Fourth
"Oh Hello, Hermione. What brings you here today? Please, take a seat."
Dumbledore sat placid and composed on the elegant red velvet armchair that fit rather well the style of his office, his hand brushing again the silvery beard pensively as he held a steaming cup of tea. The large, circular room was as charming and as boisterous as she remembered it, with countless ancient and lively portraits whispering and chatting unbothered, and hundreds of noisy mystical objects all around the shelves and the desk.
As Hermione advanced towards the Headmaster, she noticed that there was ash strewn all over Fawkes' cage and that a tiny animal was emerging from it with a flimsy, trembling movement. It looked so frail and small, but this little bird had saved her life. She briefly crouched down to look at the baby Phoenix with tenderness in her eyes and joy in her heart. She thought about the Phoenix's glowing flames that had overpowered Death Eaters and the tears that had transformed her Time Turner into a marvelous, incredible object. But most of all she thought about the parchment with Dumbledore's signature and the role he played in her success with the spell.
He had somehow anticipated or even planned all along, the execution of the Vim Extermina Tempore Spell. But when exactly did this happen? Since he was supposed to die during that year, he must have already known what to do in case of Harry's defeat. The biggest question was, would he ever tell her what she was meant to do in the first place? He had always been a mysterious man, after all. There was only one way to find out.
She took a seat on the other velvet armchair right in from of him, which was as comfortable as she had imagined it to be, and found herself fidgeting as she spoke.
"Hello Professor, I was hoping I could discuss a very important matter with you."
Hermione wondered if Dumbledore had even heard her as he peacefully kept sipping his tea. A few seconds later, another elegant porcelain cup came floating to them and then landed in her palms. The delicious smell of red raspberry filled her nostrils and reinvigorated her spirit, soothing her mind and making her wonder if the tea was a calculated move, too.
"I find that a good cup of tea before complex discussions sharpens the mind and favors clear thinking. I hope you like raspberry, it's my favorite."
Many great things could be said about Dumbledore but going straight to the point had never been his forte.
"Yes, uhm, it was very good thank you. So, about the matter…"
She paused for a brief moment and took a deep breath before speaking again, her voice firmer and confident this time:
"What I am about to tell you might or might not sound strange to you, but… this is not the first time I am living through this year, and it seems like you are the main reason why I'm here once again."
She heard the wise man sigh pensively, his brows arching up and furrowing as he took another sip from the elegant cup. After a minute or two, his relaxing voice cut through the silence that had descended upon them.
"You see, Hermione, what you say brings me relief and affliction at the same time. But the first prevails nonetheless. I was not sure this day would ever come, and what you accomplished is far greater than any other wizard our time has seen. As I am sure you already know, how you shape the path laying ahead is what will determine your success. You must have a lot of questions, and I will do what is in my power to answer them."
"Yes, Professor. I do have quite a few questions. A lot, actually. I would like to start with the most pressing one. Whenever it was that you planned this out, I know that you had at least an inkling of how to change the outcome of the war. I have done my best to pinpoint the cause of our downfall, and my reasoning brought me to believe that this year had been, somehow, the crucial one for the future. But I am still not sure that my choice was correct. It is something I cannot quite describe, but I just felt that much had to do with you and what have not yet told us. Professor, there is a book you gave me after…. after the end of this year. It is the first original copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. I know there was something more to it and we just never had the time to find out what it was really about. Would you be able to discuss that with me?"
Half-truths tasted as bitter as vermouth on Hermione's tongue, but she was still unsure if she should reveal how his death was going to unfold in the next few months. Playing with time was a risky little game, and she did not know how much she should reveal. But a glimpse of understanding glistened in Dumbledore's eyes, and she wondered whether the Headmaster had already thought in detail about his death at that point in time.
"You should have a little more faith in yourself. You might be still very young, but I believe you have seen things that most adults of this time have had the fortune not to experience yet, and this makes you much wiser than you think. Very well then. Where to start…There is indeed something I believe will change the outcome of the war significantly, and that, although I am not completely sure of it, might work. It is with a heavy heart that I tell you that you cannot know exactly what it is. What I can reveal to you is that you were right to follow your intuition: this year will likely be pivotal for determining what will happen next, and the solution lies within your hands. The book you mention is a piece of the puzzle that must be put together, but that as well will still have to wait some more time..."
"But how am I supposed to change the future if I don't know what I have to do? I am not sure I understand why you are hiding this information from me. Is there anything specific you could tell me about what you know?"
Hermione never was that much of a patient person, so she was not surprised when her words came out a little harsher than she expected. She thought there was definitely no time for Dumbledore's intricate mysticism.
"Do not worry, there are matters that I can be more transparent about and that I will guide you through. As you are something close to a time traveler, I believe you are aware of the situation that the young Malfoy heir is in?"
The young witch almost recoiled at Dumbledore's words. She thought about what had happened the day before, and she found herself being self-conscious of how foolishly she had acted. Malfoy could have been making up a scene to distract her and grab her wand, and she had been careless in helping him. Why had she even helped him to such an extent remained a mystery as well. She loathed him for everything he represented and stood for. But in that moment, he had just seemed so vulnerable to her, to the point she had momentarily forgotten who he was… and she could not afford to do that.
"Yes, I know very well about Malfoy's vile involvement with Voldemort and Death Eaters, and hindering his plans is currently my top priority. I will be monitoring him constantly as soon as he recovers from the incident. Is there anything else you would like me to do? Do you think that I should take more drastic measures to stop him?"
She was sure that Dumbledore could feel the resentment and the subtle hints she let on, easily detectable when she stressed the word incident when discussing Malfoy's recovery. But whether the Headmaster actually did, she could not tell for sure: his expression stayed soft and curious: not a sign of surprise or displeasure stole his features. In an odd way, this only contributed to increasing Hermione's mixed feelings of guilt and anger.
"There is something that I would advise you to do Hermione, but it is much different than what you think. In the past months, I have keenly observed Mr. Malfoy's behavior and I believe the boy has yet to cross the path of non-return. Actually, I think that, with a little help, he might never do so, despite the adverse environment he has been raised in. This is why I will ask you the favor of becoming closer to him. I will be able to make some arrangements to pair you up with a school project if you agree to my request.
Words of shock and rage rolled out of Hermione's tongue before she could stop them.
"So you want me to befriend a Death Eater? You do not understand, Professor: Draco Malfoy is evil. He took the mark last summer! He was trying to use a cursed necklace he got from Borgin and Burkes to harm you and other innocent students! Can you believe that? And he is also working to repair the Vanishing Cabinet to let Death Eaters into the school! This makes him well past the point of non-return. Besides, All I will ever be to him is a filthy Mudblood."
She realized that having outburst in front of one of the most respected and beloved wizards of all time, as well as her Headmaster, was not the most appropriate reaction, but she could not bring herself to care anymore. She felt that what she was being asked to do was utterly wrong and unfair, and she had to speak up.
"I understand your concerns Hermione, and I know that you have been through a great deal. But I ask you to trust me on this matter. It is exactly because of your origins that I want you to attempt to influence Mr. Malfoy. I want you to show him that what he has always believed in is the result of ill-founded prejudice. Remember that Malfoy has known few else than hate in the course of his life."
The last few words somewhat struck the Gryffindor, and after a long pause, in which Hermione pondered her options, she spoke at last.
"I am skeptical that my involvement will ever change anything, and if I see that this is not working, I will return to my original intended plan and take different measures. But I would be a fool not to trust one of the wisest and most brilliant minds the wizarding world has ever known. I will do what you ask. Although I want to make clear that I will never be close to Malfoy; I will just talk to him as you say. What project were you thinking…"
Hermione's discourse trailed off when she felt a sudden heat in her pocket that was starting to burn and irritate her skin. She quickly extracted the source of her distress and was baffled to find the scarlet Time Turner, the seven glowing pearls around the sandglass staring back at her. The turner was now so incandescent that she had to place it on the table in front of her and cast a cooling charm on it. As she glared at the sophisticated object with confusion, she noticed that one of the seven pearls had started turning a different color. The faint silvery color of the first tear had turned a deep ocean blue while yet retaining its characteristic glow. What was the meaning of that sudden change?
The witch shot a confused look to Dumbledore, whose mouth had twisted upwards as his eyes had swept to the turner.
"Quite an incredible and marvelous object, isn't it?"
"I felt it heating up suddenly and now one pearl looks different. Do you know why this happened?"
"I have never seen a Time Turner like this before." said Dumbledore with a fascinated expression, "but I believe it might have something to do with the alteration of this timeline. I will give you permission to do some research in the restricted section. There should be a tome on ancient magic that might explain these changes."
And then Dumbledore gave her more information on the works on Time Travel and ancient magic that could be found in the restricted section and asked her to visit his office every week, before dismissing her with a polite nod and the promise that he would tell her more on other occasions.
Hermione left the Headmaster's office with far more questions than answers, other than a burning frustration that left her bitter and dejected. As she walked through the crowded and jubilant corridors littered with students celebrating Gryffindor's late proclaimed victory of the Quidditch match, she could not stop thinking about Dumbledore's unreasonable request, and, for the first time, she felt sick of being used as a pawn in his game.
At the same time, she understood that some things were far more important than her long-time hatred for a school bully in the grand scheme of things, and she knew that Dumbledore was her only ally in her quest to win this war. Telling Ron and Harry might have been an option, but something about Dumbledore's words let her think that Malfoy would be somewhat important to her success, and if she confirmed her best friends that he was indeed a Death Eater, they might do something risky and unprecedented. This time she would not have a second chance, and she knew how impulsive Ron and Harry could get. Telling the truth would have to wait, and she hated the situation she was in. Never had she kept such a big secret from them before, and this only contributed to increase the weight graving upon her shoulders. She felt just like the Cassandra: endowed with the "gift" of knowing the future, but unable to pass her cursed knowledge to the ones close to her.
"Hermione! What are you doing here all alone? Come to the Common Room! We are celebrating today!"
She snapped out of her trance as soon as she felt Ron's voice calling her, and with a heavy heart and a guilty conscience, she started marching towards him, her long cloak trailing after her as she disappeared among the crowd of cheering students.
He could not wait any longer, he knew it full well.
The visceral fear that came over him ran through his veins and clenched around his insides just like venom. It was inevitably consuming him and would always ripple through his hammering heart, growing stronger and stronger as time progressed. He despised himself for how weak fear had made him, but he felt powerless and vulnerable when confronted with it. He had to do it today, there was no other choice.
"What are you doing Mr. Malfoy? You can't leave your bed now! You are still badly injured, and I won't allow it!"
Madam Pomfrey's voice was shrill and unpleasant, almost reminding him of the screeching sound of nails striding against a chalkboard. Actually, it sounded more like a mandrake ripping out his eardrums. Salazar, that woman could not shut her mouth if her life depended on it. She just kept rambling on and on about how irresponsible and careless he was, and how disappointed his professors would be when she informed them of his behavior. Like he gave a flying fuck about them. Besides, he had someone far more terrifying to respond to.
Straightening his posture and adopting his familiar arrogant stance, he lifted himself up with a great deal of effort and started crawling towards the exit, completely ignoring the loud and vexing complaints of the old rag. But just when he was about to approach the main door, he found himself ungracefully floating in the air, his cloak twisting up and enveloping him like a potato sack, to be transported once again on his much-hated hospital bed. How dare she treat him like filth? To say Draco was seething with rage was an understatement.
"Do you know who my father is? I will get you kicked out of here!" He growled, but he knew that any attempt of reasoning with the mediwitch would be futile: It was not the first time he ended up in the Hospital Wing, and he knew how headstrong she could be.
Draco snorted loudly and scolded himself for being so foolish to have attempted an escape from the Hospital Wing in the daylight. He would have to wait until the sun went down and make his move. And so, reluctant but equally exhausted, he slept. The remaining effects of the Dreamless Potion did not come to his rescue this time: Nagini's vicious, ghastly coils loomed over him and strangled his sleep for endless hours.
Notes: So what do you think? What is Dumbledore hiding? I would love to hear some of your thoughts! Also, leaving a small comment to tell me what you liked (or what you didn't like) would really mean a lot! Thank you all for reading my story :)
Ari