffindor Common Room to finally share. She clambered through the portrait hole, carrying a sheaf of parchment in one hand and the box of badges in the other. Thankfully, Harry and Ron were in their favourite chairs, still doing their homework instead of up in their dorm rooms.
"Hello!" she said. "I've just finished!"
"So have I," Ron said, throwing down his quill.
Hermione sat down, laid the manifesto and box of badges in an empty armchair, and pulled Ron's parchment towards her. They appeared to be a month's worth of predictions for Divination.
"Not going to have a very good month, are you?" she asked sardonically as Crookshanks curled into her lap.
"Ah, well, at least I'm forewarned," Ron yawned.
"You seem to be drowning twice," said Hermione, skimming the homework.
"Oh, am I?" said Ron. "I'd better change one of them to getting trampled by a rampaging Hippogriff."
"Don't you think it's a bit obvious you've made these up?" said Hermione.
"How dare you!" said Ron in mock outrage. "We've been working like house-elves here."
Hermione raised her eyebrows and tilted her head, ready to give Ron a piece of her mind.
"It's just an expression," said Ron hastily.
She was about to tell him how "just expressions" were still hurtful, but Harry interrupted her thoughts.
"What's in the box?" Harry asked, pointing at it.
"Funny you should ask," said Hermione with a nasty look at Ron. With great anticipation, she took off the lid and showed them the badges.
"Spew?" said Harry, picking up a badge and looking at it. "What's this about?"
"Not spew," said Hermione impatiently. "It's S-P-E-W. Stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."
"Never heard of it," said Ron.
"Well, of course you haven't," said Hermione sarcastically. "I've only just started it."
"Yeah?" said Ron in mild surprise. "How many members have you got?"
"Well – if you two join – three," said Hermione. This was not how she had anticipated this would go. A familiar twinge of anxiety started deep down in her chest.
"And you think we want to walk around wearing badges saying 'spew.' do you?" said Ron.
"S-P-E-W!" said Hermione hotly. "I was going to put Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status – but it wouldn't fit. So that's the heading of our manifesto."
She brandished the sheaf of parchment at them, knowing they would change their tune once they read her arguments. "I've been researching it thoroughly in the library. Elf enslavement goes back centuries. I can't believe no one's done anything about it before now."
"Hermione – open your ears," said Ron loudly. "They. Like. It. They like being enslaved!"
"Our short-term aims," said Hermione, speaking even more loudly than Ron, and acting as though she hadn't heard a word, "are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions. Our long-term aims include changing the law about non-wand-use and trying to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures because they're shockingly under-represented."
"And how do we do all this?" Harry asked.
"We start by recruiting members," said Hermione happily. "I thought two Sickles to join – that buys a badge – and the proceeds can fund our leaflet campaign. You're treasurer, Ron – I've got you a collecting tin upstairs – and Harry, you're secretary, so you might want to write down everything I'm saying now as a record of our first meeting."
Hermione beamed. It felt so good to share her fight with her best friends finally. However, they were interrupted by a soft tapping on the window. They looked over and saw Hedwig, Harry's snowy owl, perched on the windowsill.
"Hedwig!" Harry shouted and ran over to open the window. Hedwig flew inside and landed on the table on top of Harry's parchment. "About time!" said Harry.
"She's got an answer!" said Ron excitedly, pointing at the grubby piece of parchment tied to Hedwig's leg.
Harry untied it and sat down to read it.
"What does it say?" Hermione asked breathlessly.
Harry read it aloud:
Harry,
I'm flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumours that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore - they're saying he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he's reading the signs, even if no one else is. I'll be in touch soon. My best to Ron and Hermione. Keep your eyes open, Harry.
Sirius
Harry looked up with fear in his eyes, matching Hermione's. "He's flying north?" Hermione whispered. "He's coming back?"
"Dumbledore's reading what signs?" said Ron, looking perplexed. "Harry, what's up?"
Harry had just hit himself in the forehead with his fist.
"I shouldn't've told him!" Harry said furiously.
"What are you on about?" said Ron in surprise.
"It's made him think he's got to come back!" said Harry, now slamming his fist on the table so that Hedwig landed on the back of Ron's chair, hooting indignantly. "Coming back because he thinks I'm in trouble! And there's nothing wrong with me! And I haven't got anything for you," Harry snapped at Hedwig, who was clicking her beak expectantly. "You'll have to go up to the Owlery if you want food."
Hedwig gave him an extremely offended look and took off for the open window, cuffing him around the head with her outstretched wing as she went.
"Harry," Hermione began, trying to calm him down.
"I'm going to bed," said Harry shortly. "See you in the morning."
Harry stormed up the steps, leaving Hermione and Ron alone in the Common Room.
"Well, that went well," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "I'm sure Harry will never have any issues asking for help again."
When Hermione got back to her room, she saw a note on her pillow. One glance at the beautiful green script told her immediately it was a note from Professor McGonagall.
Miss Granger,
If it suits you, please meet Miss Haught and me in my office tonight at 8:30 pm.
Sincerely,
M. McGonagall
A quick look at her watch told Hermione she had to head down now if she didn't want to be late. She ran down the steps and towards Professor McGonagall's office. Inside, Professor McGonagall was pouring some tea to a small, curly-haired blonde girl sitting next to the fire.
"Ah, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall greeted her. "Allow me to introduce you to Miss Haught."
"Hello!" Jillian said brightly. "I'm Jillian!" Hermione realised that she had incorrectly assumed she would have issues understanding Jillian. If she didn't know differently, she'd think she wasn't profoundly deaf!
"Hi, Jillian!" Hermione said, reaching out to shake her hand. "Welcome to Hogwarts!"
"Thank you," Jillian said with a smile.
"I was just pouring Miss Haught a cup of tea," Professor McGonagall said. "Would you like some, Miss Granger?"
"Yes, please," Hermione said, taking a seat. The Gryffindor Head of House busied herself with the kettle.
"I thought we could get straight to the point," Professor McGonagall said. "Miss Haught has prepared a presentation she'd like to share. She explains it much better than I ever could."
"Brilliant!" Hermione said, turning her attention to Jillian.
"Right," Jillian said, seemingly without any sort of trepidation or fear. "So, here goes. I was born completely deaf. My mom and dad wanted me to learn to listen and speak instead of communicating by sign language. Thankfully, something called a cochlear implant was invented, and I was lucky enough to be one of the first kids in the UK to be implanted with one.
"There are two parts to a cochlear implant: the inside part and the outside part," Jillian continued expertly. "The inside part has a processor and electrodes. The electrodes were surgically inserted into my cochlea, a coil inside my ear. In your cochlea, you have tiny hairs that vibrate with sounds and send them to your brain. In my cochlea, the electrodes take the place of those hairs and send electrical impulses to my brain."
"Now, the outer part. Instead of hearing things through my ear, a microphone gathers the sound right here on the earpiece," Jillian brushed aside her curls to reveal an earpiece connected by a wire to a circular button-looking thing. "It is connected to the inside part through a magnet and sends the sounds to the electrodes."
"So what happens if you take the magnet off?" Hermione asked and then immediately blushed. "Sorry, if you don't want to tell me-"
"Oh, it's fine! If I detach the magnet, I hear absolutely nothing."
"Wow," Hermione murmured.
"Right?" Jillian said with a grin. "Like magic! It's come in handy sleeping in the dorms. My roommates snore," Jillian added with a chuckle.
"So do things sound…" Hermione trailed off.
"Normal?" Jillian said.
"Yes, normal."
"Well, I don't know what 'normal' sounds like, but I've been told there is a difference. I had to learn how to listen. Putting on a cochlear implant isn't the same as, say, putting on glasses. I can't magically hear perfectly. I had to go to school to learn what different sounds were and how to understand and replicate them when I speak."
"You're making your own magic," Hermione said warmly.
"I like that," Jillian said. "Cheers!"
"Speaking of magic," Professor McGonagall said, "that's why we are here. Miss Haught, Miss Granger is one of Hogwarts' most accomplished Witches. I would trust her with my life, and I have asked her to learn the spell I've been using to shield your implants from all of the magic in this school."
Hermione was speechless at the incredible compliment.
"I'm sure you will eventually learn it yourself," Professor McGonagall continued, "but in the meantime, we will both be here to assist you."
"I really appreciate it," Jillian said with a smile.
"I'm honoured to be asked to help," Hermione said.
"Miss Granger also comes from a Muggle family," Professor McGonagall said, sipping her own cup of tea. "So I trust you will both have some things in common."
"Whereabouts are you from?" Hermione asked.
"We moved to London to be closer to the doctors," Jillian explained. "You?"
"Lavenham," Hermione said.
"I met someone on the Hogwarts Express from there!" Jillian exclaimed. "Another first year. Owen? I think he was sorted into Ravenclaw."
"Yes!" Hermione said. "I thought I recognised him!"
"I'm sure you two could talk all evening," Professor McGonagall interrupted. "But it's time to turn in for the evening. Miss Granger, I will be in touch about your Contego lessons with Professor Flitwick. Miss Haught, thank you for your candour and trusting us with your hearing."
"Of course!" Jillian said.
"Miss Granger, will you escort Miss Haught back to the Gryffindor Common Room? If Mr Filch has any issues with you both being out past 9, he can discuss it with me. I'd love a chance to spoil his fun," she added with a wink.