Harry Potter belongs to JKR.
Beta by FedererRex
Chapter 6
Hermione's eyes burned as she opened them in the dim morning light filtering through a crack in her curtains. She'd definitely stayed up way too late reading… again. She sat up, crossed her legs, closed her eyes, and controlled her breathing. She found it more difficult to meditate on her bed than on a deserted sandy beach in Sydney, but she felt a bit calmer and more centred after the exercise all the same. Hermione pulled back her bedcurtains to see Julia, already changed into her standard work robes, reading at one of the desks. The transfer student looked over her shoulder, auburn hair framing her face and blue eyes catching Hermione's.
"It's about time, I was about to wake you," Julia said, "Ginny has already gone, said she wanted to catch up with friends."
"Give me a minute," Hermione said, shuffling across the bed and collecting the clothes she'd laid out the night before. She quickly used the girls' washroom, twisted her hair into a messy bun and gave the mirror a cursory glance as she dressed, but refrained from looking too closely so she wouldn't see the cracks in her facade. She pulled on her robe and felt about the pockets for her prefect's badge for a moment before remembering she didn't have one this year. After giving herself a last once over in the mirror, she stepped out to find Julia waiting by the door with a black school bag already slung over one shoulder, and a clip in her hair to keep her fringe out of her face.
"Right, let's go," Hermione said, grabbing her own bag and leading the way out the door.
The common room was empty; if they didn't hurry, they would miss breakfast altogether. Hermione set a rather quick pace, talking as Julia fell into step beside her.
"The fastest way to the Great Hall depends on the day and time, owing to the moving staircases," Hermione said as they descended one such staircase, "you'll get used to it after a week or two, and if you get lost, you can always ask the paintings."
Hermione kept up a steady regurgitation of facts verbatim from 'Hogwarts, a History' as they walked the halls, both to avoid talking about the embarrassing incident the night before, and to avoid looking at any one area too long in case she recognized a spot where someone had died the previous May. Julia stayed silent through the first four floors.
"And there's Sir Cadogan," Hermione said, "he was actually a knight of-"
"I didn't say anything, by the way," Julia interrupted, "to Ginny. About last night."
"Oh. Well... Good. Thanks," Hermione replied.
She absently wondered whether Julia might request a room transfer; it wasn't every day you were assigned to someone who nearly set the curtains on fire the first night. Her mind wandered aimlessly as she automatically skipped over a trick step.
"Oh! Watch out for the…" Hermione started, only to see Julia standing on the same step as her, looking at her with a single arched eyebrow.
"How did you know-?" Hermione asked.
"Prefect warned us last night," Julia replied, scuffing her toe on the ground, "and it's no problem, really. I'll put up wards. The practise can only help."
Hermione nodded and continued towards the Great Hall. They walked for a moment and Hermione's thoughts began to wander again.
"I'm told I'm a good listener," Julia said, interrupting the silence, "it might help to talk."
Hermione shook her head.
"Thank you, but I'm fine," she said.
They entered the Great Hall against the flow of traffic as some students were already leaving, and sat at the nearest open seats at the red and gold table. None of the professors were at their seats; they'd probably already left for their first lesson.
Hermione wolfed down some grilled tomato, eggs, and toast and carried a cup of orange juice with her as Julia followed with one last piece of toast. She led the transfer student to the third floor DADA class where they arrived with less than a minute to spare. The room was exactly the same as she recalled, right down to the iron chandelier and dragon skeleton hanging from the ceiling. The two chairs directly front and centre were empty, which worked out perfectly since it gave Hermione the best seat to hear the lecture and take notes. She was a bit surprised as Julia slid into the seat to her right; most students tended to avoid the front row. Professor Winthrop sat at his desk, elbows on either side of the register scroll, fingers steepled, as he observed the students arriving, his horn-rimmed glasses giving his otherwise youthful features a serious demeanour. Hermione looked around and noted Ginny was already present, seated next to another Gryffindor with long, straight, dirty blonde hair... Julie Parks, Hermione thought her name was, as she noted her prefect's badge. Neville wasn't in the class, which was odd. She'd thought he would have signed up for NEWT DADA, all things considered. Tracey Davis sat alone near the back of the classroom.
Hermione's thoughts were interrupted as Professor Winthrop stood up and began to take the register.
"Granger, Hermione," he said, getting to her name.
"Present," she replied loudly and clearly. His looked as if he was about to say something, then went on to the next name, until he reached Ginny, and finally Julia.
"Here," Julia said. He paused again much as he had for Hermione, staring until Julia shifted uncomfortably and wiped at her mouth, guessing that some remnants of the hastily eaten breakfast remained. Winthrop flicked his wand, and the roll parchment flew neatly onto his desk at the front of the class.
"Excellent, that's everyone. Welcome to year seven Defence Against the Dark Arts," he said with a welcoming gesture of both arms, "my name is Professor Frances Winthrop, and for the next nine and a half months, I will be your instructor as you prepare to take your NEWT in the subject. From this moment forward, there will be no verbal spellcasting in this class; everything we practise is to be cast silently."
The professor paced back and forth across the raised platform at the front of the classroom as he spoke.
"I understand you've had an inconsistent Defence education in the past, with seven different professors over the past seven years, last year being especially harrowing, so we don't have any time to waste."
He had a slight accent that Hermione couldn't quite place, but perhaps that was simply from living abroad for such an extended period of time.
"I may be young, but in my travels, I have seen many things. I have found that in order to gain an appreciation for the Dark Arts, one must have experienced them first-hand," he said.
He paused to ensure he had their full attention.
"I assure you, I am not a Dark Wizard, though if you asked one of my exes, you might receive a different answer," he said with a playful smirk, "I take no responsibility for what certain biased individuals from my youth might tell you."
This elicited a few titters of laughter from the class.
"He's clearly a practised orator," Hermione thought as she glanced around to see the entire class sitting up and leaning forward with keen interest.
"So, let's see where we are," Winthrop said, pausing in his pacing to lean against his desk, "magic is magic, and knowledge is knowledge, and either can be used for good or for ill. Who can tell me one thing that makes magic Dark?"
Hermione's hand shot into the air at the same time as Julia's did.
"Miss White," Winthrop.
"Intent," Julia replied, "For certain Dark spells, you have to want to hurt someone else."
The Golden Girl narrowed her eyes at the auburn-haired girl sitting next to her. It had been almost exactly the answer she would have given if called upon.
"Excellent, and this is especially true of the Unforgivables, I assume we're all familiar with those," Winthrop said, "they simply won't work unless you really want them to; it is one of the reasons why the punishment for using them is so severe. Anyone else?"
Hermione's hand shot into the air again.
"Miss Granger," Winthrop said.
"Injuries caused by Dark curses, weapons, or certain creatures can't be healed properly," Hermione said.
Winthrop nodded.
"Yes, many Dark curses are designed to prevent magical healing," Winthrop said, stopping in front of Julia's seat to look at her as he spoke, "scars from these curses, be they physical or mental, can be permanent."
Hermione's arm itched at the statement and she resisted the urge to scratch through her sleeve as Winthrop continued his pacing.
"And Dark creatures are typically those who, whether to sustain their existence or by their very nature, are driven to hurt or kill humans, though there are exceptions. What about subversion of free will, hmm?" Winthrop asked, "yes, the Imperius curse is illegal, but what about, say, a love potion? Illegal? Possibly, if it was administered without knowledge and depending what came about afterwards, assuming the recipient wished to file a complaint. What about, a cheering charm, cast by a salesman to make a purchase more likely?"
Hermione was the only one to raise her hand this time, at which Winthrop only smiled and gestured for her to put it down, which she did, reluctantly.
"And we come to the point, which is to say, since the Ministry has not made love potions illegal, and has not classified them as Dark magic, then so it is," Winthrop said, "if a cheering charm used to coerce someone to willingly part with galleons they otherwise wouldn't is not Dark and not illegal, then it isn't, though it is immoral. While love potions are highly restricted in many other countries, and there are severe punishments for using them against an unwilling victim, that doesn't matter for your NEWTs."
"We are not here to discuss ethics or morality," Winthrop said, "since in Britain the use of an Unforgivable curse, or blood magic, or certain rituals to save the lives of hundreds, or thousands, is Dark, then in this class, it is."
Hermione thought he held eye contact with her a bit longer as he mentioned Unforgivables, but it could have just been her imagination. The fact they had used the Imperius curse while breaking into Gringotts had never been mentioned to the Aurors or the Unspeakables for exactly this reason. It was clear the laws were flawed; the Ministry would have to break their own rules to avoid sentencing herself, Ron and Harry to Azkaban for life, and there were certainly those who would have liked to see exactly that, with the goblins at the head of the queue.
"As I mentioned at the start of class, my task as an instructor is to prepare you for the NEWT written and practical examination next spring. The syllabus lectures, classroom exercises, and written assignments will be geared towards this end. However, for those of you who wish to further your understanding of how to protect yourselves from wizards or witches who wish you ill, I will be offering supplementary, self-directed practical classes in the evenings," Winthrop said.
"That sounds interesting, almost like an independent study," Hermione thought.
Winthrop might even be able to help her with the anti-obliviation potion and charm she planned to research. Hermione craned her neck around to look at Ginny, who gave a non-committal shrug and mouthed 'quidditch'. She then turned to Julia and found her blue eyes looking back at her own questioningly. She gave a small nod which Julia smiled at and returned.
"Today's topic is Hags," Winthrop said, getting into the day's lesson, "primarily formed from vampire conversions that have gone wrong somehow, they are usually former witches who still possess magic, which is different from wand magic in several ways. They are considered Dark creatures because they require living flesh or blood to sustain their existence and fuel their magic, and they become weakened when subjected to direct sunlight."
As Winthrop wove the threads of his words to form the tapestry of his lecture, Hermione quickly lost all sense of anything but the lesson. The man obviously had passion for the subject. Winthrop's enthusiasm, reflected in the language of his body and the cadence of his voice, infected the class; he knew exactly how to pluck the strings of his audience. She rapidly felt all sense of her sleep deprivation induced fatigue evaporate, replaced by a yearning to know. So engrossed was she that homework of fifteen inches on Hags being assigned was the first Hermione knew of the lesson coming to an end. She, and Julia, along with several others, all signed up for Winthrop's supplemental lessons.
Winthrop's gaze never left Julia as she signed her name, the last to do so, and his eyes followed her as she left the class with Hermione and Ginny, heading for Herbology.
"It seems he actually knows what he's talking about," Hermione said once they were out of earshot, "more than I could say for most of the Defence professors we've had."
"He does seem knowledgeable, but did you see the way he was looking at me?" Julia asked.
"He looked at me too," Hermione said.
"Hermione, you're a war hero, everyone looks at you," Julia replied, "and he didn't look at you as much as he looked at me. He was practically leering."
"I noticed too," Ginny said with a grin, "maybe he fancies you."
Hermione felt her friend gearing up for some patented Weasley ribbing.
"Creepy is what it is," Julia said as they reached the second floor, "he's my Professor, and what, twice my age?"
"A bit older, yes, but he's definitely not hard on the eyes, and I saw you staring right back at him, Julia," Ginny said with a wink.
"He's was giving a lecture, I was paying attention, not staring!" Julia said, with a roll of her eyes, "what, you weren't?"
"Not like you, I'm fairly sure I saw you wiping some drool off your face. And you signed up for 'special lessons' with him, are you going to wear a shorter skirt?" Ginny continued, undeterred, making quotes with her fingers.
The redhead grinned evilly before placing a hand on her chest and sighed in a mock swoon.
"'Oh, Professor Winthrop, could you help me check if there's any Dark magic in my knickers,'" Ginny mimicked.
"Ginny!" Hermione said, scandalized, interrupting Julia's no doubt scathing retort, "Ugh! Sometimes it's so obvious you grew up with six broth-," Hermione said, cutting herself short a split second too late. Uncomfortable silence filled the air as Hermione cursed her inability to keep her bloody mouth shut.
"What… just happened?" Julia asked quietly.
"My older brother Fred was killed a few months ago," Ginny said, all mirth gone from her voice, "just there, a few floors up."
The sombre moment was interrupted by a loud bang and a cry of pain from around the corner. All three of them had their wands out in a flash. Hermione rushed around the corner, Ginny right beside her.
Tracey Davis stood in the middle of a T-junction wearing an expression of disgust and anger, arm outstretched, wand pointed in the face of an inverted and disarmed Gryffindor boy, fourth or fifth year by the look of him. A Slytherin boy, also fourth or fifth year, with his robes partially transfigured into frilly pink fabric, sat on the floor quietly (and poorly) trying to transfigure them back to regular black work robes.
"Who were the other two with you?" Davis asked, "or should we make it a week's worth of detention?"
The Gryffindor, Stevens, Hermione thought his name was, saw her approaching.
"Granger, thank Merlin you're here," Stevens said, "you gotta help me!"
"What's going on here?" Hermione asked, stepping closer.
"Stay out of this, Granger," Tracey said, not taking her eyes off Stevens, "you're not a prefect this year, so unless you're going to-"
"Diffindo," someonewhispered from down around the corner, out of sight from Hermione. Tracey heard it coming and tried to twist away but took it on the shoulder blade. A spatter of blood hit the wall as the blonde Slytherin cried out in pain, and Stevens dropped into a heap, using his hands to protect his head from landing on the stone corridor floor.
"Davis!" Hermione said, a half-dozen spells popping into her head as she put her back to the corner next to the adjoining corridor to keep out of line of sight from where the spell had come from. Tracey scrambled on hands and knees to the opposite corner and sat against the wall.
She leaned forward and awkwardly jammed her wand into the hole in her robes with a grimace.
"Episky," she grunted, but Hermione doubted it would be enough to fully heal the cut.
Hermione felt her breaths coming short and fast. She couldn't hesitate, the enemy was sure to follow up their attack. She leaned around the corner, a confringo on her lips, ready to blast the whole corridor apart. The shrapnel would probably at least injure whoever had attacked them, if it didn't incapacitate them outright. She pulled back at the last possible second as Julia raced around her.
"Stay here Granger," Julia said in passing.
"You better run you little shits!" Julia shouted, tearing off after whoever had fired the severing charm, the sound of her taunts echoing off the stone corridors.
From what felt like very far away, Hermione saw Stevens slowly reach for his wand, only to stop abruptly when Ginny trod on his hand.
"Nope," the redhead said, pointing her wand at him.
Hermione closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing, but Julia's distant insults and the sounds of spellwork and cries of pain and terror bounced around her brain, making it difficult to focus.
"That could have been a student, probably was a student!" Hermione thought, "and I nearly fired blindly, could have killed them."
She shook her head a few times and when she opened her eyes, all four of the others in the corridor were watching her warily.
"Hermione, are you okay?" Ginny asked, her wand still trained on Stevens.
"I'm fine, why?" Hermione asked.
"You were mumbling to yourself," Ginny said.
Julia chose that moment to reappear from around the corner, using her wand to levitate the bound and unconscious forms of two more Gryffindor students behind her. They both appeared to be unharmed, just stunned, Hermione was relieved to see. Julia was breathing hard, her cheeks flushed, but her grin spoke of exhilaration, and she generally looked quite pleased with herself.
"Here are the other shits," Julia said, "dunno their names."
"Wildy and Marcos," Ginny said, "they're fifth years, along with Stevens here."
"Yes well, they're shite at disillusionment, and duelling, and pretty much everything else," Julia said, unceremoniously dropping them from a height of about a foot onto the floor and handing both their wands to Tracey Davis.
"Tracey, you should get that checked by Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said.
"I will, Hermione," Tracey said, emphasizing the first name basis Hermione had switched to, "right after I drop these three off at Winthrop's. Hopefully he's not as biased as McGonagall was."
She bent over to pick up Stevens' wand, and levitated him along with the other two.
"You're a damn blood supremacist and you know it," Stevens said as Davis levitated him.
"Shut up, Stevens, you're in deep enough as it is," Tracey said, "Silencio."
She turned to Julia as Stevens kept mouthing insults silently.
"Thanks, didn't catch your name," she said, "I'm Tracey Davis."
"Julia White," Julia replied, "maybe don't stand with your back to a corridor next time, Davis."
Tracey sent her a withering look, then turned to the Slytherin who had by now finally managed to get his robe transfigured back to the way it was supposed to look.
"Alright Michaels?" she asked.
"Yeah, thanks," he said, breathing a heavy sigh.
"You're coming with me," Davis said and Michaels nodded, "we'll need your story for Winthrop so he can figure out punishment for these three."
"White, Granger, Weasley," Tracey said, "thanks. And see you around."
With a round of 'byes', Davis left with the trio of fifth year Gryffindors as Michaels followed, a slump in his shoulders.
"What was all that about?" Julia asked once they were alone again.
There was a moment of silence while Hermione wondered the same thing.
"Oh right, I forgot you weren't here over the summer," Ginny said to Hermione, clearly used to the older girl's habit of answering every question.
"Almost all of the Death Eaters and Tom's… err Tom Riddle's supporters were purebloods, or from Slytherin," Ginny replied as they continued walking, "often both, so unless you were an outspoken supporter of Dumbledore, or Harry, like my family was… I guess the world's been a bit more hostile to the snakes lately. Plus, a lot of people are hurting, lost loved ones, looking for someone to blame."
Ginny shrugged and chewed her lower lip thoughtfully.
"I guess I can sympathize with them a bit," Ginny said, "not that I would do anything like what those three did, but I can understand how they feel."
"It makes sense," Hermione said, squinting as they stepped out of the castle and into the mid-morning sun, "hopefully nobody's been hurt."
"Not seriously hurt anyway," she amended, remembering Tracey's shoulder. Somehow, she suspected things would get worse before they got better.
They arrived at the greenhouses and found the one their class was assigned to. The air inside was much warmer than the chilly early autumn morning outside, and Hermione loosened her tie a bit as they made their way to the far side of the greenhouse. The distinctive smell of warm, moist vegetation made her reflexively inhale, and it smelled so much of life she couldn't help but fill her lungs completely with it. Professor Sprout waited for them at the end of the table, and towering over her was Neville Longbottom, laying out the last of the pruning shears they would apparently be using during the class.
"Morning Neville, you're here early," Hermione said.
"Morning Hermione," Neville said, "I've actually been here for hours. Professor Sprout agreed to let me apprentice under her, so I'm assisting her with all her classes."
"Oh, that's wonderful," Hermione said, "you don't have any regular classes then?"
"Nope," Neville replied with a grin, "but I still get Hogsmeade weekends and I can still eat with the students this year. Best of both worlds."
His eyes caught on something over her shoulder and he stood up a bit straighter.
"Morning Julia," he said, "how are you finding Hogwarts so far?"
"Interesting. I've already had to deflect hexes from three different people," Julia replied.
Neville looked back to Hermione questioningly.
"Scuffle in the halls," Hermione explained.
"Ah well, you'll have to tell me about it sometime," Neville said.
"Not much to tell, but alright," Julia said.
Sprout chose that moment to interrupt Neville's next question as she began taking the register. Hermione started feeling uncomfortably hot in the humid greenhouse air as she hoped Julia wouldn't tell anyone about her little incident the night before. After she'd blacked out on platform 9 ¾, she didn't need any more fodder for the press about her mental condition. Once the register was completed, Sprout placed the parchment back on the desk and gestured to the shears.
"Today we're going to be trimming back the fire ivy which has invaded greenhouse three over the summer," Sprout said, "the oils on the leaves have a caustic reaction and if you get too close, they'll try to wrap around you, so please be careful."
The herbology professor gestured to some gardening tools stacked in the rear of the greenhouse.
"Pair up, one student use the prods to distract the ivy while the other cuts the vines. If you find any flower bulbs please notify either myself or Mr. Longbottom and we will retrieve them, as they have medicinal qualities. Please do not try to harvest them yourselves. Right, gloves on, let's get to work."
The students retrieved the shears and prods and filed over to greenhouse three. Hermione worked with Ginny while Julia worked with Neville until Tracey arrived to take his place, robe repaired, apparently healed, and looking none the worse for wear. Eventually Hermione and Ginny found a bulb and called Neville over.
"Keep it back," Neville called as Hermione wrestled with the ivy wrapped around the end of her prod.
He retrieved a small glass jar with a special lid from a pocket and encased the flower bulb in it. With a quick motion, he snapped a guillotine blade edge over opening of the jar, severing the bulb from the vine and sealing the bottle at the same time. Ginny then clamped the shears forcefully, severing the limb, and the vine twitched a few times before falling limp.
"Neville, could I have a word with you after class?" Hermione asked.
"Sure," Neville replied as he was called over to another pair of students.
Hermione dropped the vine into the growing pile outside greenhouse three. The severed plants already smouldered with exposure to the air, and it wouldn't be long before the whole thing went up in a bonfire, consuming the oils in the process. By the time class finished, sweat soaked large portions of Hermione's shirt beneath her robes, but she and Ginny had managed to avoid getting burned even once.
"Good job everyone," Sprout said, "twelve inches on the medicinal and potion qualities of fire ivy flower bulbs. See you all on Tuesday."
Hermione walked over to Neville, waving goodbye to Julia and Ginny as they headed to lunch.
"Hey Hermione, have a good summer?" he asked.
"N-not so much," Hermione replied, "listen, I'm working on a special project this year. It's going to be really difficult but it's important."
"Alright," Neville said, growing serious and giving her his full attention.
"I'm going to try to combine a potion and a charm to undo obliviation," she said.
"That's impossible," Neville said immediately, "long term obliviation damage can't be undone."
"Creating the Philosopher's Stone was impossible until someone did it the first time too," Hermione said, "every spell or potion ever created was impossible until someone did it. Anyway, it's really important to me and I'm already set on it, so don't try to talk me out of it."
Neville nodded.
"Alright, what do you need from me?" he asked.
"That's the great thing about Neville, he's always there when you need him," Hermione thought.
"I was hoping to sit with you from time to time and discuss the various qualities and interactions of potential potion ingredients," Hermione said, "you're the best I know at Herbology."
Neville gave a small grin at the compliment, then furrowed his brow.
"But Professor Sprout, or Slughorn-", he started.
"Professor Sprout wouldn't really waste her time because she already knows it's impossible, and Professor Slughorn, well, he was retired once already, and it's been decades since he did his mastery. And I suspect a potions mastery was just a way for him to meet interesting people."
"In other words, he'd be bloody useless and he'd spend the entire time trying to chat me up or introduce me to others to elevate himself," Hermione thought.
Neville nodded slowly.
"When it comes to you and Harry and Ron, I probably shouldn't rule anything out as impossible," Neville said, "of course I'll help, just say the word."
"Thanks Neville, it really means a lot to me," Hermione said.
Neville nodded.
"Say, that transfer student, Julia White," Neville said, changing the subject, and fiddling with his gloves, "you're rooming with her, right? How is she?"
"Clever," Hermione said, "good at duelling, I suppose. She's going to try out for quidditch. I don't really know much about her to be honest. Why, interested?"
Hermione sent Neville a mischievous grin.
"Maybe," Neville said, his cheeks reddening slightly, "she seems interesting."
"Uh-huh," Hermione said, "d'you want me to put in a good word for you?"
"Oh, no need," Neville said, shaking his head.
"Right," Hermione said, "I'll see what I can find out. Thanks again Neville."
"Don't mention it," Neville said as he went back to hanging up the shears and prods and Hermione left the greenhouse.
Rather than head straight to Great Hall for lunch, Hermione walked down to the dungeons, to the main Potions classroom. The class finished just as she arrived, tiny first year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws gawking at her as they passed in the corridor. She waited politely for the class to empty completely before knocking and entering. Slughorn's rotund mass swivelled from the blackboard and he broke into a broad grin as he recognized her.
"Miss Granger, come in, come in," he said, motioning to her.
"It's so good to see one of my students returning to continue their education," he said, "can I get you anything?"
He opened a locked cabinet just to the side of his desk with several bottles inside which looked suspiciously like alcohol.
"No thank you, Professor," Hermione said as he poured himself a finger of amber liquid into a small, crystal pony glass.
"Ah well, it's probably best not to imbibe with a student, even though we both know you're well beyond NEWT level by now, and an accomplished witch in your own right," Slughorn said, replacing the bottle with a *clink* and taking a small sip, "of course you'll have a seat at the Slug Club this year."
"Err, right," Hermione said, "actually I wanted to see about the potions laboratory McGonagall said I would be able to use this year?"
"Ah, yes, of course," Slughorn replied. He downed the contents of the glass in one swallow and placed it back in the cabinet.
"Right this way," he said, turning sideways to fit between the potions desks and heading down the hall.
"This potions classroom fell out of use during my first stint as professor," Slughorn said, unlocking a door about a fifty feet from the main potions room, "the Headmistress had the elves clean everything out before the term started."
The door swung open to reveal a potions lab similar to the one she was used to, but of smaller dimensions. There was even an ingredients storage room.
"I understand you'll be taking on an independent study, something about researching a cure for obliviation?" Slughorn said, "Fascinating topic, to be sure. I can make myself available for advice and counsel, should you require. You'll also have access to a portion of the school ingredients stores, within reason."
"Thank you, Professor. Any guidance would be appreciated," Hermione said politely, inspecting one of the cauldron stands.
"Of course, of course," Slughorn said, "anything for a hero of the second wizarding war."
He handed the large iron potions lab key to Hermione.
"I'll see you at the next Slug Club, watch for the invitation," Slughorn said.
"Wouldn't miss it," Hermione said drily.
"I'll leave you to it, then, lunchtime, you know," Slughorn said, "after all, a waist is a terrible thing to mind."
He chuckled at his own play on words.
"Good luck, Miss Granger," he added.
Slughorn left the room humming a cheerful tune, and Hermione thought he was far too happy considering everything that had happened the previous spring, and the direct role he'd had in enabling Voldemort's resurrection.
"Perhaps he's dosing himself with cheering draughts," Hermione thought, and the more she considered it, the more likely it seemed.
She glanced around the potions lab. It had almost everything she needed, except for a few rolling blackboards for devising the arithmantic equations, but those she could appropriate from one of the multiple unused classrooms on the upper floors. She'd have to ward the lab as well, wouldn't want Slughorn or any curious students messing about with her experimental brews.
After locking the door to her(!) potions lab, Hermione exited the dungeons and made her way to the library. A whispered conversation with Madam Pince confirmed she had access to the Restricted Section, and naturally she wanted to go in and have a look. Not that Hermione hadn't been inside the rows of blue lit racks of nasty books before, but this time she was able to take her time and peruse the titles, which was a treat all in itself. She found several likely sources of useful information in the first pass and made a note of their locations before she started reading, just for a bit…
Hermione emerged from the library an indeterminate amount of time later, but it was clearly after dark. As she pushed open the door to the Gryffindor common room, she was nearly ambushed by Julia.
"There you are," Julia said, "you missed lunch!"
"And dinner," Ginny added from one of the couches, where she paged through a copy of Witch Weekly.
"I'm fine," Hermione said, moving into the common room and grabbing an apple from a platter someone had set out on one of the tables. She took a bite and headed up to the dormitory, stripped off her outer robes and her tie, and tossed them over the back of her chair. She kicked off her shoes, climbed into her bed, and closed the curtains. Hermione heard the two other girls come up a few minutes later as she ploughed through the final chapters of the Rise and Fall of Tom Riddle Jr, vanishing the apple core once she was done with it.
Finished, Hermione closed the book on Tom Riddle with a creak of leather, and then, without the distraction of the potions lab or anything else, she the enormity of the task before her and the weight of what she'd done to 'protect' her parents bent her spirit with its crushing certainty. What had seemed like the best and only option at the time revealed itself to be worse by varying degrees than at least a half-dozen other options she'd come up with after the fact and over the course of two months of near-solitude in Australia. By then though, it was far too late. She felt her breath quicken as the walls of an inevitability of her own creation closed in on her, and the realization that this nine-month researching sprint was her last hope of getting her parents back, that failure meant losing them forever. Hermione waited until Julia was in the loo before throwing the curtains open and staring with desperation at a startled Ginny Weasley.
"I'm not fine, Ginny," Hermione said as Ginny stared open-mouthed, "I'm so incredibly, ludicrously far from fine."
Hermione practically vaulted off her bed and started pacing the floor in her stocking feet.
"Obliviation spell damage is incurable, everyone knows its incurable," Hermione said, gesturing with one hand while the other clutched at her chest, "There's an entire ward at St. Mungo's for people who have no memories. I'm literally trying to do the impossible, and if I can't do it, if I mess up, I've lost my parents forever, and it's my own fault."
She paced a few more lengths of the room, shaking her head and mumbling to herself, and only stopped when Ginny stood directly in her path. The redhead placed her hands on Hermione's shoulders to offer a grounding she clearly didn't feel, and stared into her eyes. All Hermione could think of, stupidly, was that Ginny's eyes were a very different shade of brown from her own.
"Stop. It's not your fault," Ginny said, "it was Tom, and his followers. You did what you had to, to protect them."
She pulled Hermione into a tight hug.
"You're the most brilliant witch I know, if anyone can do it, you can," she said, "you saved Harry and Ron so many times, and you're going to save your parents too, and when you do, they're going to have to come up with a new award to give you when all those patients in St. Mungo's are cured. Though, maybe we could leave Lockhart there."
Hermione gave a wet half-chuckle, half-sob. When had she started crying?
"That's not all," Hermione said, clutching the back of Ginny's robes into her fists, "I think the stress is getting to me. Today, with Davis, on the way to Herbology, for a split-second I was back at the battle. I nearly blew that corridor apart. I… I don't know what I would do if I hurt someone. I could have killed those kids today."
"Occulmency," Julia said from one side.
Hermione quickly stepped back from Ginny, wiped her cheeks with her sleeve and bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling. She looked over to see Julia standing barefoot in front of the door wearing only a fluffy white towel around her body as steam poured out of the room, hair soaking wet and plastered to her head.
"Sorry, I couldn't help overhearing," Julia said, "but occlumency will help you compartmentalize your feelings and memories. Or so I'm told."
She walked over to her trunk, pulled out a purple nightgown and applied a drying charm to her hair before ducking behind her bed's curtains to change.
"Well, there you go," Ginny said.
"Right. Occulmency, no problem," Hermione said.
Julia emerged and tossed her towel over her trunk to dry. Hermione retrieved the book from her bed and handed it to the auburn-haired girl.
"I just finished it," Hermione said.
Julia looked down at the book and the picture of a handsome young Tom Riddle Jr. juxtaposed with Lord Voldemort on the cover.
"Is it accurate?" she asked.
"Every word," Hermione said.
In the interviews, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had agreed to deliberately leave out some sensitive specifics the general public didn't need to know, like the details of the horcruxes, or the Deathly Hallows, but what information was in the book was true.
Julia nodded.
"Thanks for letting me borrow it," Julia said, "I'm sure it'll make for interesting reading."
Hermione nodded. The lack of sleep and the stress of the day was catching up to her and her mind felt full of cobwebs.
"I'm exhausted, I'm going to turn in early," Hermione said, "goodnight Julia, Ginny."
"Night Hermione," Julia said before disappearing behind her bedcurtains.
"Night," Ginny said before furrowing her brow.
"What's with the wards?" Ginny asked as Julia erected the barriers.
"Oh, about that…" Hermione said, preparing for how best to inform Ginny she'd almost set fire to the room the previous evening whilst they all slept...