Author's Note

I finally have a beta to catch my spelling and/or grammar errors. Thank you, hpfanfictionreader! You're wonderful :)

I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!

Any dialogue you recognize is from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, though most is changed at least a bit to fit this story. I'm not J.K. Rowling, so I don't own anything.

Ch 13: Rebellion

Hermione looked over the Marauder's Map again. She'd been searching for an opportunity since leaving Snape's office two days ago, and now finally appeared to be the time.

Initially, she'd planned to tell Harry and Ron outright what was happening at the castle, simply saying she'd overheard students talking, but she was worried Harry would overreact. His sudden urge to proceed with caution had already vanished in the wake of Ron's full recovery. So instead, she'd been waiting for someone like Ginny to be in the corridor outside the Room, when she could exit and "accidentally" get caught. It'd be less suspicious and might temper Harry's response.

Currently, Neville was one corridor away. It wasn't Ginny, but honestly, he was the next best thing. She had no doubt he was right in the thick of things – had been ever since the Department of Mysteries.

"These are useless!" she announced, slamming her tome shut and adding it to a rather large stack she'd been accumulating. "I'm going to return them and try to find a book that might provide something of actual value."

Hermione winced, wishing her acting skills were a bit less obvious, though she needn't have worried. Neither of the boys did more than glance up from the books she'd instructed them to search earlier. She had a feeling they were more zoned out than truly engrossed. History had never been either of their strengths.

This wasn't the first time she'd done something similar. The first morning, the boys had woken to her pouring over the books she'd gathered after her visit with Snape. She'd stopped by the library on her way back to have a cover in case either Harry or Ron had discovered her gone during her visit. They hadn't, but her nightmares had been severe enough that she'd given up on sleep rather quickly. When Ron's rumbling stomach woke him, she'd made the comment, "I wish someone here could bring us food. Didn't really think about that when I wanted us to come here."

Harry had replied, "I think Dobby is still –"

The elf had materialised as though just mentioning his name had summoned him. Probably could, given their inherent magic was geared towards service. Once he'd finished fawning over Harry, he'd readily agreed to drop food off for them while they were here, and then he'd gone again.

Hermione had been on pins and needles the whole time, just waiting for him to slip up and reveal something he shouldn't. But every time he looked at her, he'd squeak and jump and dart about the room. It left her feeling uneasy to know how anxious Dobby was about lying for her, but she consoled herself knowing he at least wasn't hurting himself as he had in the past.

Overall, Dobby's behaviour hadn't drawn more than a single remark from Ron, which had been, "That one is still the most barmy house-elf I've ever met."

Now it was time to test the next charade.

With a final glance at the map to ensure Neville was still alone and nearby, she hefted her enormous pile of books and headed for the door. Her struggle to open the door was genuine, weighed down as she was.

It was barely open when Harry called, "Hermione, you haven't got the cloak on!"

At once she dropped her burden, wincing and jumping for real at the loud crash that sounded when they tumbled to the floor, spilling into the hall. "Blast it!" she yelled. She'd barely bent to gather them up, nerves making her authentically clumsy and frantic, when Neville raced forward, staring open-mouthed at the door and the sight of Hermione Granger kneeling inside of Hogwarts.

Just as she'd hoped, the racket they'd made and her yell had alerted their friend and brought him racing around the corner towards their hiding spot.

"Hermione!" he gasped, slowing his approach as he asked, "Is that really you? What are you doing here?"

"Neville!" she squeaked, not feigning the high-pitched tremor that shook her cry. This had gone even better than she could have hoped.

"Neville?" Ron repeated, appearing beside her and reaching to clap their fellow house and year mate in a hug.

"Er, maybe we should continue this inside?" Harry ventured, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he glanced worriedly down the hall.

"Harry! You and Ron are here too?"

"Inside," Harry repeated. Quickly, the four hurried into the room, talking over one another as they did.

"What are you doing here?" Neville repeated anxiously, following it with more questions before they had a chance to answer. "Are you insane? Do you know who's running this place? What if you're caught?"

"How is everyone?" Ron asked, thrilled for news and a bit of fresh conversation. To be fair, they were all starved for the last. It might explain her consistent desire to seek out Snape, regardless of how much he'd made it clear she wasn't truly welcome in his space.

"How's Ginny?" That from Harry was nearly drowned out by Neville's final question.

"Did you really break into the Ministry to stop them from arresting Muggleborns?"

"Hold up!" Harry called, raising his voice and hands to silence everyone. "Neville, I promise we'll fill you in and answer all of your questions, but you first."

"Deal," he agreed readily.

"How have things been here?"

A look of unease flashed over his face. He briefly touched his faintly swollen eye before he reluctantly admitted, "It's been pretty bad, mate."

Hermione truly took him in then. His robes were a bit rumpled, but that wasn't all that unusual for Neville. He'd also grown taller and filled out over the summer, his features finally suiting him, though the kindness typically present in his eyes had dimmed noticeably. But he didn't look bumbling as he used to, or even confident with his maturing physique. No. He looked haggard and weary. A great weight perched precariously on his shoulders. Hermione recognized it because she'd seen Harry struggle with the same burden for years.

"What do you mean?" Ron prompted, exchanging a baffled look with the others.

"Lot of pressure to look after everyone and figure something out. But we've got to do something, can't just stand idly by," he said, more to himself. Neville shrugged then, plainly stating, "Not really like Hogwarts anymore, is it? Death Eaters treat us like we're mini Malfoys-in-training."

"Is that how you got the black eye?" Harry asked stiffly, pointing at the still relatively fresh, bluish-purple smudge under Neville's right eye.

"What? This?" he asked, again touching the puffy area. "Nah, mate. The male Carrow gave it to me when we threw a party to celebrate you standing up to the Ministry."

"You threw a party over us?" Ron straightened, ego inflating visibly. Hermione could well imagine that he was just itching to tell his version of events. It was Sirius Black with a knife all over again.

"'Course. Ginny and Luna helped organise it," he informed them proudly, grin stretching across his entire face.

"Are they all right?" Harry asked thickly, worry shadowing any lingering excitement from reuniting with an old friend.

"'Bout the same," he answered grimly.

"Carrow is a Death Eater," Hermione said tonelessly, recalling the name from the fight the previous year. The name Carrow had been mentioned in the hospital wing when Bill was being treated.

"Yeah. There's two of them teaching this year. Between the Slytherins and the Carrow siblings, I'm not sure which is worse. And they're everywhere," Neville relayed, dropping heavily into one of the plush seats provided by the Room.

"Wish we could just cast the lot of that house out," Ron grumbled, sitting as well.

The idea rankled Hermione. She pursed her lips, shaking her head. No. That wasn't the answer. "The school is split into four houses for a reason. Balance —"

"Yeah, one house is for all the bad witches and wizards," Ron interjected, and even Neville nodded at that, though Harry looked rather uneasy, eyes distant in turbulent contemplation.

"Not every Slytherin is evil, and not every Gryffindor is good. Something to keep in mind when you go lumping them all in as one," she argued, crossing her arms and glaring at Ron for his bull-headed outlook. So much for not arguing now that they'd settled on just remaining friends. At least the peace had lasted for more than a month.

But the topic of the House system had been weighing on her for the last couple days. Ever since Snape had made the comment about Kingsley being fair to the Slytherins when he'd been Head Boy. For some reason, she just couldn't let the matter go.

"Name one Slytherin that isn't evil to the core," Ron challenged.

Hermione concentrated on taking several even, deep breaths to prevent her from blurting Snape's name. Once she'd controlled the impulse, she triumphantly declared, "Regulus Black."

"Probably because he had Sirius's influence. They were brothers," Ron countered, equally victorious.

"Yes, because Percy is such an influence on your choices," she sneered, unconsciously mimicking Snape. "This prejudice is precisely–"

"Give it a rest, Hermione. No one asked for a bloody history lesson," Ron snapped, the tips of his ears turning red.

"Please. We have other issues to focus on right now," Harry requested, wincing sheepishly.

Silently, Hermione fumed. Ron only wanted to end the "conversation" because he knew he didn't have a leg to stand on. His points were feeble, and he knew it. And of course Harry took his side. He always did. But he also had a point. So Hermione grit her teeth and said nothing more on the subject.

For now.

"Speaking of lessons…," Neville said tentatively, clearly uncomfortable, but used to rows like that after witnessing them frequently over the last six years, "they're teaching us the Dark Arts here this year. We get punished when we refuse to try, but some of us never will."

"Punished?" Ron asked quickly, looking a bit green.

"Like I said, it's not Hogwarts anymore." A darker edge, sharper than the tip of a blade coloured the bleak statement.

"This is Snape's doing," Harry spat angrily, seizing on the opportunity to lay the blame at the feet of the man he believed helped murder his parents, and did personally murder his mentor.

Hermione inhaled sharply, knowing there was nothing she could say. It wasn't a fun position to be in.

"Actually, he's never really around," Neville said suddenly, brow creasing as he reflected on the year so far. "Though he did stop Crabbe from beating up a second year Hufflepuff yesterday."

"This is You-Know-Who, Harry. It all goes back to him," Hermione said gently, attempting to redirect her friend's fury to where it truly belonged.

"And those who follow him," Ron insisted stubbornly. His jaw set, but after a moment he voiced his reasoning, throwing out examples, each one landing like a physical blow. "He didn't attack Bill's wedding directly and kill Mad-Eye. He wasn't at the Ministry arresting Muggleborns. He isn't here hurting students."

The reminder of the Muggleborns at the Ministry hit with the force of a punch to the gut. Her stomach cramped unpleasantly. There were those like Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Dolores Umbridge, who were truly monsters – nearly as horrible as the master they willingly served.

It wasn't all right. None of it.

"We're not just sitting back and taking it. You'd be proud, Harry. A few of us are following the lead you set with Umbridge," Neville said animatedly, gesturing about as he filled them in.

"Maybe you shouldn't be making yourself a target," Harry suggested, appearing shocked that he was being used as the inspiration that had probably played a role in the black eye Neville now sported. Hermione watched as Harry clenched his fist, staring at the scars scrawled across the whitened skin.

"Are you kidding? You've never just rolled over. It's about time more people stood up and joined our side," Neville insisted, displaying a measure of his newfound grit.

"You want to fight back too, don't you?" Hermione asked quietly, staring at Harry knowingly.

"We have a few other things we need to be focused on," Harry said pointedly, glancing at the stack of books they'd abandoned by the door, but a wistful, longing note had underlain the reminder.

"Maybe we can do both," Hermione suggested, seizing on the opportunity. "You ran the D.A. before. Students still have classes, so starting it back up wouldn't take more than an hour or so a day. A regular daily break might be just the thing we need."

Harry had been in a funk since facing the Dumbledore figure from the locket. It had rocked his confidence. He'd been great at leading the D.A. Doing so again, seeing his classmates' admiration and faith in him might go a long way to restoring his belief in himself. She was also banking on it giving him a much needed physical outlet, so he'd be mentally useful in uncovering the Horcrux hiding spots.

"We need something to do between…the other stuff," Ron agreed eagerly, all for it and apparently ready to side with her on something again, their earlier spay forgotten in the excitement.

"I don't know…what if we're discovered again?"

"I doubt anyone would dare risk Hermione's punishment after they saw Marietta. She's still got the scars," Neville said, infusing the words with the verbal equivalence of a shutter. What did that mean? Neville had sounded almost…afraid – of her. He went on before Hermione could ponder it further, saying, "Besides, things are different now. Everyone has picked a side. Impossible not to with the truth constantly staring them in the face. There's no denying it anymore – not for any of us."

"That'll work once they've agreed to train here occasionally, but what if they find out and decide keeping our presence secret isn't worth the risk?" Hermione was relieved by the evidence that Harry hadn't completely abandoned his recent commitment to caution.

It prompted her to suggest, "I can create a similarly spelled document for them to sign before Neville brings them around to learn anything." Because he was correct. Things were more dangerous now than they'd been in fifth year. Secrecy was paramount.

"Trust me, that threat will work. You're terrifying when you want to be," Neville assured her, eyes round with sincerity.

Again with the fear. Harry had mentioned her being terrifying too. So had Ron for that matter.

Was having that sort of reputation necessarily a bad thing? If it protected them?

Pushing the debate from her mind, Hermione suggestively mused, "It might be inspiring to talk with some of the other houses, Ravenclaw for example."

"She's got a point, mate," Ron said, face alight with understanding.

They'd been focused on trying to figure out what artefact from Ravenclaw Voldemort might have used as a Horcrux. Who better to ask than members of that House? All the books they'd read insisted nothing remained, but Harry stubbornly refused to believe it.

"It'll really feel like we've got a chance if you're leading the rebellion," Neville said, a trace of hero-worship for Harry leaking in, oblivious to their ulterior motive.

Harry's resolve firmed, and he took in each of them, announcing, "Let's do it."

Over the next couple days, Neville slowly brought students from the former D.A. to the Room to see Harry for themselves and sign the newly completed nondisclosure agreement.

Very first had been Ginny, and they'd given her and Harry a few moments of relative privacy to reunite – even Ron. The youngest Weasley had looked Harry over, then taken his hand and sat beside him, not saying a word. That acceptance had unleashed a floodgate in Harry, and Hermione had watched from across the room as Harry spoke more to the redhead than Hermione could recall him saying in one go ever before.

Seeing the pair reminded Hermione of the promise she'd made to Ginny – that she'd do whatever it took to protect Harry. Her heart was pounding at a jagged gallop that was sawing through her chest as they set down this path. Yet it felt right all the same. Yes. This was the right move. It had to be.

While the two conversed, Ron, Hermione, and Neville had worked out logistics for how they'd proceed. Ultimately, it was decided that Neville, Ginny, and Luna would get final say on any new members before any big reveals took place since they knew the most about what was happening in the castle. From there, Harry would lead a Defensive Spell training session for two hours each night for any students interested or available so they didn't have to worry about an absence from practice being noticed. It helped that Harry didn't have to juggle his Quidditch and studies this time around. It was also probably good to keep him sharp, since he would eventually be expected to fight Voldemort and any number of Death Eaters.

It had taken five days to get enough people and organise the room properly to have the first lesson, which had just ended. Harry was flying high as their core group of six congregated afterwards to talk about it.

"Hermione's spells are working, so no one is talking about it, but I swear I can feel the change working its way through the castle. There's a new energy," Neville was claiming.

"He's right. You being here and doing this is making all the difference," Ginny agreed, beaming at Harry. He shone under her praise, beaming brighter than the sun at noon.

Beside her, Luna was laughing loudly at something Ron had just said, and he looked supremely satisfied about it.

Hermione should have felt right at home among her best mates, but something tugged at her. It'd been nearly a week since she checked in with Snape, D.A. preparations keeping her busy. She still had dozens of questions for him, but mostly, she was worried about how he was doing. The stories they'd heard from their former classmates had painted a pretty bleak picture.

Each story she heard fueled her anger, stoking the fires hotter. Hermione was furious that it was happening at all, and even more enraged by the helplessness she felt as a result.

Just thinking about it now was too much. She was restless, desperate for a distraction. Anything to take her mind off the impotence it left her with. She couldn't sit there simmering a moment longer or she'd burst.

Without a word, she stood, hoping her absence would go unnoticed. She had a couple books, Harry's Map and the cloak before anyone noticed her.

"Where are you going, Hermione? Sit, have a chat," Ron prodded, frowning at her.

"Can't. We've been rather preoccupied all week. Time to get back to it and establish a normal routine," she said meaningfully, lifting the books she held. They still had a mission to complete, and it wouldn't happen by itself.

Ron nodded faintly, then aloud, joked, "She just can't have any fun unless it involves a book."

Once, a comment like that would have had her up in arms, but there was something lighter to it now that hadn't been there before. When they'd bickered the day Neville first met up with them, she'd feared they'd lapse back into old habits, but apparently that episode had been a one off.

"At least I can read," she volleyed back, smiling slightly to convey she knew he was teasing and merely giving her an out. They'd decided against telling anyone else about the Horcruxes, even these three.

"Why do you think I've kept you around all these years? Mum would have murdered me if I'd have gotten as few O.W.L.s as the twins."

"And yet you've earned precisely the same number of N.E.W.T.s," she quipped, then immediately regretted the jest. The twins hadn't finished their education, and now, neither had she. So much for the perfect academics she'd so long striven for. Biting back the sting that knowledge caused and the deep longing, she warned, "Be careful getting back to your dorms. It's nearly curfew."

The trek to the office was uneventful, the corridors quiet as a crypt, though a few portraits seemed more lively than usual, the subjects moving about restlessly.

Snape all but ignored Hermione when she entered his office. The only sign he gave that he was even aware of her presence was a momentary pause in his writing. He didn't glance up from the parchment on his desk. He didn't greet her verbally. She hesitated, wondering if she was intruding, but quickly recovered herself and took a seat at the table she'd used previously. If he didn't want her there, he wouldn't be shy about letting her know. Mincing words was one thing Snape could never be accused of.

Nearly an hour passed as they worked companionably, each having plenty to keep them occupied. So she was startled when Snape finally spoke, breaking the silence with the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

"When I suggested you prepare the students, perhaps provide a bit of guidance and support, I did not think you would immediately go and make my job more difficult," Snape began stiffly, displeasure and annoyance warring in his tone.

Hermione was at a loss. As far as she knew, things were proceeding slowly and quietly with the reestablishment of the D.A. It wasn't as though she was truly in a position to know everything, hiding as she was.

Yet Snape was now watching her expectantly, dark strands of hair falling forward to conceal most of his face. All except his eyes. That obsidian gaze was sharply pinned on her like the arrowheads the volcanic glass was often used to create. "What's happened?"

"Did you not see the graffiti on the second floor today? It appeared just after the last class of the day."

"I haven't been down that way recently. I came straight here," she admitted, internally wincing when Snape predictably glanced at the two books she'd brought with her.

The library was on the second floor. So she'd basically just declared that she'd rather read in here with him than she would spend time with her friends in the Room of Requirement, since she'd clearly just left there and come straight here. Which wasn't necessarily true. It just wasn't untrue either.

"It's an advertisement for your club. 'D.A., Still Recruiting.'"

"Oh!" she gasped, never having expected anything so blatant to be advertised. Her spells were meant to prevent anything like this. She'd been certain she'd impressed upon everyone how vital and paramount secrecy was. For someone to just put it out there like that….

What would this mean going forward? Should they leave? Was Harry in danger? Or could this possibly be a good thing…inspiring more to join the resistance and fight —

"Yes. Oh. It was Miss Weasley," he continued, each word crisp and curt.

Of course. Only the three doing the recruiting were excused from her spells since they needed to be able to attract more members. Blast Ginny! Hermione knew she'd not intentionally done it to endanger Harry. She'd probably gotten caught up in the excitement Neville was boasting about earlier – trying to be like Harry and inspire hope.

That did nothing to mitigate the current situation.

Displeasure formed a shroud around Snape, and she wondered if the reason he'd not spoken sooner was because he was too busy seething. It was too much to hope that he'd been trying to reign it in rather than take his temper out on her. "She was seen and reported."

Ginny hadn't said a word when she'd joined them for the D.A. meeting. No one else had either. Of course, they'd met directly after classes, so many probably hadn't seen the bold message yet. She'd probably come straight from writing it. No wonder she seemed intent on lingering in the Room all night – she was avoiding the staff, and rightly so.

"What are you going to do?" Hermione asked, dreading the answer.

"What do you think?" he grated, a muscle ticking in his clenched jaw. Hermione understood. His hand was being forced. Again. The very thing he most hated – having his decisions stripped from him and being forced to do awful acts. "It's been too well publicised. She'll have to serve a detention."

"Will you determine the detention?" she asked bleakly, hoping, likely in vain, that part of his anger stemmed from having to save her and her friends yet again.

"Amycus has already claimed that honour," he warned.

Hermione had begun hearing the stories. Amycus enjoyed the Cruciatus in particular. Would it be even worse though, considering Ginny was both a blood-traitor and Harry's "ex-girlfriend"?

Again, her fury at their new reality threatened to consume her, sucking at her feet as though attempting to pull her into a black hole or bury her alive. There had to be something she could do. This was precisely why they'd reestablished the D.A. They were meant to fight back.

Except….

Except, what would happen if they did before all the pieces were in place?

Difficult as it was, she had to be rational. She had to wait.

"Snape," Hermione said weakly, desperately wishing to ask him to intercede or at least protect Ginny. But there was no need. She already knew he would do what he could. Just as he always had.

"Leniency will raise suspicions," he warned, making Hermione swallow. Ginny would be hurt, but Snape would not let Carrow take it too far.

Snape tensed, bracing himself for the condemnation he no doubt expected her to heap on him, as others always seemed to, but she couldn't. He was in an impossible position and doing the best he could. It wasn't his fault Ginny had done something so reckless. Nor was it his fault she'd been caught.

"Now that the school will be aware that the D.A. is running again, do you have any suggestions on maintaining secrecy? There are already thirty people involved, and more will probably want to join, if not immediately, then at some point this year," Hermione said, letting the matter of Ginny's upcoming punishment drop.

Snape exhaled loudly, visibly relaxing. Had he been even more worried about her reaction than she'd realised? It certainly appeared that way.

"Be careful about who you trust to know anything at all. Make use of the natural protections the Room provides. Be specific in your requests for what it can do for you, such as the door only revealing itself if there are fewer than three individuals in the hallway then immediately disappear once those entering are inside. The coins you used before might be beneficial as well to signal members. Station several students as lookouts whenever possible," he listed quickly, demonstrating a knack for this sort of thing.

Hermione suddenly recalled Malfoy doing something similar the year before with Crabbe and Goyle serving as his sentries. She should brew more Polyjuice Potion.

"Students have to sign a pledge before hearing anything Neville, Ginny, or Luna have to say. There's a Tongue Gag Jinx to prevent them from repeating anything they hear, and a Disspelling Curse to keep them from writing about it. I got the idea from one of the Weasley twins' trick quills. It jumbles the letters into nonsense. It should last at least a year.

"Once students actually come to the Room of Requirement and discover Harry is here, they have to sign a different agreement that I spelled. It's like the one we used last time, only…I used a different spell," she explained in a rush, glossing over the last bit.

Part of her still couldn't believe the spell she'd decided on.

A thousand cuts. One single slice delivered daily. Nothing major, and magic could heal them, but the person would be reminded of their betrayal regularly for years.

It'd been in one of the new Defence Against the Dark Arts textbooks. Well, new Darks Arts books, anyway. Neville had left it in the room and she'd been idly flipping through it when she'd settled on using the spell. She'd understood immediately after casting it that she shouldn't have. The energy and focus she'd poured into the spell probably wasn't enough to produce more than the equivalent of paper cuts, which some might see as less gruesome than the permanent, disfiguring SNEAK scars, but she'd felt it. The sense of control and power that went with the spell. It'd been a mistake. One that left her feeling adrift and ashamed. So much so, she didn't even want to tell Snape – probably the one person guaranteed not to judge.

Still, he appraised her assessingly, reading into what she didn't say. His lips pursed tightly, nearly disappearing as he likely suspected the truth, but he didn't say a word.

His silent acceptance prompted her to relay another troublesome issue that'd been weighing on her. "I think knowing I Charmed the parchment will be enough to prevent any betrayals this time. A few people have admitted that I am rather…scary."

"Fear can be a powerful influencer," Snape said wisely, nodding familiarly. "It's certainly worked wonders for me over the years."

It was true. Snape maintained order in the classroom through intimidation and dread of his wrath. But fear reminded Hermione of the likes of Umbridge and Voldemort. She did not want to be comparable.

"Yes, well, as I said, that part is taken care of. But I'm also concerned that only three of the four houses are included in the Room of Requirement," Hermione admitted frankly, wondering if he'd be as dismissive and argumentative as Ron had. Would Snape sneer at her and believe her concerns ridiculous and unfounded?

"Worried some of the Slytherins are being targeted and are unable to help themselves?" he prodded, grinning slyly, likely enjoying the knowledge that should someone underestimate his House in such a way, it would be to their detriment. Snape might be on the right side of this war, but he still displayed a tremendous amount of House pride and loyalty.

"Not so much," she said dryly, snorting at the very idea of that happening. Snakes were shockingly adept at wriggling free from sticky situations.

"Then what has you gearing up to take on a new lost cause?" he inquired, sounding genuinely curious.

Hermione ignored the crack about her championing underdogs, and asked, "Each House glorifies specific traits and talents, correct?"

"Indeed," he drawled, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms as he waited to see where she was going with her line of thinking.

"All four houses are needed to truly be balanced. If we'd not allowed the divide to grow so distinct in the past, perhaps this wouldn't be happening today," Hermione insisted, imagining a different present if the Slytherins weren't treated like the enemy from day one. Perhaps if they'd not grown up isolated, and had friendships outside their House, they'd be less likely to attack and harm those individuals now.

"Oh please, you sound like Dumbledore…always insisting love is the answer," Snape pointed out, adding, "it's much more complicated than that."

She looked over to see if the man in question had anything to add, only to discover he wasn't there. In fact, every canvas in the entire room was empty. What in Merlin's name? There hadn't been many around the last time she entered the office, but Hermione didn't think they'd ever all been gone at once before.

As much as she longed to ask about the former Heads, she was too invested in continuing the current debate.

"There is a justification behind his worrying and conviction," Hermione retorted stubbornly.

"Shall I extend an invitation to Crabbe on your behalf? Last I saw him, he was overseeing the detention for three second year Hufflepuffs," Snape countered, referencing the incident Neville had told them about previously.

"Not every Slytherin is evil." She stared pointedly at Snape as she made the declaration, believing wholeheartedly that he was good. From their recent interactions, and what she knew he was being forced to allow, she had the impression he was beginning to doubt himself.

"We are all capable of it," he said quietly.

This was what had been missing when she'd tried to broach the subject before. Conversation. Ron had been completely unwilling to listen or discuss the matter, his prejudices too firmly in place. Snape, on the other hand, withheld judgement as he gathered additional information. He formed an initial opinion, but he was reasonable enough to be able to modify his beliefs when presented with enough evidence.

Wanting to ensure he wasn't just referring to Slytherins with his last statement, her use of the cutting spell foremost in her mind, she said, "The same holds true for every member of every House. Look at Wormtail, he—"

"Do not speak of that vermin!" Snape hissed, lips curling back dangerously.

"Sorry!" she gasped, stunned by his outburst and frothing rage. He'd not even loathed Sirius to this degree. Apparently Wormtail had wronged him even more in some way.

All right, so Snape was reasonable and willing to change his mind about everything except the Marauders and Harry.

"Snape, I —"

"Sixth floor. Near the painting of the forest nymphs," a wizened old man huffed, bounding into view in the frame nearest the corner of the room. His face was red from exertion, and he slumped heavily against the edge of the painting.

"Excuse me," Snape said abruptly, rising quickly and rushing out of the room.

Hermione stared after him, blinking in confusion as she tried to process what had just occurred.