"Krum? Viktor Krum? Are you sure?"
"Yes. Positive." Hermione didn't glance up from Zabini's ring and the ancient runes inscribed on it. She turned it this way and that by the light of the fire.
"No. No way. Why would Krum visit Slug Club?" James was shaking his head in disbelief.
"Do you realise he's an international superstar?" Sirius added, aghast.
"Yes, Sirius," she said, rolling her eyes.
They were in the Gryffindor common room and it was now almost eleven o'clock at night. Hermione was still in her chiffon dress, sitting on the couch by the fire. On either side of her sat Sirius and James, both in their Gryffindor pyjamas.
"Did you get an autograph at least? Please, please tell me you got an autograph …" James pressed his palms together as if in prayer.
Hermione sighed. "He just seemed like a normal person, it would have been weird to ask. No one made any fuss, not really. He was there with the Assistant Minister of Magic-"
"Oh screw the Assistant bloody Minister," Sirius interrupted.
"-to make some speeches about magical unity. Honestly, I wasn't really paying attention, it just sounded like grandstanding. The usual from the Ministry. Apparently, Krum was an old pupil of Slughorn's at Durmstrang," she added. The runes on the ring seemed to shimmer in the light of the fire.
"I can't believe you met Krum," James bemoaned.
"We talked to him as well-"
"We?"
"Oh, Riddle was there also. We talked about Grindelwald – Krum didn't hold back in condemning him publicly."
"I wonder if Krum's here in Britain because Kamfir is getting replaced and they need a new Beater…" James wondered to himself.
Suddenly, the ring began to burn hot in her hands. The runes were glowing red. Then the lines of each rune, previously indecipherable, shifted until it formed a word. Clymenus.
It continued to glow for a few seconds until the letters shifted back into the mysteriously unreadable glyphs.
"That's odd. Has it done that before?" Sirius asked, perturbed.
She shook her head. She gave him the ring to look at for himself. He bent his head, his dark locks falling about his face as he inspected it closely.
"I wonder why it'd do that all of a sudden. Maybe it's conveying a secret message. Although, who'd be sending Zabini a secret message at this time of night?"
James wasn't interested in the ring. "Have you done something different with your hair?" He was looking at her, as if he'd just noticed.
Hermione touched her hair self-consciously, amused.
The following morning, Hermione received word at breakfast that detention would be administered by Professor Volanthen himself that evening.
Miss Granger, the note began, This is a reminder that your 7 days of detention shall begin this evening. You were given detention as punishment for casting a lethal spell against another student - this was expressly forbidden. Meet me at my office after dinner, at seven o'clock. Dress warmly and bring dragonhide gloves.
"What on earth-" she muttered. Dragonhide gloves? She looked up at the Slytherin table and saw Riddle reading a similar-looking note.
James stifled a yawn as he slid onto the bench next to her. He bent his head over her shoulder, reading the note. "Detention?" he asked, surprised.
Hermione's cheeks flushed. "Oh, I forgot to tell you I- um-" The news probably hadn't spread to the Gryffindors yet, although she'd noticed lately that the students in Slytherin and Ravenclaw had begun to eye her with a little less disinterest after the duel.
Another face loomed over her other shoulder. "For 'casting a lethal spell against another student?'" Sirius read loudly.
"Shh please," Hermione ducked her head in embarrassment as people at their table turned around.
"Who was it?" Lupin asked curiously, looking up from his bowl of Ingleberries and milk.
When she told them, they fell silent. She looked up, her face red, and was surprised to see that all three of them looked astonished.
"Well, it's not- hardly as if- Riddle cursed me back too you know-"
Sirius silenced her with a hug. He was positively beaming.
After dinner, Hermione collected her dragonhide gloves and her winter cloak from her dorm room and proceeded down the stairs of the Gryffindor Tower. On the way she bumped into a familiar figure. She looked him up and down with a groan.
"Riddle."
"Granger."
She resumed walking and he fell into step alongside her.
They walked silently for a couple of minutes. Words, unspoken, hung in the air; her mouth was pressed into a thin line to keep them from tumbling out. They were incoherent, half-formed thoughts (and complaints) which did not deserve to be said out loud. (She knew her way to Volanthen's office, thank you very much. And one does not accost people by kissing- if he thought for one second that -)
The interminable silence continued until their arrival at Volanthen's office. Riddle reached out a hand and knocked once, twice.
Volanthen opened the door. "Come in," he said, sternly.
The office was hexagonal in shape and all six walls were filled with shelves of books, scrolls and artefacts. A mahogany desk sat in the middle, with more books and scrolls piled on top. There was a handsome grey goose feather quill sitting in its stand and next to it a Sneakoscope hovered above a small plinth.
It occurred to Hermione that Volanthen was a serious academic. Defence Against the Dark Arts was usually a very practical subject and previous professors who had held that position had never emphasised history or research as much as Volanthen had so far. The weeks of history before they finally got to duel made sense now.
"Sit," Volanthen said, waving his hand at two small stools that appeared on the other side of his desk.
He stood before them, his gaze impassive. Then abruptly, his face cracked into a ferocious grin.
"You know why you're here. I'd like you to first tell me what spell you each used against each other and why. And then we'll get moving."
Hermione looked at Riddle. He didn't volunteer so she spoke first. "I used a variant of the Bat Bogey Hex, sir. I used it because … it just occurred to me in the moment, I didn't think about it." Her voice faded.
Riddle spoke. "I used a curse I had read about recently in a book. I was expecting Miss Granger to block it as she had done many times before, sir. I would not have used it if I had known how Dark it was and how dangerous."
Liar, she thought. Her eyes flashed and Riddle glanced at her, but kept his expression remorseful. To complete the picture, he looked down at his feet, as if he was feeling guilty. She felt indignation rise once again, colouring her cheeks.
Volanthen surprised them both by chuckling. It was a deep, gravelly sort of chuckle.
"I doubt you would have read about that curse in any old book, my boy."
Riddle looked up and for the first time he did look a little abashed. His expression didn't change but Hermione rather thought the tips of his ears were a bit pink.
"Nevertheless. There's no use denying your talent. Both of you cast non-verbally, recognising each other's spells enough to counter them even before they're fully cast. I've never ever seen fifth years at this level." Hermione let out a breath she'd been holding. This was not what she had expected to hear. "However, this does not mean that what you did was even remotely forgivable." His brows furrowed and his gaze became steely. "We do not cast lethal spells, Dark spells, against other students in this school. Which is why you're here. You've brought your dragonhide gloves yes? Good. Follow me."
He ushered them out the door of his office and then began down the corridor towards the west entrance, his dragon-wing cloak rustling.
Hermione and Riddle walked behind him. She noted that she had to do a little half-sprint occasionally to keep up with the brisk pace. Riddle, who was much taller and seemed to have no trouble at all, noticed this and grinned. It was a wholly unreserved grin, which he only seemed to do when no one else was looking.
She ignored him until she realised that they were now outside and seemed to be heading towards the Forbidden Forest.
"Surely, we aren't going to the Forbidden Forest, Professor?" she called out.
Volanthen replied, without turning. "We are, indeed."
She exchanged a look with Riddle. What on earth did Volanthen have in store for them? The Forest was expressly out of bounds to all students. There were rumours of Dark creatures and strange twisting paths that led people astray. The Forest itself, with its ancient trees, was full of magic, and not the good kind.
The trees were sparce at the edges of the Forest but a few metres in, the trees grew closer together and the dark branches twisted high above, blocking off the sky and snow. It became pitch black. Lumos, they each whispered and their wands emitted a soft light. But the darkness felt so whole, it threatened to overwhelm them. They had to walk carefully between the roots which grew haphazardly, shining their wands at their feet as they did so.
"Right. We've found a few, finally." Volanthen's wand lit up a few shadowy plants in the growth. "Put on your dragonhide gloves. These are bubotubers and Madame Pomfrey and Professor Slughorn want as many as you can find."
Hermione stepped closer and discovered they were indeed bubotubers. They looked like thick black slugs on a bed of leaves, glistening and writhing. The plants were covered with shiny raised bumps which contained a foul-smelling pus that had a variety of uses, one of them being a key ingredient for Healing Potions. The dragonhide gloves made sense now. The pus, if it touched bare skin, would cause horrible painful boils to erupt.
"I trust you know how to harvest bubotubers? You must be gentle." Volanthen reached down and gently gathered the leaves at the base of the plant so he could get a firm grip. He tugged and uprooted it in one motion. "Like so."
Hermione tried it on the next plant. It was horrible looking, certainly. The slug-like part of the plant squirmed and writhed, its shiny yellow pustules quivering. If she gripped the plant too hard, the pustules would explode and she did not want to be covered in boils for the next few days. It took quite a bit of careful force to uproot as the soil was cold and slightly frozen. Although the winter snow never reached the deep depths of the Forbidden Forest, the ground still froze over and the air was chilly.
"But sir, can't we just cut it out of the soil?" Riddle asked.
"No, because that would be too easy wouldn't it?" Volanthen said, narrowing his eyes. "Believe it or not, the roots are useful so I've been told you should keep them intact."
The bubotubers were placed in a large wheelbarrow that Volanthen had summoned. It was Professor Whittle's wheelbarrow. It moved on its own volition, navigating the rough ground easily. The wheelbarrow usually sat in one of the greenhouses, following Professor Whittle around whenever she needed to fertilise new plants, or house them in new pots.
"Right, I'll give you an hour to fill up the wheelbarrow. Follow the path and don't get lost. I shall meet you at the edge of the Forest when you're done."
Riddle's mouth fell open in shock. Hermione's eyes widened in horror, also. "Do you mean, Professor, that you will be leaving us all alone … in the Forbidden Forest?"
Volanthen smiled grimly. "You won't be in any danger. This part of the Forest has been warded off for our purposes. But," he emphasised, "do not stray from the path. You can leave a little trail so you don't get lost." He demonstrated by letting loose a red spark from his wand, leaving it hanging in the air like a glowing ember. "Igniculus."
He must have seen the look on their faces. "Don't worry, it's perfectly safe. There are no other creatures in this part of the Forest right now. Collect the bubotubers and the wheelbarrow will lead you back to me."
When they had walked further down the path by themselves, a trail of embers behind them, Riddle let out a scornful laugh. "Only at Hogwarts, where brilliance is punished with some late night gardening in a Dark forest." He shook his head.
"Brilliance? We're being punished for breaking the rules, Riddle." Hermione only committed to the argument half-heartedly. She had never expected them to be foraging in a forest filled with Dark magic and Dark creatures, alone, unsupervised. Wards or not. She'd expected cleaning cupboards, scrubbing floors, writing lines. Not this. She let her lip curl in slight disapproval.
"The distinction between lethal and non-lethal spells is so laughably arbitrary. I could have killed you with Wingardium Leviosa, if I'd wanted to."
Hermione felt outraged. "There's a difference between Wingardium Leviosa and the throat crushing curse you used. One can be blocked by a second year and the other …" She shook her head. "I can't believe you used the Offocare curse on me. Such an evil spell."
She felt Riddle's surprise next to her. "You know of it?"
"I've read about it, like you. Although, it's funny, I'm pretty sure that particular book has been banned for a few years now. Got some rather nasty curses in there hasn't it?"
"Oh, I'm not sure I recall." She could hear the grin in the darkness.
The next hour passed excruciatingly slowly. The bubotubers grew in patches fewer than five. One had to be careful in this part of the Forest, the only part where bubotubers grew, not to accidentally step on them in the dark. Hermione almost did and let out a shrill shriek, her arms flailing as she tried to right herself. Ignoring Riddle's soft laughter somewhere next to her, she transfigured a leaf into a small glass jar. Bright blue flames began to flicker inside the jar, much brighter than their wand tips. The jar lit the surrounding area so that she could see more of the ground, but it also made the shadows around her flicker, as if unseen beasts were moving in the dark, at the edges of her vision. She let the jar float in the air next to her as she foraged. Riddle did something similar, except his flames were green and encased in an elegant glass orb.
By the end of the hour, they were dirty and exhausted. Each had fallen more times than they cared to admit. The tree roots were devious, it was almost as if they moved deliberately in order to trip them. The path was worn but narrow, sometimes obscured by the thick undergrowth. All the while, Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. The forest was too quiet, too still around them. She felt the back of her neck prickle more than a couple of times.
"Do you feel it?" Riddle asked quietly, when Hermione looked over her shoulder for the third time at the shadows behind them.
Hermione met his gaze. She couldn't see even the slightest hint of fear in those dark eyes. He was calm, as always. Not wanting to seem scared, she shrugged, ignoring the prickling feeling.
"It's magic in its rawest form. Power." He breathed in deeply, looking at the Forest around them.
Hermione repressed a shudder. "The Forest has been known to intentionally lead people astray, swallowing them, spitting them back out years later, a shell of themselves." She couldn't help the way that sounded, a little tremulous. Darn it.
Riddle looked at her calmly. "I wouldn't let anything happen to us, don't worry."
The prickling feeling was suddenly overwhelmed by annoyance. "What are you going to do if the Forest decides it's going to eat us then? We're fifth years! People have been getting lost in here for decades. Researchers. Aurors."
"Oh, you don't know me, Granger." His lips curled in a half smile. "I know things that you don't know." He brought a hand to her face, touched it briefly and let his hand drop.
Hermione tried to ignore the heat that bloomed in her cheeks. She turned back to the bubotuber at hand.
"It was nice," he said.
"What?" She didn't look up.
"What we did yesterday. I never knew it would feel nice."
Hermione was positive her cheeks had turned scarlet. She didn't know what to say. This was a new and dizzying dimension of reality that she had never faced before.
"What do you mean, 'we'. You did it Riddle. Without my permission I might add," she grumbled, still looking down at the stupid bubotuber which refused to part from the soil.
She stilled as she felt his hand lift her chin. He had taken off his glove in the dark. His fingers were cold. Warily, she met his gaze.
"Permission?" His face was unreadable, as usual.
She scoffed, trying to look away.
"You didn't lean away before it happened."
She huffed exasperatedly but didn't respond. It was true. She hadn't. There had been a pause after he'd leaned in, awfully close, like he was now, and she had let that moment linger and grow, until eventually … It was a very chaste kiss, really, nothing in comparison to, you know, what Sirius did with Bella sometimes in the Gryffindor common room. But still, it made her furiously embarrassed.
"Was it your first?"
"What? I- er- yes." She found it impossible to lie, as if she was pinned under his gaze.
Something brushed her thoughts. It was a slight touch, as if a cool wind had gone through her mind.
She slapped his hand away. "Legilimency?"
He smiled. "You could tell. No one ever usually notices."
She huffed again, dismissing the strange turn in the conversation. "That is so rude. If you mind, Riddle. We have work to do." She stared pointedly at the bubotubers. "And don't think I've forgotten about your malevolent little curse. That, for one, was not nice."
They at last returned to Professor Volanthen, the wheelbarrow leading them, filled to the brim with black squirming bubotubers. Volanthen stood at the edge of the Forest, his hands in his pockets. He examined the bubotubers and nodded. "That will do. Tomorrow, same time."
Hermione drew a hand over her brow, shakily, as she walked back up to the castle. She couldn't quite shake off that prickling feeling in the Forest, even when she climbed into bed later that night. To repeat it all again tomorrow … she would never ever break a rule again.
End Notes:
I had to re-write the dialogue a bit - still not quite satisfied but I am writing as way of directly procrastinating on my ongoing exams. So I don't have that much time to mull over it and try to get it right, unfortunately. Hopefully the dialogue is fine. I'm not sure, I can't tell anymore lol.
Next update should be next week.