November was drawing near an end and Hermione still sported a tail and ears, but the fur and tabby markings were gone and she could handle cat-brain impulses better. Her father, who had decided after much pleading on her part not to transfer her to Saint-Mungo's, had still taken to visiting her daily. She assumed he'd want space after she and Harry ventured out that night, but he instead seemed more keen in keeping tabs on her. After the incident with Harry's eye, Pomfrey had told her she was only allowed two visitors at a time. Luna sat with her daily while Harry (who had suffered a week's worth of detentions courtesy of her father), Ron and O'Malley dropped in only every so often. She got a lot more school work done, but she found her hit a wall on her research. She couldn't wait till she got out and could be more thorough.
Hermione reread the letter once again from Sato. Was she real? Was this a cruel prank? She didn't know. All she knew was that if Sato really was her m-the woman who gave birth to her, she abandoned her. Hermione hated herself for thinking that, but she couldn't help it. Sato, if she were even real, was ill. It wasn't entirely her fault, Hermione kept telling herself, but she was still so...what? Disappointed? Angry? Hurt? Yes, she was all of those things. Maybe she had no right to be so, but she was. Did that make her a bad person?
She didn't even know if that woman was real, but it consumed her. She kept trying to distract herself with homework, writing letters to her friends, and when all else failed she'd take a sleeping potion and enjoy being unconscious for a few hours. Or attempt to anyway...nightmares plagued her still.
I'm not about to ask the only person who could tell me either... Hermione wouldn't be surprised if Sato and her father had the relationship described in the letter. Anytime someone asked about Hermione's mother, her father got particularly nasty. He was happy to pretend that she didn't exist. That kind of hurt isn't easily forgiven, and Hermione knew her father was not the type to forgive and forget. The thought often crossed her mind that her father adopted her-though she'd never ask-but if that were true, why would he be so upset whenever someone asked why a mother wasn't in the picture. There had to be something personal right? And the letter would make sense...but something felt so wrong about it.
Hermione heard footsteps and stashed her letter in her copy of 1000 Magical Herbs an Fungi before pouring over the first page she flipped to. She looked up when her father approached and casually set the book on top of the now considerably smaller pile that her research into the creature went nowhere.
"How are we feeling?"he asked sitting next to her.
"Second week of December I should be good to go," Hermione sighed. "To think I was originally given two weeks..."
"You've proved a difficult patient," he sighed placing a hand on her head. "I can't believe you talked me out of transferring you."
"Don't know how I managed it either," she shrugged with a smile. "So, you're aware of how dreadfully boring my life's been. How about yours?"
Her father stared at her for a moment, his face once more inscrutable. Had Hermione inadvertently said or done something?Why was he looking at her like that? Hermione's stomach churned and she dug her nails-which were now just nails-into the back of her hands. Did he find out about her investigation? Perhaps about her half-written article for the Herald? Or...the letter?
"It's come to my attention," his expression softened and he absently pet her head. "That stress makes you revert, so I've been putting it off. Though now that you're starting to make improvements, I have to ask, love: What aren't you telling me?"
Do you want a list? Hermione bit her lip and stared at her clasped hands. She could make up a crush, that would make things awkward and maybe they'd leave it. If she named a boy in Japan, he couldn't antagonize the object of her made up affections. And with Hiro, it wasn't totally a lie. She could say the transfiguration messed with her cycle...it wouldn't even be a lie either. Though she wasn't confident in his shying away from that conversation as she was with other males in her life. Or she could say she had a suspicion she would be cursed again once she got out. That also wasn't untrue...the longer you take...
"I'm going to hazard a guess," he said in a low soft voice. "And you can nod or shake your head if you're not ready to speak. Did your mother write you?"
Hermione's stomach gave another churn and her heart pounded in her ears. A buzzing filled her head as she tried to negotiate the impulse to dive under the bed and hiss at any approaching human and the impulse to bury everything she felt down as far as she could and nonchalantly profess her apathy. She attempted to shrug and speak, but it came out sounding more bitter and icy than she thought her altered voice capable.
"If you can call her that, yes!" she snapped. "So, it's all true then?"
Her father's black eyes now matched hers in size as he regarded her with what seemed to be legitimate surprise. Hermione had often seen him so angry he was at a loss for words, or regarding her in quiet fear after she'd weaseled her way out of a perceived threat, but it wasn't often-if at all-Hermione saw him at a complete loss for words because of something she said before. The closest she'd seen to that was when she confronted him about modifying her memory. He didn't even nod.
Hermione tried to stay the flow of stupid questions building inside her mind, but she couldn't prevent them from pouring out her mouth as if the dam she built over twelve years had finally burst. "If this is true, what the hell is with all those rumours? Did she signal that she gave a damn at all? Was she happy to leave?"
"Hermione," he managed, though he still looked horrified.
"You keep saying shit about obsessive behaviour, do I get that from her? Is that why she's an alcoholic? Why couldn't she be bothered before now? Was I even a month old before she up and disapparated back to fucking New York?"
"Hermione," he spoke more firmly this time.
The room spun around her and her vision blurred. She wasn't sure if she felt anger, sadness, fear or shame that she couldn't stop herself.
"Did she really feel guilty or did she just not want me?" she felt tears spring to her eyes. "And if this is true why haven't you-" Hermione couldn't finish the sentence. Distressed mews returned before she grabbed a bowl by her bedside and started retching.
Shame won out when she heard Pomfrey whispering from somewhere near the door. "This is a bad time, boys."
"Shit!" she and her father both spat.
"I was going to suggest we have this conversation in private," he said holding her hair back and for once failing to chastise her for her language. "Which I am still willing to do, but I think, perhaps, you need rest. I'm happy to answer any questions you have tomorrow, love."
He stayed with her till her sleeping potion kicked in, and the troubled expression on his face never left.
"Boys," Severus called as he caught up to Potter and Weasley.
Weasley looked over at Potter with a nervous twist to his mouth while Potter looked up at him after his eyes darted around the corridor, perhaps hoping that he was calling for another pair of boys.
"We didn't mean-" Potter started.
"I'm quite aware of your little knack for showing up precisely where you are neither needed nor wanted, Potter," Severus seethed. "It would seem fortune favours neither of us." He leaned in close to the boys and lowered his voice. "What did you hear?"
Weasley gulped, his ears turning a red that rivaled that of his hair.
Potter took in a deep breath, but maintained eye contact. "Just that you were talking about her mother, sir. We won't mention it to her-or anyone."
"Where in the conversation did you walk in?" he asked again.
"Something-erm-disapparating to New York and feeling-erm-guilty," Potter admitted to Weasley's apparent horror.
Do they know I altered Hermione's memories last year? Is that what they think I'm about to do? Potter was telling the truth, it seemed the boys only caught the tail end of the conversation. However, if one good thing came from Hermione's break down, it was that she was too distracted listen for footsteps and that meant Pomfrey and the boys heard explicit reference to Hermione's "mother" being a witch.
He was prepared to go over details with her. To explain that in his uncertainty that her mother would go after them after she left, he lied to Saint-Mungo's and said he found her. That was since corrected, but it covered a base there. He still suspected though that the foundling rumours were a very unfortunate coincidence. He expected her curiosity to be toward details about her origins...he had not once expected that she would ask about abandonment...how could he not know that she'd think about it?
He was raised by a woman with severe abandonment issues, the potential should have been at the front of his mind. They weren't even related by blood, how could she have inherited his mother's abandonment issues when she never even met the blasted woman? No, abandonment issues were not solely the property of Eileen Pr-Snape. It could have been in Hermione's wiring all along. Even if without abandonment issues, he expected that most children would think that way. He just wished she-and everyone else for that matter- could have taken for granted that he was her biological father, but he knew for years now that Hermione suspected she might have been adopted or otherwise found...But Hermione never once asked about her lack of a mother or the differences in our appearance...No, you stupid piece of shit! You know the only reason she didn't ask is because she was afraid of your reception!
Potter and Weasley exchanged a nervous glance still frozen in place.
"I expect you to keep your word," he said finally. "You boys are free to go."
He hadn't seen the two move so fast since they were permitted to go after the confrontation on Hallowe'en.
Safety Tips While the Attacker is on the Loose
The writing was literally on the wall this past Hallowe'en when we found the message in blood threatening the 'enemies of the heir'. Whether or not there truly is a Chamber of Secrets, there is an attacker roaming the corridors. The first victim was the caretaker, Argus Filch's, cat Mrs Norris. However, it was the second victim, Colin Creevy, 11, that confirmed theories that who or whatever is responsible for the attacks is willing to target students. At this time we believe that muggleborns are the target, as Salazar Slytherin's archaic prejudice survives in this school, and he has become a beacon to those clinging to it.
We have yet to confirm any theories as to what the creature maybe or how it is going around the school. We suspect its quiet and able to get around unseen. We advise students and faculty alike to remain vigilante when wandering the cooridors. There seems to be no preference in time. Mrs Norris was petrified late evening, and an examination of Creevy, according to Madam Poppy Pomfrey, 57, suggests that he was attacked in the afternoon despite being found late in the night. This means the creature, attacker or otherwise has no issue attacking in broad daylight when witnesses could easily stumble upon them. Even more alarming, it can attack and escape without a trace. A staff examination of the camera found with Creevy is underway, and no comment has been made by the team or individual responsible for the investigation.
Considering that any members of this paper are minors, we have made the decision not to not investigate the scenes in the interest of our reporters' safety, so it is hard to test our theories as to how its getting around. One theory that holds ground on paper, is that they are using the pipes to get around the school unnoticed.
However the attacker moves, they are fast, efficient and leave no trace outside of their victims. Do not let your guard down!
Tips:
1. Travel in Groups.
Something every girl will have heard before she set foot here, is advice best followed now by everyone. There is safety in numbers, the attacker may be so bold as to attack during the day, but they may be deterred by a number too big for them to handle. They won't want to leave witnesses. Travel to meals, classes and the library in groups. If you can't manage a group, a pair works. During classes if you need to excuse yourself to the bathroom be sure to have a partner.
2. Avoid and Speak Out About Things Out of the Ordinary
Curiosity killed the cat is an exhausted phrase for a reason. This was a hard one for many of our reporters to admit to, but safety does have to come first. If you see something unusual and suspect its involvement in the attacks, tell someone. Rumors travel faster than the speed of light, if you have information (see a something out of place, have a point of commonality between the scenes) use the rumor mill for good. The more information we all have the more we can keep safe. We only ask that names be omitted unless you are operating with 100% certainty. Though the spread of information can save lives, remember that the spread of misinformation can not only ruin lives, but in times like these, cost them.
3. Defensive Spells
We encourage everyone to learn and practice defensive spells. Given the circumstances, it is best to use spells that cause little-to-no damage, lest you hit a fellow student in your attempts to defend yourselves. It's hard not to be jumpy when you don't feel safe. Which is why you should focus on disarming (Expelliarmus), Sheilding Charms (Protego) and temporary hexes such as limb and body locking curses.
Travel in groups, keep your eyes and ears open, and learn basic defensive magic. There are no guarantees that this will keep you safe, but it is a hell of a lot better than nothing. Though if there is one thing we are happy to report, it's that the mandrakes are developing on schedule. Current projections predict the potion to revive the victims will be ready by April.
"I still can't believe you advocated for the use of a rumor mill!" O'Malley laughed. "Figured a teacher's daughter would want them to report it to the teachers!"
Hermione rolled her eyes taking the paper from him. "As a teacher's daughter I know how useless grown-ups really are!"
"Do we have trust issues, sunshine?" O'Malley smirked.
"No, of course not!" Hermione rolled her eyes again.
Luna laughed now scratching behind Hermione's ear. "I think the piece was good. I intend on following all of your advice. Sad my piece on Gwynryphinks didn't get much attention, though."
"This is important, Luna," Hermione said. "It could keep someone safe."
"Gwynryphinks are important too," Luna stated matter-of-fact voice. "Both can be important, you know."
Hermione didn't bother asking if this was the right time. She wasn't going to try and get into an argument. Which she felt it would turn to if she pressed. Luna was unusual, and Hermione was fine living with it until it did get someone hurt. And she didn't see that happening soon. Swallow your frustration. Dad would snap at her, I won't...
"I'm surprised you left out so much," O'Malley mused. "Didn't you research scores while stuck here."
"My father would shut us down if that I published anything more," she sighed."And after catching us in the library, I'm not entirely confident that he's still ignorant to your involvement. I figured that's why you stuck to articles on puff pieces and fic-erm-magical creatures. Besides there's nothing solid."
"You don't need it to be air-tight," Luna mused. "You're not one-hundred percent sure of the pipes, are you?"
Hermione felt blush rise in her cheeks and she looked away remembering both Harry and her father's remarks that night. "No," she sighed.
"It's a gut feeling right?" Luna pressed on happily. "Journalistic instinct?"
"Cat ears," she admitted. "I'm really going to miss the enhanced hearing...but the pipes are old. I almost didn't say anything...but on the off chance I'm right, I should let people know right?"
"On the plus side," Luna beamed. "If he does get after you you won't have to talk to him about your mother!"
"Luna!" Hermione choked. "How did you-How?"
Luna's pale skin flushed a rare pink and her silver eyes darted from Hermione's bedside cabinet to her with a nervous smile. "It was a book mark in your copy of 1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi...Should I not have told you that? Maybe I shouldn't have told you that."
"Way to go, Looney," O'Malley rolled his eyes.
"Don't call her that," Hermione groaned. "And I've been avoiding that conversation just fine without incurring his wrath, thank you very much."
An uncomfortable silence passed between the three and Hermione decided she'd rather not ask if Luna had the sense not to read the entire letter. She turned to O'Malley. "I don't take it you have any news for me?"
"None," he admitted. "Elusive as always."
Hermione would have to find another way to investigate Malfoy if O'Malley still couldn't get past 'Malfoy is happy'...
"Silence," Severus said.
Hermione abandoned whatever argument she had constructed and shut her mouth, staring at him her cat features betraying apprehension.
Pomfrey had been kind enough to lend her office after the disastrous attempt at a conversation about the mother he'd conjured.
"This..." he began. "Stupid, moronic, reckless...I told you I would ignore this silly little project of yours if you stayed out of danger. I told you not to get mixed up in the chamber, and you did! Is this some kind of game to you?"
Hermione opened her mouth again holding her tail in place.
"I believe I asked you to be silent!" he snapped.
She just had to go and do something this stupid! It had been a week since his plan to conjure a magical mother for Hermione blew up in his face, and she had been content to pretend it never happened. He gave her space when she asked, and now it seemed she used that space to advocate for students to be suspicious of each other and circulating her groundless theories.
"I told you the pipes were old. This is going to get someone hurt! And advocating students whisper and gossip among each other instead of reporting suspicions to us? The people who actually have the ability to do something about it! What the hell were you thinking?"
"I-erm-" she squeaked. "I thought if there was a chance I might have heard the creature that night, that I had a duty to inform people how it might be getting around unseen. I did say it was only a theory."
"And that hardly undoes the damage of asking students to 'use the rumor mill for good'. Since you're too damn naive to know this, I'll tell you, your pleas to have names omitted will fall on deaf ears. And the advice that they use spells-"
"Like the ones you advised I used in Japan if I got separated?" Hermione hissed.
"Silence! Don't interrupt me again, Hermione Elizabeth," he seethed. "And that was completely different! You stoked panic. There'll now be hundreds of paranoid underage wizards throwing spells at each other by accident and others will take advantage of the panic you created to hex their peers. How-after being put in the fucking hospital for a month and a half-could you not think of that? You reckless little fool!"
"It isn't-"
"Si-lence," he said slowly. "The damage is done. Your little friends seem to be keeping within acceptable parameters, but this is your last article. If you can call this tripe that. And don't think that anonymity will help you. Just by reading this I can tell-quidditch match review was Fred Weasley, articles on clubs were a-I imagine at least- reluctant O'Malley, and I believe Miss Lovegood is responsible for the more, shall we say unconventional articles."
Hermione stared at him nearly choking.
"Yes, it's amazing what one can figure out if they put forth the least bit of effort, isn't it?" he said. "And it just so happens that I read things you write every damn week. I would be surprised if even Lockhart hasn't figured it out by now! Well, I hope you've enjoyed what freedom you had before you were admitted, because you're spending your first week released helping me with inventory for next term."
Hermione nodded silently.
"Anything else you'd like to tell me or would you rather wait until I have a fucking aneurysm?"
Hermione shook her head, again, in silence...the silence he ordered.
Shit!
Hermione gathered her books and letters into her bag after changing into her school robes. Finally she would be released! Examining her reflection she looked much less like the protagonist in Hiro's favourite manga. She lost her tail and claws, her ears were normal sized, in their normal spot, and while covered with her hair, no one could see the sharp points they came to. Her hearing and sight were still better than it was pre-cat form, but nowhere as good as it had been, and her sense of smell had completely gone back to normal. She'd miss that. And the ease of movement and balance her new body had given her. But she was finally out-on the orders she come back once a week, take a daily potion and avoid "overexertion"-but she was out! And she couldn't wait to take classes, casts spells without tutting from Pomfrey, and enact her new plan to spy on Malfoy.
She couldn't be too excited about it, lest her father figured it out, but his punishment gave her the perfect opportunity. All she needed was permission to sign-out Potions Moste Potente. Forging wouldn't work, if her father found out, there had to be an actual teacher behind it.
"But where are you going to find a teacher stupid enough to do that?" Ron asked under his breath after Hermione told them her plan in the common room.
Harry looked as though he had been hit with a sudden brain wave and he closed his copy of Gadding with Ghouls. "I have a very bad idea."
"It's not bad, Harry!" Hermione said taking his meaning. "It's brilliant! That man will sign anything!"
"Lockhart?" Ron gimaced. "Hermione, if your decision to get a real teacher to sign it is to shake off Snape, maybe don't get permission from the one he hates the most?"
"Got a better idea?" Hermione raised her eyebrow. "Besides I already have a story for if I'm asked. 'If I don't have a complete understanding of how these venoms interact Lockhart's going to fail me! The only thing that will save me from that is if I have an intimate understanding of slow acting venoms and how they pertain to Ghouls.'"
"Isn't he already tutoring you for your advancement?" Harry ventured. "Ron might be right."
Hermione could see his retorts as Harry brought that little detail to light. Calm down, you're not going to fail. Potions Moste Potente? I believe Potions is my subject? I'm more than happy to go over slow acting venoms with you, love. No need for that nasty book. Unless you wanted it for some other reason? But you wouldn't be up to something so soon after being caught, would you? They were right. One of them had to do it.
"If I write you a script, can you memorize it, Harry?" Hermione asked. "You are his favourite student."
"Hermione," Harry now grimaced. He was none to keen to spend anytime with Lockhart.
"Please," she pleaded, clasping her hands and leaning very close to him. "I'll owe you one!"
"Just-erm-" Harry sighed. "Don't put too much flattery in the script. And you do owe me, big time."
"Hate Lockhart that much, eh?" Hermione nervously laughed. "I'll-erm-see what I can do."
"Harry!" Lockhart beamed once he approached.
Ron and Hermione hung back, and Hermione prayed he remembered her script. Though she was more afraid he'd take liberties with the flattery she did involve. It was much less than she had planned to use if she asked him herself, Harry was his favourite, he was playing on easy mode.
"Hi, Professor," he said with an unconvincing smile. "Is it alright if I ask you something?"
"Of course, my dear boy!" Lockhart nearly jumped from his seat. "What can I help you with? Fame? Advice?" his blue eyes ventured to Hermione and she heard him whisper in Harry's ear. "Girls?"
Your his teacher, not his father... she felt embarrassment for Harry, her empathy assisted by her own experience of McGonagall's failed attempts at conversations that Hermione 'ought to have with a woman'.
"Oh, it's nothing like that, Professor," Harry said turning a bright pink and casting Hermione a mutinous glare. "There's this book you see-erm-in the restricted section. You talk about slow-acting venoms in Gadding with Ghouls. I thought the book would really help me understand it before the essay was due. It was amazing how you used a tea-strainer with that one in Essex! You must have an incredible understanding of venoms yourself?"
"Well," he chuckled. "These things do come with experience and a bit of genius, if I dare say so myself."
"A bit of genius? You're incredible, Professor," Harry forced through gritted teeth, now burning Hermione with his gaze.
Lockhart, thankfully, did not pick up on this. "Due time, Harry, in due time."
"Which is why I'd like to start with that book, sir," he said.
"Yes, of course, I'd love to sign it," he grabbed his peacock quill. "I usually only use this quill for autographs, but I can certainly make an exception for my favourite student." he leaned in to whisper again. "This extra research isn't to impress your little bushy-haired friend, is it?"
"No," he said firmly.
"He must be really stupid," Hermione mused once they were safely out of earshot. "For someone who lies so much, you're a terrible actor, Harry."
"And you're a terrible script writer!" Harry snapped. "'You're incredible, Professor!' What happened to being light on the flattery?"
"Trust me," Hermione scowled. "If Ron or I did it, we'd have to feed his insatiable ego even more. My plan was to pretend Ron or I had a crush on him, so be thankful I didn't take that route with you!"
"Harry and I are boys, Hermione," Ron groaned.
"So?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"Speaking of, " Harry hissed. "If he lets slip that he thinks I have a crush on you, I swear to God, Hermione!"
"Look at me, Harry," Hermione gestured up and down her whole body. "Nobody would believe it."
"You're not that bad," Ron said. "Like a six-out-of-ten. So it isn't impossible someone might like you. You have nice eyes when they match."
"Ron!" both Harry and Hermione snapped.
"What?"
"What are you hiding from me?" Severus brushing Hermione's hair behind her pointed ear.
Hermione looked up at him with eyes still mismatched; the one that had been yellow deepened to an amber and the green one was now hazel. He wondered what effects she might still be suffering from mentally. He also noted her voice hadn't changed back to normal either. He saw apprehension, but Hermione had much to be apprehensive about. And either despite everything he had done to her, or perhaps because of it, he didn't feel right rooting around in her mind for answers. As always, if it meant her safety, he would do it, but legillimency was a last resort.
"I just-have a lot on my mind," she sighed looking at her feet. "Sorry, I'll focus."
"Is it about your mother?" he asked guilt rising within him. What have I done? This was cruel and stupid from the start...
Hermione bit her lip and kept her eyes glued to the floor still.
Congratulations, Severus, you've destroyed your daughter!
"Listen," he lifted her face. "It's abundantly clear that this is still on your mind, but you don't want to talk about it. So, I'll make this as painless as possible. Your mother's problems are her own. Anything she has done is on her. You had nothing to do with her leaving, and you are not destined to inherit her problems."
Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but decided against it. She simply nodded.
"Are you..." he hesitated. "Okay?"
Hermione bit her lip again and focused her hands on her clasped hands. "Fine," she squeaked. "I'm fine."
"Even without the ears and tail," he sighed. "You are a terrible little liar. But I'll drop it if that's what you really want." Did you really think you'd get to absolve your guilt so easily?
"Please," she nearly whispered.
"Very well," he sighed. "And here I thought-" Don't, you stupid piece of shit. "Never mind. Shall we start?"
"Yessir," she nodded, but not before he saw guilt flash across her face.
The two worked away counting his stores in almost complete silence. Hermione giving numbers of ingredients or other supplies, every now and then for him to record while he wondered if his relationship with his daughter was all down hill from there. Though he'd fucked up worse and thought the same before...
"Your more feline impulses," he said after they'd finished the public stores."Are they managed?"
"Yessir," she said while trying not to let a nearby moth distract her.
"Indeed, they seem so," he sighed. "Though I don't seem to recall your focus being so easily taken by something colourful and fluttering."
"Residual effects," she mumbled with an eye roll.
"Though the mumbling is in character for you," he set a hand on her head. "And we have talked about the eyerolling, Hermione Elizabeth."
"I get some flashes," she admitted. "but I don't act on the impulses. Why do you ask?"
"The Headmaster believes, and I agree with him, that it might be best if we instated a dueling club during these times. Teach students how to cope with a human opponent. However," he poked her forehead lightly. "I'm of two minds. I want you to be equipped for such an attack, but if the stress of simulated combat triggers your 'cat-brain' as you call it, it'd be irresponsible of me to demand you show if you're going to attempt to take out your partner's eye."
Hermione clasped her hands together and stared at them, he wasn't sure, but he wouldn't be surprised if she was thinking of Potter. From her account the boy simply put his hand on her shoulder. How would she respond to an actual threat? And, did he really care if attending could somehow prepare her for attacks?
"You haven't bitten anyone yet, and you've lost your claws," he sighed. "The damage you could potentially do is outweighed by the benefit. You'll go."
Hermione risked making eye contact, mismatched eyes wide in surprise as her face. "But you said-Dad, what if I hurt someone?"
"Pair yourself with one of those who attacked you then," he suggested. "If a group of students can successfully attack you, you're vulnerable."
Hermione made a strained mew before attempting to even her voice. "Anyone would be vulnerable to eight on one, Dad."
"Eight?" he let the number sit in the air.
"Eight."
Eight, when he was her age he had often been ambushed in a four-on-one fight, which he had never had any chance to win. He had thought there were three, but eight, she probably didn't have the choice to react before they were upon her. He knew Hermione attracted ire simply for being his child, but to be okay with eight on one...
"Everyone either hates me or feels sorry for me," Hermione scoffed uncomfortably crossing her arms and trying-and failing-to sound unphased. "Almost at least. I've expected something like this to happen since I enrolled and it'll happen again. It's-it's fine."
"Fine?" he rubbed his temples. "Hermione, these people-whom you refuse to name- altered your brain. How is that fine?"
Hermione didn't have an answer to this, she merely buried her face in her hands and let out a long sigh. "I don't know..." she admitted. "But I can't go and make things worse. And I don't want to hurt anyone if you think that's a possibility."
"I certainly don't see any reason you should lose sleep over it," he said. How are you both so complacent and so stubborn? "You're going."
"Yessir," she nodded.
"Professor Snape has agreed to assist me in our little venture tonight," Lockhart beamed throwing an unwelcomed arm around his shoulders.
Hermione looked at her father and determined the man looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. A small vindictive part of her enjoyed that they were both stuck there. This "Dueling Club" was going to be a complete disaster.
"How'd Lockhart get Snape to agree to that?" Harry whispered in her ear.
"Dumbledore's idea," Hermione said. "Bet he makes a fool of Lockhart and Lockhart brushes it off as 'letting him get one in for educational purposes'."
"Pfft," Ron scoffed. "Look at the way Lockhart's smiling at him. I reckon he puts him in the hospital wing for that."
Hermione rolled her eyes "And get himself sacked? I don't think so. Eighty-seven percent chance he uses a disarming spell. Thirteen a silencing one!"
"Silencing? Can you teach me that one?" Ron asked excitedly. "I can't wait to cast it on that git."
Hermione bit her lip unsure whether to laugh or admonish him. Or which git he meant.
"Silence," her father said to the mass of muttering students after freeing himself. "You won't find this beneficial if you don't pay attention."
The two professors had everyone's undivided attention. They bowed to each other, making Hermione think of Kendo, before sweeping off ten paces away from the other. She watched as Lockhart drew his wand with a flourish, while her father simply drew his and shouted "Expelliarmus!" Which not only caused the wand to fly out of Lockhart's hand, but sent him flying half way across the Great Hall.
"Think he's okay?" Hermione said rising to her tip toes.
"Who cares?" Ron rolled his eyes. "But it sent him flying so you were wrong!"
"That," her father called above the gasps and whispers. "Was a disarming spell. You should find it very useful and will be unlikely to harm your fellow students. Should they have steady footing." he added helping Lockhart to his feet.
"Ah, yes," Lockhart smiled at the students with his usual pompous swagger. "I thought it would be most helpful if the students saw what it was like to be hit by such a spell."
"You're a genius, Hermione," Harry whispered in her ear.
Genius...Still not used to compliments she felt an annoying flush warm her cheeks. "Thanks," she covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.
"Perhaps," her father glared at his opponent. "It would be better to show the students how to block harmful spells?"
Sniggering filled the hall, but Seamus raised his hand.
"Mr. Finnegan appears to have a question," her father's lip curled. "Perhaps you could field it?"
"Ah, yes," Lockhart nodded, still smiling. "Go ahead, Seamus."
"The Hogwarts Herald article about safety tips mentioned Protego as a Shielding Charm. Is that one real?"
"Erm-" Lockhart played with a lock of hair. "I wouldn't put too much stock in that stupid little gossip paper, Seamus. Just a case of a bitter student with little talent or wit spreading misinformation. The author of that article-"
"Was terribly misguided in much of his or her most recent piece," her father nearly snarled at Lockhart.
Hermione didn't think she had ever seen her father so angry at another teacher that wasn't attempting to revive Voldemort. His fists clenched at his sides and he continued through gritted teeth.
"However, the author's misguided attempts at advice they are not qualified to give, the advice that you learn defensive magic was correct. The Shielding Charm is indeed Protego." He threw a stone overhead, then waved his wand over his head creating an invisible shield which the rock bounced off. "And it's cast like so. We are going to divide you into pairs. If there is an odd number Professor Lockhart or myself will pair with the straggler."
Her father stalked his way over to the three of them. He no longer appeared livid, but there was still a trace of the flame in his black eyes. She wondered if he was going to take his frustrations with Lockhart on Harry. However she couldn't make out how she felt about the situation. He'd just defended her while simultaneously calling her out. And potentially outed the author's gender to the entire student body. Would his defence make Hermione the obvious suspect?
"I think it's best if we split up the Golden Trio," he mused. "Weasley! I want you with Finnegan," he pointed to Seamus.
Ron gave a nervous glance over to Harry, but obeyed, teaming up with a Seamus who had given Dean the 'I'm sorry, mate' look.
Harry crept closer to Hermione and Hermione was certain her father could curdle Harry's blood with his gaze. "Not while I draw breath, Potter."
"I wanted to partner with her for a dueling exercise, not marry her," Harry seethed.
I knew this was going to be a disaster! Hermione covered her eyes and looked down after giving an exasperated sigh.
"As evidenced by the fact that you still draw breath," her father said. "Ten points for the cheek, I think. Now who will-Ah, yes," he looked over to a cluster of Slytherins including Malfoy and smirked. "Draco, why don't we see what you can make of the great Harry Potter?"
Malfoy sauntered over to Harry with an evil smirk on his face, certainly thinking he could-in her father's words- "see what he could make of the great Harry Potter." Hermione hoped Malfoy made a fool of himself. She saw non-approved offensive spells being exchanged between those two idiots and muttered beneath her breath : "They will kill each other."
"Doubtful," her father didn't bother to lower his voice. "I do wonder if there is an even number of you...Perhaps it's best if you-"
"Millicent doesn't have a partner!" Hermione pointed at the large girl looking betrayed as Pansy paired with another Slytherin girl Hermione didn't know the name of.
"Hermione," he said slowly. "I doubt that will go well. She's older than you."
"You're advancing me two years," she replied calmly. "So we'll be peers."
"She's twice your size."
"It's a good thing we're fighting with magic," she retorted.
"What happened to your concern about hurting one of your peers?" he raised an eyebrow.
"She's an eighth of those you don't see why I should lose sleep over hurting," Hermione admitted wondering if his vindictive nature would allow her to pair with her.
"And you want to partner with the girl who attacked you?"
"You suggested it," she shrugged. "And frankly, I'm not sure you can give me a single reason-other than the fact that I'm your daughter-not to partner the two last women standing."
"Fine," he seethed. "Miss Bulstrode!" he called before whispering in her ear. "Must you always use my own words against me?"
"I've learned from the best," she cast him a meaningful glance.
Just get close enough to grab her hair...easy.
Millicent was more than twice Hermione's size, and narrowed her dark eyes on Hermione. It was if she was torn between playing nice with her Head of House's daughter and tormenting her more. Hermione made some nervous niceties to get them out of the way, and Millicent stared at her, her mind still working out what to do with her.
The two stepped towards each other to bow before taking their ten paces. Hermione successfully disarmed Millicent a number of times and blocked a mispronounced body-locker curse before she had truly earned the older girl's ire. Millicent went purple in the face as glared at Hermione with a gaze that churned her stomach. Her cat instincts told her to dive beneath one of the moved tables, but she stood firm. If Millicent physically attacked her, she could grab her hair. It'd simply look like Hermione was defending herself. Her father and Lockhart shouldn't notice with hexes being thrown around the room from every angle.
"You think you're so much better than everyone, don't you!" Millicent spat.
"Aww," Hermione forced feeling a mixture of disgust in herself and fear. "That's not true. But I don't believe I need seven people as back up to handle you. So...maybe I am." I am such a bitch...
"You bitch!" Millicent cried, neglecting the pretense of the duel and seizing her by the wrist. "I don't need help to take care of a little stray like you!"
Millicent seemed to know Judo or some other form of marital arts. She was surprisingly fast for a girl her size and before Hermione could move, Millicent had used one of her arms to wrench Hermione's behind her, causing her to bite her lip to stifle a cry of pain. Which didn't work well, as Neville and Dean beside them stared at the two of them. Millicent used her other arm to grip around Hermione's neck from behind.
The room spun and Hermione's heart pounded in her ears as her eyes flooded with tears. A tightness formed in her chest as she took deep and shallow breaths to try and urge breath into her, without luck. Her limbs twitched and she froze. I did this on purpose? I can't believe...I'm so stupid! I can't... She grew more light-headed and her body felt as though her bones were made of lead. She grew dizzier and something caught her eye. A long strand of black hair on Millicent's sleeves. Desperation cried in Hermione's brain as she used her free hand to grasp at it, and suddenly her brain did something else.
Hermione's body moved without her knowledge. She bit the arm holding her head. Millicent let out a yelp, releasing her and Hermione spun, shaky on her feet and swiped at Millicent's face before darting backwards, nearly falling.
"You crazy bitch!" she cried launching at her.
Hermione hissed nearly dodged Millicent's attack, but her arm was once again seized. Hermione feared she'd be put in the hold again, as she tried to wriggle out of Millicent's grasp. It seemed Hermione had spent whatever energy she could spend to get away before, now she felt weak, and even while she squeaked and hissed she felt her effort grow more pathetic. Just one more rush of adrenaline...Just...get away, scratch, bite, hiss...
"GIRLS!" her father's voice shouted from behind her.
Shit!
Millicent released her and Hermione once more fell backwards and she had to tell herself not to bite the hands that steadied her. She could keep her cat-brain quiet while Millicent tried to strangle her, she could do it now. Calm down...
"What happened here," her father seethed.
"Sh-she-she bit me, Professor!" Millicent pleaded.
Hermione got a good look at Millicent's face for the first time, it was nowhere near as bad as Harry's had been, but she did manage to get four nails to dig deep and drag across her right cheek. She rolled up her sleeve and showed a beefy arm with a bleeding bite mark that looked like that of an oversized and panicked cat. Hermione's teeth weren't quite normal-or normal for her-yet. She did more damage than she wanted. And her father was not supposed to notice. If she gets expelled...it's because I wanted to impersonate her...it's all my fault.
"I see," he said in a cold dangerous voice. "And trying to break her arm was a proportional response?"
"No, sir," Millicent suddenly looked very small and very scared.
"I," Hermione gasped. "I started it, sir," she admitted staring at the blood on her nails. "Body just-acted. Perceived a threat...cat-brain took over...my fault. Look at her face."
"You're not-Shit!" he started when he heard a high male voice incant a spell. "We will be talking about this!"
He didn't have to go far to see who cast during the pause. The source was beside him. Malfoy had summoned a king cobra, how looked quite ready to spring at Harry, or near by Justin Finch-Fletchly. Harry gripped his wand tightly, and his green eyes darted from the snake to Justin in an incredibly fast panic. This wasn't going to end well.
"Stand back, Potter," he said.
Hermione didn't think Harry heard her father. Instead, panic griped his white face and he shouted something in a series of hisses that felt more like a language than the sounds Hermione stifled from her own mouth. A theory confirmed when the snake titled it's head, regarding Harry as though listening...language...shit!
Others had figured it out as well, staring at him and gasping. Justin's flesh blanched to the shade of soured milk and he regarded Harry with fear. Her father though, once he got rid of the snake, he glared at Harry as if he suspected him of murder. He scrutinized the poor boy's face with an intensity she hadn't seen before. He was jumping to all the wrong conclusions.
Harry's eyes darted across the Great Hall, staring at Ron and Hermione in a mixture of fear and confusion that matched everyone's in the Hall.
Hermione endured Pomfrey's comments of "I knew I released you too early!" and "I told you to avoid situations like that!" while she treated Millicent's arm and face. Luckily they were both released and ventured to their own common rooms happy to ignore each other. Her father and Lockhart were reporting the disaster and Harry's newfound gift to Dumbledore, meaning Hermione was free to focus on this most recent piece of the puzzle- I mean comfort Harry...
"Parseltongue?" Harry asked sitting by the fireplace looking quite disturbed.
"Means you can talk to snakes, mate," Ron explained.
"More specifically," Hermione looked up from the library's copy of Secrets of Salazar Slytherin. "Parseltongue is a language that allows you to speak to snakes. But you can't learn it, it's innate. People born with this ability inherit it from their ancestors and are called Parselmouths. That's why everyone looked at you like that, Harry."
"But," Harry swallowed and he joined Hermione on the hearth with pinched desperation in his voice. "Loads of wizards must have that ability, right?"
Hermione shook her head. "Don't you remember when we read all those different books on Slytherin back in the hospital? The last documented Parselmouth came from his family."
"But," he stared at both Ron and Hermione. "I'm in Gryffindor, my parents were in Gryffindor. I can't be related to Slytherin. I can't."
"It was centuries ago, Harry," Hermione bit her lip and stared into the flames. "I'll look into the family tree, but not every branch can be traced. But, Harry, take it from me, a distant biological link-it doesn't mean anything. It doesn't-it can't have any bearing on who you are as a person."
"But," Harry ventured. "How can you be sure?"
Because it has to be...Hermione thought, but instead offered a weak smile. "Because we know you, Harry. And nothing could make you like the so-called heir. Blood means nothing."
"Says the girl who's always defending Snape," Ron teased joining the two on the floor.
"Because he raised me, Ron. Blood has nothing to do with it." Though I guess I know it's both now... "You'd never catch me saying the same things about the woman who gave birth to me."
"You mean your mother?" Ron laughed.
"So, Harry," Hermione turned to him. "Are you absolutely certain you have no clue when you're speaking Paseltongue?"
Harry nodded solemnly. "To me, it's just like I'm speaking English."
"And when they speak back?" Hermione asked thinking suddenly about the voices in the walls on he claimed to hear.
"English," he said.
"Did the cobra speak to you?" Hermione asked thinking of the silent snake ready to launch at Justin.
"Don't be mad," Ron said. "We were right beside him, the snake didn't make a-"
"But it did speak to me!" Harry said. "You two didn't hear anything?"
Just like the voices. All Hermione heard was the movement of something sliding-no slithering!-in the pipes. Harry was hearing a monster that spoke Parseltongue. That's why even with Hermione's enhanced senses she heard nothing. Hermione resolved to go to the library to research snake monsters in the morning. This lead should allow her to find out what it was. The last piece of the puzzle would be the student controlling it...Hermione gripped the piece of hair in her fist tighter. And I have a plan for that...