"Yessir," Hermione nodded keeping as much distance as she could.
"Is that all you have to say?" Severus asked.
Silence, her gaze fixed on the floor and rather than shrinking into the nearest wall, she stood rigid and erect, more like a little soldier than a girl speaking with her father. He had expected her to have some kind of emotion, to either be upset at being sent away or excited at the prospect of going to Japan. Perhaps a mixture of the two, but this dead reception was nothing short of eerie.
"Do you have any questions?" he asked.
She shook her head, the only part of her body language giving away a hint of an emotion was the sadly familiar clawing at her own hands. He had agreed to something quite major without asking for her input, and she had staggering little to say about it. Though Hermione had been expert at avoiding him by now, it seemed her decision not to speak to him extended to such criticisms. He doubted she understood that sending her away was the last thing he wanted to do; he also imagined that she didn't understand he was doing this for her own safety.
He had planned to explain those things to her, but he started to doubt anything more he had to say would be processed. It was as if she were counting the seconds until he excused her. Now that he knew that she knew about his modifying her memory...well, he couldn't blame her, could he? Maybe he should have waited for Yamato's reply. But what if he agreed? Could he just say 'pack your things you leave for Japan Saturday week'? There was no winning...
"I will let you know what's going on as soon as I get a reply what will be going on," he sighed. "You may leave."
"Yessir," she said in a detached voice. "Thank you, sir."
He watched her leave the classroom knowing she would return to the shadows only appearing in classes and expertly slipping out before anyone had a chance to speak with her. At least this meant Quirrell would have trouble getting a hold of her even if he couldn't send her away before July. He returned to his desk and wonderedif there was more to her new cold demeanour than his admitting to using a memory charm on her. Such a grim child, as if she possessed some cursed knowledge...that worried him.
As the week progressed he noticed a dread shared between Hermione, Potter and Weasley, each trying as hard as possible not to acknowledge his existence in classes. How often had he spied the boys whispering in the corridors with grim expressions on their faces. He had no clue how they knew, but it was evident the boys knew about the stone, as well as Hermione...all he'd done was for naught. And now there was the additional challenge Potter being involved. Was the boy trying to get himself killed?
Mid-week, he finally got his reply from Yamato, and he couldn't say he was surprised to see that Yamato was unable to accept her earlier than July. Moving forward without that option was something he prepared for. He cast a sideways glance at Quirrell who chased his lunch around his plate, looking quite pale and frail. Perhaps he cracked under the pressure or realized just what he had gotten himself into...though he knew that was wishful thinking. He followed him everywhere when he could. The message was clear, Quirrell would have to get past him or face the wrath of his supposed master...Quirrell was bound to do something stupid and soon.
Until then, he would proceed as he had been in the upcoming weeks.
As the weeks progressed Hermione poured herself into revisions and spent her time out of class in the library, choosing to retreat back to the secret passage she discovered in the summer and hid away from anyone who might want to speak with her. After the episode in the broom cupboard, she didn't know how to talk to Harry and Ron. Every time they saw her she could see the damn pity in their eyes. How often had she bumped into Ron only to see him open his mouth before pressing his lips into a thin line. Harry was no different. Both of them seemed so torn between giving her space and talking to her...Hermione made the decision for them.
For the life of her, she had no idea how she managed to get through the weeks worth of written and practical exams with so much on her mind. But they did offer her a reprieve, permission to think of something other than what she knew she had to do and soon. She would find Harry and Ron, letting them know that she was with them in going off after the stone. It was only a manner of time before Quirrell broke down and gave her father whatever information he needed to steal the stone. Was the entire staff working together to protect it? She remembered that many of them worked together over the summer in secret, she imagined it was on the stone's protections, meaning he would have no clue how Quirrell's would work...that must have been what he wanted.
"I'm with you," Hermione told Harry and Ron in a whisper. "I can't let this happen...no matter what I feel..."
"Are you sure about this?" Harry asked. "If comes down to it...Could you?"
Hermione gulped. If it came down to that, she didn't think they'd survive. And she doubted she could...no, they would go, steal the stone and give it to Dumbledore before anything could happen. Getting the stone permanently away from Voldemort was what mattered. Hermione couldn't allow herself to think of the conflict if it came to it.
"I'll do what needs to be done," she whispered in a broken voice.
"Okay," Ron said. "What's the plan?"
"We still need to figure out how to get passed Fluffy," Harry mused. "Once we know that...And Snape nearly lost his leg, so he won't be like to try it before then either..."
"At least it's not Norbert guarding him," Ron scoffed. "That would be a disaster."
"Ron!" Hermione squealed. "You're a genius! Hagrid always wanted a dragon, they could have..."
"Used the dragon to pry information out of Hagrid!" Harry finished with a gasp. "You knew Hagrid always wanted a dragon, Hermione, did Snape too?"
"Yes," Hermione choked. Now that she found her resolve, she didn't know why each new piece of evidence her father was a Death Eater shattered her.
"Let's go to Hagrid's," Harry said. "Hermione, you can use my cloak, we definitely don't want you caught out of the tower right now."
Hermione nodded and the three went to visit Hagrid.
Hagrid beamed at their arrival and put the kettle on, nearly spilling the water when he saw Hermione throw off the cloak.
"Blimey," Hagrid sighed. "I'll have ter get used ter tha'..."
"Wha's on yer minds?" he asked as the three perched themselves.
"We, erm," Harry started. "Hagrid, we were wondering how you managed to get a dragon egg."
"Oh, well, erm, yer see, Harry..." Hagrid told them about the card game at the Hogshead with a gambler who miraculously wanted to gamble with a bloody dragon egg. Was Hagrid so blinded by his desire for a dragon that he didn't question it? He was patient with the line of questioning from the three of them, which allowed them not only to discover the mysterious gambler was male, cloaked, and dangerously curious. A curiousity Hagrid sated when he bragged about how good he was with magical creatures, and told him about Fluffy!
"'Sall about how you handle 'em," he beamed. "I tol' him if ye play him a bi' o' music, he'll fall right to sleep!"
Oh, Hagrid, you poor man...why? But instead Hermione changed the subject. "So, you know that we know, erm..."
"Ye three aren' still on abou' tha' bloody stone are ye?"
Harry opened his mouth, but Hermione sent an elbow into his ribs...not as gently as she probably should have. "You told us it's safe, Hagrid, and we believe you. But we were wondering, who, aside from you, obviously, that Dumbledore would trust enough to defend the stone?"
Hagrid listed everyone Hermione suspected, including her father, and she knew it was Quirrell's defencce that he couldn't get past. But with how Quirrell had been behaving lately, and Harry reporting he found him in a classroom crying...all three of them knew they had to act now.
Hermione recloaked and the three left Hagrid to find Dumbledore. Hermione still didn't know about it...but he seemed to be the only person they could even remotely trust. Hermione wished she could just destroy it...but that meant the death of at least two people, and she knew she was a monster for even considering it.
"What are you boys doing inside?" McGonagall asked with an armload of books. "It's beautiful out."
"We need to speak to Professor Dumbledore!" Harry blurted after a stilted silence.
Professor McGonagall informed them that Dumbledore was out on urgent ministry business and dismissed Harry's concerns that it was important. That was when Harry and Ron both blurted out that it was about the stone, prompting McGonagall to drop her books and stare at them.
"How did you find out?" she whispered in a low, dangerous voice.
"Erm," Harry bit his lip.
"Hermione..." Ron blurted. "She,erm, over the summer she figured you were up to something..."
Damn it, Ron!
"And she told us about it on Hallowe'en, because..." Ron breathed. "Because she said she thought whoever let the troll in was after it..."
"And we think Sn-someone's trying to steal it now!" Harry said.
McGonagall rolled her eyes. "I don't know how she managed to sneak around enough to find out, nor why she told you two and not us. A teacher's daughter, you'd think we'd be the first she came to! Either way, I assure you, the stone is perfectly safe, and none of your business. I would relay that to her as well! I had better not catch any of you skulking around!"
She stormed off after recollecting her books and that left the three of them looking around dumbstruck.
"If Dumbledore's not here..." Ron whispered. "What are we supposed to do?"
"I don't..."
"And what are you boys doing inside on such a lovely day?" her father's voice interrupted their whispering.
The two looked at each other before turning their gaze back to him.
"I would be careful standing around and speaking in hushed tones," he told them. "Don't want to be losing Gryffindor any more points because someone thinks you're up to something. And poor Hermione would be simply livid to find out you've wasted any opportunities to be outdoors."
He wasn't exactly wrong that she was jealous of those who could roam freely, but bringing up the restrictions he imposed like it was circumstances out of their control made her remember every last thing he'd done. All in the name of what? Her safety? If she was damaged, it was his fault...unless you were born broken... No, she didn't have time to think about that.
"And Potter," he said. "If I hear about anymore nightly escapades, I will personally see to you expulsion."
"Hermione," Harry whispered to her. "Ron and I will be watching the corridor, you should keep an eye on Snape."
Just spying on your father...what could go wrong?
Hermione watched her father in the staff room look over his newspaper several times to stare at Quirrell, who shrank and shuddered when he caught it before returning to his conversation with Flitwick. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife, but the other professors failed to pick up on it. All chatting about how glad they were the year was at an end soon, as if they were children excited for a holiday.
The tension became much more clear when McGonagall entered the room, staring at her father, nostrils flaring and a fire jumping behind her spectacles.
Her father immediately leapt up and leaned in close. "What happened?"
"Your daughter..." she hissed.
"Is she..." colour drained from his face.
"She knows about the stone, Severus."
"Might I suggest you don't burst into the room with no words but 'your daughter'?" he snapped. "I thought something had happened to her!" Worry lingered on his face, but the drained immediate horror left and he stopped reaching for his wand. "Do you know how she knows?"
"That's exactly what I'd like to know!" she hissed. "Potter and Weasley seem to think she found out during the summer. Told them all about it after Hallowe'en because she thought someone let the troll in as a diversion so they could steal it. But if you had her on such a tight leash, how could she?"
"I don't know," he said in a low, cold voice. "Perhaps those boys lied to you? I know there's no way she could have known by then...They know expelling her would be presented with unique challenges, I imagine they think she's safe if they threw her under the train? And my daughter's no idiot (I would have assumed different by the way you speak to me!) she would have come to me if she'd suspected something so dangerous would fall into the wrong hands. If not me, then you or the headmaster."
"We both know that's a load of cock and bull, Severus!" McGonagall snapped.
"Shit," he sighed, and Hermione thought she saw him glance over to Quirrell. "I have no idea how she knows. I'll talk to her about it tomorrow after my class with her. She won't be doing anything stupid. I suggest you find a way to deter the boys. I'm not sure how effective I was with them..."
"Already taken care of!" she said. "Found those little fools sniffing around the corridor and told them I would deduct enough points to put them in the negatives, and if that didn't work, I'd write their parents."
"I see," he mused.
Quirrell excused himself among this conversation, Hermione moved so he wouldn't bump into her on his way out. She didn't like how close she had to hoover near the door to ensure she had a way out.
McGonagall moaned about Hermione's behaviour the past few weeks. "And to think, she had the nerve to say 'did you even launch an investigation'! I would suggest-"
"I shall talk to her about all of this tomorrow and she will apologize," he said. "I'm loathe to remind you, but you are aware you can expel her?"
Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle a gasp.
"Severus," McGonagall gasped in her stead.
"Neither of us want that, but she doesn't know that," he shrugged. "You'll find that threat much more effective than moaning to me. Now, as I said, I will talk to her, but I'm afraid I really do have to go."
Hermione crept out behind him, careful not to leave the door open too long or get too close. He constantly checked over his shoulders as he turned corners. Did he expect to be followed. Terror mounted as she realised he was making his way to the third floor. Was this it? Hermione gripped her wand in case he made a move for the door. He stopped half way to the forbidden corridor.
"And here I thought I was following you," he said coldly. "It'll be so much easier if you just show yourself."
Hermione pressed up against the wall. She had been so quiet, how could he know someone was following him?
"Come out, Quirrell," he turned around, wand in hand. "Now. Or I will find you."
Why would Quirrell be following him? Is this a stalemate between the two? Hermione's heart pounded in her chest as he approached her. Until, from the opposite corner, Quirrell did emerge.
"I-I-I w-w-wasn't f-following y-you!" he squeaked. "I-I w-w-was j-just..."
"Save it!" he spat. "Don't think I didn't notice you left immediately after McGonagall revealed those three knew about the stone!"
"B-b-but..."
"Oh drop the act!" he hissed.
"P-please d-don't h-hurt m-me, S-Severus!" he sniffed.
"Leave and we can both pretend nothing happened."
"O-of c-c-course," he said, his squeaky voice and trembling hands betrayed by...a smirk? What was Hermione missing? "B-but th-think o-of p-p-poor l-little H-Hermione..."
Whatever Quirrell was about to say, Hermione would never know because he was cut off, not by a spell, but by a loud smack as her father back handed his face. The man fell to the ground, and looked horrified as her father pointed his wand at him. "If you ever even look in my daughter's direction, so much as say her name, I do not care what the consequences are!" he snarled. "Threaten my child again and I will kill you! I told you back in the forest, without her I have nothing left to lose. Be very careful who you threaten."
Quirrell whimpered and scampered off to a lower floor. She watched her father take one last look around before seem heading down the stairs himself.
"He's gone mad!" Hermione whispered, trying not to cry back in the common room. "He's threatened to kill Quirrell. And Quirrell...I guess he'd been trying to use me as leverage to get him to stop. I guess now I know why my father thought I was in danger...I thought it was just his usual paranoia, or else trying to get me out of this mess..."
Without her I have nothing left to lose! Was that what Quirrell was about to say in the forest? Was "think of your-" going to be finished with daughter? She thought his warning back then was to tell Quirrell not to threaten him. However, if it was a threat to her that made him go mad, maybe, just maybe if she cut him off before going to retrieve the stone, she could stop him without anyone getting hurt?
"We have to go for the stone tonight!" Harry said.
Harry and Ron met Hermione on the stairs to the boys' dormitory nothing more than her wand, flute and a heart that refused to beat anything less than five times it's normal speed. They were actually doing this. Hermione desperately hoped the three of them would beat her father to the site, if they got the stone first, all they'd have to do is play keep away...They just had to get their first.
A hitch in the plan took the form of a round faced boy in a blue dressing gown clutching his toad.
"Neville?" Hermione asked. "Is everything alright? Maybe you should go back to bed? You look awfully pale."
"Dreadful!" Harry agreed.
"Sleep would definitely..." Ron started but was cut off.
"I'm not letting you three take any more points from our house!" Neville said. "I-I can't let you go out! I'll fight you!"
"Neville!" Harry hissed. "This is really important. I don't expect you to understand, but you have to let us through!"
"Move, Neville!" Ron joined in. "Now!"
"You were the one that told me I have to stand up for myself!"
Ron shook. "But not with us! Come on, Neville, we're your mates!"
"Are you?" he scoffed.
"I want us to be," Hermione said in a very small and solemn voice. I do what I must... "Which is why I'm so, so sorry about this, Neville."
She raised her with a shaking hand (Come on, you set your own father on fire...do it, you coward!) and tried not to look into Neville's wide blue eyes, she terrified him.
"Petrificus Totalis!"
Neville's arms pressed to his sides and legs locked together before he fell to the scarlet carpet with a loud thud. He laid there looking betrayed, his eyes combing over the three of them.
Hermione ripped a cushion and yellow afghan from a sofa and covered Neville after placing the cushion under his head. The truth was it probably eased Hermione's guilt more than Neville's discomfort. She apologized again before joining the boys under the invisibility cloak.
Silent as the grave, the three of them crept along the walls, careful to avoid any detection. Hermione read doom in every sound from Peeves, muted conversations of teachers or birds. She knew she was being ridiculous, but she couldn't help it. For a moment they thought they were actually detected as a pair of lamp yellow eyes stared at them intently. Did the cloak not work on cats? Or did Mrs. Norris smell them?
"Oh," Ron whispered. "Can we? Can we kick her this once?"
Is everything a joke to you, Ron?
They made it to the forbidden corridor without further incident, and they braced themselves to play for Fluffy immediately. Harry already had his flute (also made by Hagrid) resting under his lips and the three entered. Fluffy started barking at the three of them, but he lacked the intensity he had when they first came upon him. Harry played a soothing melody immediately, and Fluffy's massive eyes drooped as he stretched and lowered himself to the ground.
It worked! But Hermione hadn't time to celebrate when she saw something gold glinting at the dogs massive paws. Resting at his feet was an abandoned harp. He was already here! They didn't beat him to it. Something else, something rather silly actually, nagged at her as she moved the harp to open the trapdoor. Did her father even play the harp? Granted, it wouldn't be the first thing she didn't know about him, nor the biggest, but it did bother her.
The thought left as Ron and Hermione stared down into the darkness of the trapdoor. The light from Hermione's wand cut off, and there was no sign of a ground. Was this a bottomless pit? No, that was stupid! But still, Hermione dug her nails into wrist with her free hand as she tried to steady her breathing. What if they fell forever? That was worse than the shattering impact of the ground. Nothing, no sound, no feeling, just darkness and complete disorientation without any hope of regaining control.
"You first," Ron whispered. "Go on, Hermione, we don't have...are you okay? I'll go first then?"
Harry shook his head and pointing at himself.
"You want to go first?" Ron said. "But Fluffy-"
Hermione sheathed her wand and dug out her own flute, continuing Harry's melody as she watched each boy jump down. Her heart pounded in her ears, and every last fibre of her being told her to turn back, but Hermione shut her eyes, still playing and jumped praying that the ground was forgiving, or at least that she didn't have to fall for too long. She hit the ground, and it was, indeed much more forgiving than she had anticipated.
The relief was short-lived. All along the damp stone walls, and cloying thick air, thick green tendrils danced and writhed around them. "Nobody move a muscle..." Hermione gulped. "Steady your breathing. This is the Devil's Snare."
Hermione wasn't having luck following her own advice, but she hadn't been in its grasp for too long. She untied herself from the tendrils around her ankles and found a bare patch of floor. Ron squirmed and the tendrils choked at him, Harry only fared slightly better, the snare cared much more for the struggling Ron.
Shit! Shit! Shit! Your friends are going to die here if you don't do something! This is all your fault! Do something! But she could only watch in horror as Ron's face contorted in agony, she could just barely see his face now. She tried to remember something she'd read in herbology ages ago. Devil's Snare...likes the cold and damp...cold...damp...Shit! Fire! But you can't hurt them!...Incendio would completely engulf the plant...and them...what can I...I set my father on fire once...
Hermione muttered her choice words to summon the bluebell flame she had created over the summer. It would still play to the Devil's Snare's vulnerability to fire, but Harry and Ron would have to sit in it for minutes to sustain damage! The flames danced, casting blue light across the room, crackling and popping on the Snare's moist vines. The tendrils loosened around both of them and they ran to Hermione's patch of floor, eyes wide, faces pale and covered in fungal sweat.
"You couldn't have done that sooner?!" Ron choked. "It was the troll all over again. Promise me you're not going to freeze up like that again! It could kill us!"
"Ron!" Harry hissed.
"Don't," she gulped. "He's right...I can't keep losing my head in crises."
They walked into a new room. Golden light bathed the room from lit lamps in the four corners, and the massive stone walls, floor and vaulted ceiling were completely untouched by the last chamber's humidity. They could breathe easier and the only thing filling the air now were strange metallic bodied birds, glinting in the lamplight. But they weren't birds. What was the nature of the challenge here? A stack of broomsticks laying neglected and Hermione's heart sank to her stomach once more.
"It's locked!" Ron said.
"Oh," Hermione gave a broken laugh. "Alohamora?" Please work!
She tried to open the door and nothing happened.
"Did you not think I tried that first?" Ron glowered.
"Oh..heh...oops..." she gulped shrinking under his glare.
"Those are keys," Harry said. "We'll have to catch the right one."
Ron examined the lock tapping the silver lock and pursing his lips. "We're looking for an old silver key, large and-"
"Found it!" Harry pointed.
In the fluttering of hundreds of keys, a glimpse of silver shone with brilliant blue wings among the bronze and gold white-winged keys of an assortment of sizes. How could they have missed...
"Thank god you're a seeker," Hermione breathed. "We'll just have to distract the other keys while you get it...knowing Flitwick, the other keys will probably attack you if you get to close."
Ron showed surprising competence once more. After tonight she was going to give him more time, more patience. He was so far from the vain idiot she thought she met back on the train. And though Hermione had grown fond of Ron, she never truly saw him as smart or capable. But he devised a plan to make the flock separate. He gave Hermione (thankfully) the lower third, Ron took the upper, and with the two of them playing distractions Harry was to get the key safely.
Though even the best of plans go awry...
"Harry!" Ron gasped as his flock dove for Harry when he got too close to grabbing the blue-winged key.
They clustered around him, their razor like wings cutting his flesh, his screams echoed off the walls and she could barley see him through the dense cloud of metal and wings. Hermione closed her eyes and grabbed her wand, nearly losing control of the broomstick under her. Shit! "Immobilis!" she shrieked pointing above her.
Five or six keys dropped from the cloud, hitting the ground with a metallic clang. She paused her broom in the air and kept casting the immobilization charm hitting them in groups of five or six. She didn't know how many keys she immobilized, but soon, Harry wasn't the only threat, and Ron was no longer a threat. A small fraction of the keys crowding Harry and over half came of Ron's descended upon her like a dark cloud.
It all happened so fast. She lost sight of the boys as they swarmed her, what looked like soft feathers were razor sharp, she could barely keep her eyes open as they cut away at her flesh and she shrieked in agony. She tried to move her wand, but the swarm knocked her about and it clattered to the floor, far, far below her. Was this how she died?
"Immobilis!" Ron's voice shouted somewhere in the distance. "Do you have it yet?!"
"Almost!" Harry called.
"F-focus on Harry!" she cried, knowing she didn't sound like she meant it. "He needs to get the key!"
A few more shouts of "immoblis" and Hermione's swarm moved to Ron.
"Ron!" she shrieked.
She moved downward to fetch her wand when suddenly the swarms fell to the ground, like metallic hail clattering to the ground. She looked up and saw Harry covered in cuts holding the prize key. He did it! He got the key!
"I really hope there isn't a scaling in difficulty," Hermione gasped for air as the two boys joined her on the ground.
"What could possibly be worse than a great three-headed dog, murder plant and attacking keys?" Ron asked as Harry unlocked the door.
"Chess!" Ron clapped observing the checkered board and giant stone pieces set up on the board. "This is perfect!"
"Unless we take the place of pieces that have to be sacrificed," Hermione breathed. "But I'm pants at chess, so I trust you."
"Me too," Harry nodded. "We'll follow your every order."
Ron tapped his chin and his eyes scanned the board as he muttered to himself. He fell silent, his face grim and he seemed to go through a thousand scenarios in only a few minutes.
"Okay," Ron snapped his fingers. "I got it!"
Ron assigned each of them pieces and they waited for the game to begin. White went first, and Ron called upon a black pawn that dragged the white piece off the board, both massive stone pieces wrestling. Losing to one of these pieces could mean grave injury and even death. Hermione wondered how many times she was certain death would come for them this past year, or even this past night. She would have to swallow that fear and trust Ron...Eleven years wasn't nearly long enough, but she took a deep breath. If Ron gave the order, she would sacrifice herself for the win. They needed Ron's expertise, and it had to be Harry if it were Voldemort, but Hermione decided she was expendable. Better her than them...Who would miss her?
The game progressed, more pieces dragging others off the board. Ron surveyed the board for a cool minute between each order. For a moment, Hermione that they had it. They had claimed far more white pieces than the white team had of theirs, but then, the White Queen took to the board, and she was unstoppable. Every move Ron ordered he looked less and less sure of himself. Both Harry and Hermione developed trembles in their steps as Ron sent them out to claim pieces.
You're expendable, be okay with this... she told herself as she claimed a white bishop.
She turned back to Ron, who's face paled, his ruddy lips pressed into a hard line as he drew in a long deep breath. "Harry," he said, his voice somehow both strong and trembling. "I'm going to move to be claimed by the queen. That'll get her out of the way so you can claim the king."
"Ron, no!" both Harry and Hermione cried.
"I have to. This is chess, sacrifices must be made."
"I-I'll do it!" Hermione cried. "I'm in line to the position you're going! You're needed, don't do this!"
"You're needed too, Hermione," Ron fear and compassion in his glistening eyes. "And I will put the king in check. The queen won't have any interest in you if you take that position. We have to end this game now. We don't know how far Snape will have gotten. This-" he breathed and the tremble returned. "Needs to happen."
"But-" Hermione argued and Ron had taken his place.
The white queen marched up to Ron with malice carved in her stone face. She grabbed Ron, yanking him off his horse with an excessive amount of force and Hermione was certain she heard a sickening snap as Ron cried out in pain before being tossed from the board like a ragdoll.
"Ron!" they both cried.
Harry turned his gaze from Ron to the king. He marched up to it, and she could feel the fire coming off him. Ron's sacrifice wouldn't be in vain...Hermione turned her eyes to Ron, he was down, but still breathing, wheezing unsteady breaths, but still breathing. Please don't die...
"Checkmate!" Harry shouted, enraged.
The game was finally over and Hermione rushed over to Ron.
"Hermione!" Harry grabbed her arm. "We have to go! You heard Ron...this can't be in vain..."
Hermione turned to face him, tears sprang to his eyes.
"He's alive," Hermione waving her wand and muttering a couple of spells. One to stay the bleeding, and the other to patch his ribs, good enough until Madam Pomfrey could tend to him. "Thank you, Ron," she whispered. "Let's go!"
The next room was a familiar challenge. Hermione never thought in a million years she would see that towering, lumpy goliath of a mountain troll again. She steadied her breath and grabbed her wand, but he didn't rampage, he didn't even acknowledge them.
"I think he's been charmed..." Hermione whispered. "But I'm not sure..."
"Whatever it is," Harry whispered. "We should go before it's totally awake."
They moved on to the next room and both nearly leapt as purple flames shot from the ground reaching the ceiling barring the way back. Opposite them was a black fire barring the way forward. Thirteen bottles of different sized lined a shelf along the wall to their side, and Hermione realized with a pang that this was her father's challenge. When did he go from trusted ally and friend to Dumbledore to Death Eater? Did he know when he made this challenge that he'd be betraying everyone he knew? Or was it sometime after?
Hermione took a slip of paper with trembling hands and tried not to cry as she combed over the familiar hand writing. What she'd give to go back, to relive their good moments...she knew their days were numbered, if she had known earlier, if she had been less resistant with him...could she have changed his mind? Could she change his mind now? Or was he too far gone?
You don't have time for this! she chastised herself and read through the puzzle. She could mourn the loss of what she had with her father if she survived. They had to stop Voldemort.
"The small one," Hermione said in a broken voice to a rather confused looking Harry.
"I'm sorry?" Harry asked and Hermione realised she hadn't explained a thing, nor allowed him to read the puzzle.
"This bottle," she handed it to him. "Will allow you to go through the black flames to the next, and hopefully final challenge...but there's only enough of one of us to go through..."
"Is there one to let you go back?" Harry asked.
"This one," she said pointing. "Back at the chess game I thought I was fine stopping...but seeing his task, reading his hand writing...Harry, what if I can change his mind?"
"You should go back, Hermione..." Harry said.
"But..."
"No, Hermione, listen to me," he held her shoulders. "We don't have time, we need to act now. And I need Dumbledore. Go get Ron, fly to the owlery and get Dumbledore!"
"But...he's..." she tried to find the words.
"He's not going to change his mind. We both know that...and if I send you in...can you really do what's necessary?"
"What's necessary?!" Hermione cried, tears springing to her eyes. "There has to be another way..."
"And if there isn't?" his stare seemed to burn through her soul.
Hermione bit her lip, she wanted to drop, to cry herself to sleep and never wake. There was no right answer here. What was worse was that she knew Harry was right. Ron needed medical care, and Harry needed Dumbledore if it was Voldemort there. She nodded before throwing her arms around him. "If it is him, bring him back alive...you're a good person, Harry. Killing anyone would destroy you...and I-I need him to be okay...it's stupid, I know..."
"If I'd ever known my dad," Harry breathed. "But I found out he were working for Voldemort...I think I would be just like you. I think Ron would too. It's not stupid. It's human."
Hermione bit her lip harder and nodded not trusting her voice not to crack, but she did have one more peice to say. "You're a great wizard, you're going to go on to do great things. The Dark-Voldemort will have nothing on you. I'll go now. You've got this!"
Hermione and Harry downed their perspective potions and Hermione turned back with a heavy heart hoping that she was right about Voldemort being unable to touch him. Time was of the essence.
Ron was by no means heavy, but Hermione had trouble moving him, nearly dragging him over her shoulders, his feet trailed behind them and Hermione hoped she wasn't doing more damage to him. The letter was on the way, all she had to do now was get Ron to the hospital wing, which was surprisingly more difficult, even with the adrenaline driving her to move forward. The had finally made their way down to the entrance hall, Hermione trying to remain steady.
Shit! Around the corner she saw two tall men speaking in hushed tones. One was a man with a long beard and clad in purple...Dumbledore! He'd come after all! And very quickly. Did he know before?
"So many letters," Dumbledore sighed. "Yours, Minerva's and now Hermione's. You were right to summon me back when you did. And don't punish yourself, you were also right to wait for me. I must go, time is of the essence. Isn't that right, Hermione?"
He turned, peering at them over his half-moon, his blue eyes twinkling in the light knowingly, but an urgency could be found in his in his posture. The second man came from the shadows, staring at her rather stunned.
"Hermione..."
Hermione collapsed, unsure if it was exhaustion or relief that caused it. But she crumpled under Ron's weight and tears sprang to her eyes as a familiar form knelt beside her and placed his hand on her head.
"D-Dad?" she whimpered.
"I'm more than capable of handling things myself, Severus," Dumbledore said. "I trust you can see these two to the hospital wing?"
Before Dumbledore was even finished speaking her father had conjured a stretcher, placed Ron on it and helped Hermione to her feet. "Time. Go."
Dumbledore flew off like a shot, his speed surprising for such an old man, leaving nothing but a swishing of purple robes behind him.
"Oh, Hermione," her father said in a soft voice taking her face in his hands. "Thank god, you're okay. My poor baby girl, if I thought..." he didn't finish his sentence, instead he drew her into a hug, patiently running on hand over the top of her head as she sobbed uncontrollably into his abdomen.
He was innocent! He didn't betray them all! Hermione had never been so happy to be wrong. She thought she'd had a handle on it until morning, but now seeing him, hearing his voice...she thought she had no life to go back to, no one to miss her...but now she was held, safe, warm, cared for...that simple reminder mixed with the relief sent her to pieces.
"Let's get you two looked after," he said lifting her. "Then I imagine I owe you some answers..."
Hermione sniffed and nodded, not trusting that she'd be able to keep it together if she tried to speak again. They made continued their way down to the hospital wing, and the mixture of relief and exhaustion she'd felt since coming upon Dumbledore and her father in the entrance hall won over the adreneline that pushed her through and she fell asleep.
"I cannot get Snape calling you 'his poor baby girl' out of my head!" Ron chuckled. "It's so out of character I get chills thinking of it!"
"Jerk!" Hermione rolled her eyes and threw a pillow at Ron. "I thought you were unconscious!"
"Come on, Hermione!" Ron whined. "I'm injured!"
"You're being released too!" she stuck her tongue out at him.
Ron stuck his tongue out at her as well and the two broke into a short lived laughter.
"I wish he was being released too," Ron said looking in the direction of Harry's bed.
"Me too," Hermione nodded.
Pomfrey held both Hermione and Ron for two nights, and they watched Dumbledore put Harry in a bed that first night covered in cuts and abrasions before fetching Pomfrey. However, unlike Hermione and Ron, Harry didn't regain consciousness. Two nights and nothing...Pomfrey promised he'd be fine, but Hermione and Ron had difficulty trusting her when Harry was so, so fragile in that bed, even surrounded by the tokens of well-wishers. She just wanted him to wake.
I should have somehow been there to help...I don't know how...
"You two look grim for two first years about to re-earn their freedom," Pomfrey commented. "He will wake. Your little friend is in the best care."
Hermione imagined how much Harry would loathe to have been referred to as their 'little friend', Ron must have been imagining the same thing as a weak smirk found his lips.
Pomfrey examined both of them, Hermione still didn't understand why she was kept as long as she was, Ron had taken much more serious injuries, and it was curious the two had the same sentence...sentence, stay might have been a better word? Though Hermione knew why some people called Pomfrey 'the Warden'...How could Hermione have never noticed how overbearing that woman was? Well, she supposed she had one theory.
"You are both cleared for release," she told them. "Don't go doing something stupid again!"
"Madam, yes, Madam!" Ron and Hermione sang.
Ron and Hermione changed into their robes and left the hospital wing determined to believe everything would be fine.
"I'm so sorry! I didn't...I...You were..." Hermione sobbed collapsing along a wall before burying her face in her knees.
"Hermione, love," Severus sat down next to her placing his hand on the top of her head. "It's all over now, it'll be alright..." he didn't exactly believe the words himself, Voldemort returned...as a fraction of himself leeching off the life force of others to be sure, but he was making moves again. However, her current ordeal was over, at least for now.
Before he could think of anything else to say, she spoke between sobs. She told him what he could only imagine was everything. She thought he'd erased her memory because she found out about something he didn't want her too, that was right, but after the incident with Potter's broomstick, and her scanning the crowd to find him moving his lips, she thought he was trying to kill him...and she was the one to set the fire...it was only a coincidence that she stopped the right party, Quirrell. That she was particularly torn up about. She outlined spying on him in the forest and a million other circumstances over the year. He had to admit, he would have assumed his guilt as well.
"I thought you were trying to get the stone for...how could I ever have thought that for a moment?"
"I'm not sure where to start..." he breathed. "Perhaps by first admitting I'm the one that should be apologizing."
Hermione stared at him with surprise. She sat next to the wall on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest and digging her nails into her hands again. Perhaps for the first time their nerves were equally wrecked. He didn't expect her to trust him again, but if he told her...he didn't know, but he did owe her that much.
Hermione shook her head "But I thought you..."
"Shh," he moved her hair from her face before wiping her eyes. "I know. I know..." he took a deep breath. "Hermione, you never would have thought that if I hadn't placed a memory charm on you. I truly thought I was doing what was best for you...I never imagined the damage it would do...thinking you were raised by a...and having to chose between what you know is right and your family. It's not a position I envy, and one I am truly sorry I put you in such a position. And you will never be put in that position again."
Hermione simply nodded, perhaps not trusting her own voice. She looked at him with a mixture of curiosity, sadness and regret; tears pooled in her large brown eyes, caught in her eyelashes and on her fell down cheeks. That haunted look...she was far too young to know the kind of regret that warranted. Yet, she spent nearly a whole year try to cover for him, to protect her friends...just wondering who she should betray if she had to chose. The poor girl...
"I'll start with Hallowe'en, I suppose..." he explained going after Quirrell, the repeated threats to her from that night forward, her insistence that she prevent Quirrell and his panicked decision to modify her memory, trying to use a countercurse on Potter's broom, adding that was why he refereed the other match, noting that she probably found that suspicious at the time and the conversation in the forest.
"After chasing Quirrell away from the corridor that afternoon I immediately wrote the headmaster to summon him back, you three knowing made the matter much more urgent. I was to meet him in the entrance hall as soon as he returned," he cupped her tiny face in his hands. "Had I any idea you were going to go down that night, I would have come for you. If anything happened to you, well, I don't know what I'd do."
"Sleep at night?" she offered with a squeak.
"I doubt it," he sighed throwing an arm around her shoulders."Not with half the students enrolled in your house, anyway."
Hermione gave a weak laugh. When was the last time he'd heard that child laugh? Sure, it was a feeble attempt to end a hard conversation with no real ending on either of their parts, but it was something. Baby steps, she could bounce back from this. Resilient was never a word he'd have thought to use to describe Hermione, but he could see it now. Things would never be the same, but she had a chance of reaching something close to how she was before.
"You know," he ventured acknowledging one last thing he meant to get to. "I don't blame you. I understand how it looked to you and why I would have been the last person you wanted to turn to. However, promise me that you'll come to me if you ever stumble across a plot like this again. I don't want you endangering yourself."
"Is school looking to guard another extremely dangerous artifact?"
"Promise me, Hermione," he said.
"I know this doesn't come easy for you, Dad," Hermione's voice steadied and her posture relaxed. "But trust me, if I never get involved in something like this again it'll be too soon."
"A sentiment I share whole-heartedly, I assure you," he sighed. "But that isn't what I asked, now is it?"
"I..." she sighed. "I'm sorry, Dad, honest I am, but..." she turned her eyes to the ground and her muscles tensed once more. "You messed with my memory. I know why you did it, and I do believe you'd take it back if you could...but, I think it'll be a while before I can make a promise like that..."
Given everything, that's surprisingly level headed for a child, he thought and took her hands before she could continue mutilating them absent-mindedly and spoke. "Yes, I imagine we do have to re-build trust."
A silence passed between them, Hermione staring blankly at the ground, deep in thought.
"This is a bit off topic," Hermione ventured, but he was as relieved as she was. "But I've been meaning to ask all year..."
"You've been meaning to ask?" he repeated after a silence.
"Before you met Harry," she breathed. "You decided you couldn't stand him. Why?"
"It's quite a long story, Hermione," he said. "You'll have to forgive that there are details that I both don't wish to revisit, nor do I think you're old enough to handle. I imagine you put together a while ago that I had you working on James Potter's disciplinary cases so you could have an idea of his character before his son attended school. The ones I had you copy were the tamer of his lot's deeds. There was an entire year left out for that reason. I realize now that was the wrong way to go about it, but the truth is James Potter destroyed my life, and I wasn't about to let his son do the same to you."
To his surprise she nodded. "I understand, but (Should have seen this coming!) Harry's nothing like his father. I know he's said somethings that weren't very nice to you, but from his point of view, he felt like he was being attacked and had no clue why. And I'm certain if you gave him a chance, you'd find he's incapable of even the 'tamer' things his father did. And with the wreck that I am, you should already know we're not always carbon copies of our parents, Dad."
"You're not a wreck, Hermione, and the last thing I want you to be is an exact copy," he sighed and lumped form in his throat under her imploring stare. "If you're vouching for the boy, I'll give him and his little sidekick a chance."
I don't like it, but I would have agreed to anything you asked after this year...
Weeks went by and Harry had returned from the hospital awake and in higher spirits than either Hermione or Ron had been upon their release. Initially at least. That changed when Harry told them about his encounter with Quirrell, Voldemort attached to the back of his head and how Harry's touch put him in agony. Harry described the scene in detached vivid detail. It was self-defence, and almost accidental, but that haunted look...she knew he couldn't linger on it. Hermione would have gone through the whole year of suspecting the man who raised her five times over before living through what Harry did.
"I swear," Harry said. "I can't believe you were right all along. I should have put it together long before then!"
"He had us all fooled," Hermione shrugged. But I should have known better... "Has the stone really been destroyed?"
"Yeah," Harry nodded. "Dumbledore says Nicholas Flammel and his wife wanted it that way, and that they were tired of being alive..said 'death is just one more part of life to the organized mind', erm, or something like that."
"That's bloody mental!" Ron gasped. "How can they-?"
"Everyone they knew and loved died a very long time ago," Hermione ventured. "I can't imagine it'd have been easy."
"Dumbledore made it sound a little less tragic," Harry shifted in his chair. "Oh, and I found out why your dad hates me so much."
"Yeah," Hermione sighed. "My dad told me. He didn't give the details, but I got the broad strokes."
"Do I get to hear either rendition of the story?" Ron pouted after a silence.
"Hell no," Hermione shook her head. "At least not from me."
"Erm," Harry looked down at his breakfast. "I brought it up because I thought Hermione might want to know, but if she already knows, and isn't willing to share...I don't reckon I should either."
"Thank you," Hermione bowed her head.
"Grades are posted today," Ron mumbled picking at his plate. "I think I did well, but my brothers are so good at this stuff, I don't know...I feel like rubbish next to them."
"You're not rubbish, Ron," Hermione groaned. "An insufferable prat, sure, but not rub-wait! grades are out today?! Oh, dear god! I think I'm going to be sick!"
"You'll both be fine," Harry sighed before turning to Hermione. "What reason have you to be even slightly nervous?"
"Oh, god..." Hermione pushed away her toast and burying her head on the table. "I know I choked on the practicals! Kill me, Ron, do it now before the whole school sees I'm a bloody failure!"
"Are you completely mental?" Ron asked. "I'd bet any money you're top of our class. Come off it!"
Ron was right. Hermione had achieved all Outstanding's and a single Exceeds Expectations in Potions, which Ron teased her about, forgetting about the assortment of Acceptables under his own name. Despite the single E, Hermione had been, as Ron predicted, top of her year. Despite the hell of a year, it still filled her with pride. All her hard work paid off! Though the bitter voices grumbling about her being a teacher's daughter undercut it...If she could copy this performance in Japan then she could be sure it was completely her victory.
"Don't listen to those jerks," Fred said finding them in a crowd.
"Yeah," George appeared on her other side. "You were top witch and you stopped You-Know-Who from getting that stone!"
"Harry stopped the Dark Lord from getting the stone," Hermione sighed. "Ron got us passed the chess set. Listen to the rumours, I was incidental."
"I-I only got there by luck," Harry ran a nervous hand through his hair. "Luck and you two."
"Come off it, you two!" Ron groaned. "Are you two fishing for compliments or did the Dursleys and Snape warp you so badly?"
"Stop comparing him to them!" Hermione hissed.
Fred slipped an arm around Ron. "You three are incredible! The whole school is abuzz about it!"
"Dumbledore's going to have to acknowledge you in the year-end feast tonight!" George laughed.
The green and silver decorations in the hall dulled the bright mood of the Weasleys, Harry and Neville. Hermione wished she cared, maybe it was because her father was the head of another house? Maybe it was because she thought house divisions were stupid in the first place? Years of seeing hostilities between houses from the outside? She wondered if Mahoukatoro would place her in a house...
Dumbledore gave his year end speech, congratulated Slytherin to luke warm applause and then took the entire Great Hall by surprise by saying he wanted to give out some last minute points to four exemplary students.
"I have been told," he chuckled peering at her father over his glasses. "That rewarding students for risking their lives was a terrible idea, so with that concerned party in mind, I must warn you not to recklessly endanger your lives. That will not earn you anything but trouble. But that is not what these students did. These students did what they did in the interest of others, not themselves. They risked their lives for the greater good and I believe they should be recognized for it.
"Oh, but before I do so, for the sake of that concerned party-" he glanced at her father again "-Should anyone believe the safety of themselves or others is at risk, they should first report to any one of us. Forgive us, but I must repeat the adage you've all heard from your parents, find an adult when things are serious. Now for the fun part!..."
Dumbledore awarded Ron fifty points for beating McGonagall's chess set, which Percy, Fred and George all beamed with pride to the applause with loud "That's my youngest brother!" The tips of Ron's ears turned pink and she expected him to sink under the praise, but despite the furious blushing, he grinned and thanked everyone praising him. He had his moment in the sun, and Hermione finally understood why he saw what he saw in the mirror.
Hermione was the next to be mentioned and she felt a thousand eyes on her, her stomach churned and her blood froze in her veins. She took in deep breaths, clasped her hands and sank her nails into the gaps between her fingers trying to stay the pounding of her heart. She nearly died, why did those damn eyes bother her so much? She didn't even hear what Dumbledore was saying. Was that applause sincere? Sarcastic? Pity? How could she know? Why did she care? She prayed he would move on to Harry. How could Ron stand this? Hermione lowered her head to the table and shut her eyes.
"And to Harry Potter," Dumbledore said after what seemed to be forever. He rewarded Harry one-hundred points for his bravery in the face of insurmountable odds, selflessness and determination. Nearly die at the hands of the man who murdered your parents and get points for your school house. Hermione raised her head now that it was safe and saw that Harry wasn't as bitter at the idea as she was. Harry was smiling, taking in the applause and congratulations from those around him. He looked at Hermione and she smiled at him as she joined the applause. For once Harry seemed completely at ease with himself and the attention. She hoped that ease would stay. If anyone deserved to learn to like themselves, it was Harry.
"And I did believe I mentioned four students," Dumbledore said lifting his hands to quieten the crowd. "I would finally like to reward ten points to Neville Longbottom..." For trying to stop them, but Hermione understood why, to reinforce Neville standing up for himself, even if it's his friends.
But what the hell was Dumbledore thinking? Neville was going to react to the spotlight just like she did. Neville was fragile he couldn't...
Neville was pink-faced and a bit embarrassed, but he beamed as other Gryffindors pat him on the back and congratulated him. They even seemed sincere! Hermione took his hands and smiled at him congratulating him before apologizing for the perhaps fiftieth time since that night. Neville's face became more pink, she let go of his hands and clapped. If other's weren't sincere she would be, but she was happy that the applause didn't seem insincere.
Gryffindor won the cup with the new additions and the Hall erupted with applause and cheering, thrilled to finally have another house win. If Hermione failed to be happy about that, she would damn well be happy for her friends! Which, she was. They seemed so happy, at ease, she watched Harry and Ron joke around with the twins. Neville was finally being spoken to like a humanbeing by his classmates. It was beautiful to see him sitting up right and finishing his sentences when speaking to others. Was it dumb that she was proud of her friend? She was proud of all of them. Hermione could have watched the moment forever but was taken aback by Ron.
"You're awful quiet," he said. "Still thinking about that E?"
They all burst into laughter and Hermione didn't know whether it was with or at her. She let out a fake nervous laugh, trying to look unbothered. "It will haunt me eternally!" she said in a dramatic and sarcastic voice.
They all laughed and this time she found warmth behind their eyes and in their smiles. A whole damn year to realise it, but she knew then that they actually liked her. Not pitied, not tolerated, but liked. A thought she'd previously considered dumb whenever it crossed her mind.
"I never did ask," Harry said. "What are you doing this summer?"
The three of them were gathered at the bridge before they had to load into the carriages. Students cheered and laughed in droves, all promising to write, some hugging, older couples embracing and kissing. It was bittersweet, they all would be free for two whole months, but most would only communicate with their friends via letter. The June sun bathed the bridge and both Harry and Ron seemed oddly serene basking in the golden glow.
"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Can't be spending all summer in Gyffindor Tower as well."
"Far from it!" Hermione beamed, she hadn't told a soul. "I'm going to Japan! Japan!"
"Wow," Ron scoffed. "Snape must feel awful about the year to take you to meet your boyfriend."
"First of all," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Hiro is not my boyfriend. And second is my dad's not taking me. I'm going on my own! I've never been anywhere on my own before. I'm spending July at the Japanese Wizarding School. Their summer break is only August in Japan."
"More school?!" Ron gasped. "That's mental! Haven't you worked hard enough?"
"I don't reckon you mind that, eh?" Harry asked with a knowing smile.
"Not at all!" she smiled. "I've never seen anything beyond these walls, unless you count that one afternoon to in Diagon Alley. Nothing can ruin this!"
"Well," Ron chuckled. "If you're not too busy you should write us. Fred and George told me to tell you they felt neglected, you should write them too!"
"I'll write them if I have time," she shrugged. "But I'll make time for you!"
"Hermione..." Ron gulped.
"Okay, that was stupid," she shrank. "I'll write all three of you, I just...I know that you feel...erm...next to your brothers...erm...Shit!"
"I think Hermione was trying to say she values you beyond your connection to your family," Harry laughed. "Promise you'll work on your people skills?"
"I'm going to have to in Japan!" she rolled her eyes. "I'll write you too, Harry. Try not to be too miserable at the Dursleys?"
"I've already asked Mum to invite him over for the summer!" Ron beamed. "I can't imagine her saying no!"
"That's brilliant!"she said. "Write me about whatever fabulous misadventure you idiots find yourselves in over the summer?"
"Of course," Harry said. "I can't wait till next year though. Once you come back from Japan alive you might be allowed to take a step or two outside!"
"One can dream, Harry."