A/N: Chapter 3: Whee!
Beta Love: The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, Flyby Commander Shepard
Chapter 3: Snakes and Ladders
Life's full of tricky snakes and ladders. Morrissey
Severus frowned, feeling a twinge of something run up his arm. He would have said it felt like a snake moving up his skin, but he knew what that actually felt like. It had become— strangely comforting. If ever there was rule on dangerous vipers being comforting, well, he was breaking all the rules anyway. He pulled up his sleeve, his fingers working on the buttons faster than usual, and stared at his skin.
The Dark Mark was returning.
Severus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He'd known it was going to happen. It was just the how he wasn't sure of. Even Albus with all his annoying habits, had known the Dark Lord had only vanquished himself temporarily. How he'd known, though, remained a mystery. Even the other Death Eaters had believed the Dark Lord to be well and truly gone— all save Bellatrix.
And Bellatrix was a different sort of crazy. Bellatrix would have ended up in Azkaban long before, had the Dark Lord not been there to yank her leash. The other Death Eaters despised her and her grovelling at the Dark Lord's feet. Even Rodolphus— well, he took out his hatred for his wife by torturing Muggles instead. It was well known that Bellatrix would not even lay with him to conceive an heir, and that was something pureblood supposed did agree about. Heirs were everything. Otherwise the bloodline didn't go on.
Rumour had it that she and Voldemort shared beds back before she was actually married, but he didn't believe it. Voldemort showed no sign of wanting sexual gratification of any kind. Of course, rumour also said that Bellatrix has his child and she served it up as a sacrifice to her Lord— literally.
The thing was with Bellatrix, no one knew what was really true because she was so far gone down the crazy train.
He covered his arm once more, wishing like so many other times that his youth had gone a different way. But Lily had put her faith in her Gryffindor friends, believing that at least they weren't Death Eaters. And then Pettigrew had proved them wrong. Black rotted in Azkaban after that murderous revelation— and for once, Severus was glad it was Black that took care of it. It put him in Azkaban where he belonged, even if it for the wrong reason, if the belief of his innocence was to be believed.
He heard Hermione rustling around in her adjoining chambers just as a certain tabby trotted out Hermione's door, rubbed against his leg, and out his door, not even bothering to pretend to open it with her paws.
Damnable felines.
They could just trounce all over his wards like they weren't there. Mind you, Minerva was one of the few people he actually trusted to his wards when even Albus was locked out.
Minerva cared.
That was the difference, all the difference.
Minerva had been the one to nurse him back to life after he'd made his first really big and really stupid decision: the Dark Mark.
She hadn't said it, but he knew that she knew he wasn't supposed to survive the Dark Mark. That he did made him more interesting to the Dark Lord. He knew Bellatrix was hoping he'd just die while taking it, but he'd been too stubborn to do that, at least in front of her.
He was quite ready to curl up and die privately before Minerva had found in the mud next to the rose bushes, dragged him up to her quarters, and tended him, not even telling Poppy his ultimate secret and greatest shame.
Albus knew, of course, but for different reasons.
To this day, Severus found himself taking out his frustrations on the poor rosebushes, as if their very presence hadn't helped him when he needed it.
Even taking the Mark hadn't brought about his Change, though. No, that had been Potter and Black, ripping open his sleeve and showing Lily that he could never be trusted as they tried to "relieve him" of the Mark. The agony of taking Mark had been nothing to having someone try to remove it, and he had a feeling that was intentional. He'd come into his true inheritance—
And Lily's look of horror told him that there would never be forgiveness.
His almost murdering Potter and Black in his post-transformative throes, however, hadn't helped her opinion of him.
He would always be a Dark wizard.
A murderer.
Moody had come with a squad of Aurors, hitting with about a hundred some stunners before dragging him off—
He'd awoken in a holding cell at the DMLE with a headache of the likes he'd never had before, and Amelia Bones sitting on a bench nearby— offering him a job.
The rest, as they say, was history. The groveling to Albus, the agent to the Dark Lord, all of that was really one more story. His real boss had always been Amelia, and she ran a tight ship. And, unlike either the Dark Lord or Albus, she trusted him to do his job and she was there if he needed her. That is what kept him sane in a situation that would have broken many others.
That and sheer spite to live despite the odds.
Hermione shuffled in from the door that connected her chambers to his. She smacked her lips groggily as she dragged her feet sleepily. The scent of mint told him she'd already done her morning hygiene routine, but she still wasn't very peppy— not that he wanted peppy so early in the morning. He watched her in silence, watching how she and her serpents made the tea, from sniffing the containers using the scenting with her tongue to the more human nose. Learning what scent was which was her first task as her apprentice along with lab safety, but she was able to scent even how old a certain jar was by the scent of what lay within. It was more than most could do. He could, but he wondered if that was because of his being Mythborn— even from the start.
Chicka, the strike-happy boomslang, stuck her head deep into the tea tin, causing Hermione to admonish her for getting "serpent stuff" into the tea. The other serpents pegged her on the face, driving her out, and Hermione scooped that part of the tea into "her" teapot and used "clean tea" into "his." The tea mix she made seemed perfect, just the way he liked it, and apparently she liked what he did, except for one added bit of fruit in it.
Severus, personally, didn't mind a little serpent drool in his tea. He'd heard there were places in the world that paid extra for that sort of thing. Exotic teas, they called them. They could make a business out of that, if they so chose. She'd never have to worry about having a roof over her head the rest of her life. He liked that idea. She, of all people, deserved to have a safe place to sun on a rock, or whatever it was she wanted to do— free of people who couldn't or wouldn't understand her. After all she'd been through, she still thought well of people for the most part.
Gryffindor House was starting to— perturb her.
Penny the copperhead was carrying the sugar cubes sack as Ash the black mamba poured the hot water over the leaves. Nag and Nagaina set the teapots on the table as Dundee slipped the tea cosies over each pot. Hermione, in the meantime, set out the cereal and milk.
Both of them had been used to life without House Elves, so setting stuff out for themselves was hardly a chore. Hermione, of course, didn't want to petrify the Hogwarts staff, which was admirable in its own way. There were times Severus wondered if petrifying the whole staff would make things far less stressful— if a bit dull.
Peaceful, but dull.
All and all, not even one year in, he and his new apprentice were getting along far better than he'd expected it to go. She had learned he wasn't the heartless prick everyone thought he was, and he had learned she wasn't the handwaving know-it-all swot with no common sense that everyone thought she was.
Draco, who had truly proven that all he really needed was a real friend who wasn't afraid to tell him that his shit stank, had actually shown quite a bit more level-headedness now that Hermione was on the "right side of the fence."
Before, he would go around sticking his hands into things he shouldn't, driving Lucius mad with all the things he had to keep from literally grabbing him by the face and shaking him— a Hand of Glory, for instance. Thanks to Hermione, Draco was learning to listen more before doing something unseemly or downright stupid.
Draco, Severus knew, wasn't a complete imbecile, but he did have quite a bit of entitlement to get over or, as Hermione put it, "get over yourself, you're not Merlin's gift to planet Earth." Oddly, that only seemed to make Draco think Hermione was better because she had a spine, unlike some Slytherin whose bravery lasted as long as no one was around.
Severus was of the belief that bravery only got you so far before you ended up dead. Self-preservation tempered bravery so you not only lived to see the next day, but it also made you wise not to stand up and announce "here I am, shoot me with a Adavra to the face!"
She would be that balance if Severus had anything to say about it.
"Morning, Socrates," Hermione greeted sleepily, hugging the basilisk's head and pressing her face to his. "How are you this morning?"
The basilisk yawned, showing all of his rows of teeth. Hermione pulled out one of the bundles in the nearby trunk, tapped it with her wand, and then practically fell over as it enlarged into a giant hog carcass.
"Oof!" she said. "Remind me to do that after I set it down next time."
Socrates nuzzled her with his head and wrapped his jaws around his breakfast, slithering off to enjoy his meal in peace.
Over a hundred feral hogs filled the trunk, and that didn't include the half they had gifted the centaurs. There were, of course, the statuary hogs as well, which now decorated the boundaries of the centaur lands like stoic porcine threats. The centaurs, of course, were ecstatic that their winter larder was already taken care of so quickly, and were equally grateful that they had food to spare after the hogs had eaten and trampled their crops. Peace forged between centaur and he and his apprentice, sending her out for potion ingredients would no longer be a concern. Magorian promised to watch over her when she went looking for potion reagents, and Severus knew the centaur were creatures of their word. They also weren't helpless by any means, and that was something most people neglected to realise.
Despite what the Ministry classified them, they were not beasts. They were sentient as much as a man, with a strong sense of culture. They also had a more ingrained respect for Mythborn due to their own mythical origins as a people. It was something the Wizarding world liked to forget.
"Oh!" Hermione said, startled. "Good morning, Master. Breakfast is ready!"
"You are my apprentice, but you did not have to make me breakfast, Miss Granger, " Severus reminded her.
"That's okay, I like making breakfast," Hermione answered. "It's a lot like Potions, but with tastier results."
Severus' lips quirked upward. "I suppose you are correct."
Hermione beamed and sat down. She bowed her head respectfully and all her headserpents bowed theirs too.
Goddess Athena,
From whom blessings are sent.
We thank you for the food
And what it represents.
Guide my day
And my mind inspire,
That I may do
What you require.
Hermione perked, more alert, and all her headsnakes wobbled with excitement as she gave them each a tasty sausage.
"Interesting prayer," Severus said, having not hear her say it before.
"Firenze taught it to me," Hermione replied. "He said Athena was once so angry with Poseidon for forcing himself on her priestess, that she turned Medusa into a gorgon, that no man or god would ever be able to force themselves upon her again. He taught me the prayer because he said it is good to honour your origins and thank them for their gifts as well as respect them as the gifts they are. I'll admit though— the story I heard of Medusa wasn't quite so kind about it. Daddy used to say—" Hermione frowned, her head serpents drooping. "He used to say that Athena was so angry that she punished Medusa because she couldn't punish another god."
Severus was thoughtful. "Many stories are told in the perspective of the people who tell them. Most humans, even magical ones, cannot imagine how becoming a gorgon could be considered a gift. That are you willing to change your opinion and see it as such says much about your strength of character."
Hermione perked, her head serpents opening their mouths with a serpentine grin on each of them. "Thank you, Master," she said, digging into her food.
They ate in silence, but it was not an awkward one. Severus watched Hermione hold out a glass of water for her headserpents to drink from, each taking turns to lap at the water with their forked tongues. Hermione was, he thought to himself, a rare gem of humanity— made even more spectacular by the fact that she wasn't even human anymore.
Once, Severus thought to himself, Lily Evans had been everything good in the world to him. He'd believed she saw the best in everyone. In time he had been proven wrong, but this time— this time he knew he was right.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
Neville whirled around. "Whu— what?"
Hermione stepped out into the moonlight. Casually, she sat down on the very edge of the Astronomy Tower railing as if she hadn't even noticed Neville anxiously wringing his hands and looking like he very much wanted to throw himself off it.
"I'm just saying," Hermione said. "Tonight is a horrible time to see if you'll suddenly sprout wings. There's not even a decent updraft." She stared off across the Black Lake, her hair rustling in the night air.
"I just can't take it anymore!" Neville yelled at her. "Now that they can't take it out on you, they've gone right back to blaming me for everything. Every single lost point for Gryffindor is somehow my fault."
"So, you're blaming me too, just like everyone else," Hermione said, her voice sad. One "strand of hair" seemed to track Neville's movements with nothing less than ire, but Hermione took her hand and tucked it back into the rest of her hair.
"It is your fault!" Neville yelled, but then he closed his eyes and dropped heavily into a sitting slump with his arms wrapped tightly around his knees.
"I think that you are perfectly capable of making up your own mind instead of letting them dictate to you what you should think," Hermione said. "What's going along with the rest of Gryffindor gotten you so far? Torment? Blame? The idea that throwing yourself off the Astronomy Tower is somehow going to help? Sounds like they aren't helping you at all. And what then? Throw yourself off. Who do they victimise next? When you are gone, are they going to pick on little Haley? The only one that had the brass to stand up to people who were years ahead of her?"
Neville's eyes filled with horror at the idea that it wouldn't end along with him.
"Maybe being Gryffindor is about standing up for what you believe in, instead of just going what others believe in. That's the difference between being a lion instead of a sheep that just follows along with the rest of the herd," Hermione said. "Sure, they are showing their daring and nerve alright, but they aren't truly brave. They are only as brave as long as they are surrounded with people just like themselves. A mob. And chivalrous? Hah. Neville, the fact is, most bullies are nothing but cowards who feel the need to put others down to make themselves feel stronger than they really are. Instead of asking yourself what you did wrong, ask yourself why they are so jealous of you."
"What good is knowing you're better at something if they still bring you down?" Neville yelled.
Hermione, all too used to being lashed out at, said nothing, and simply sat watching the waves out over the lake.
"Does lashing out at me make you feel better?"
"Loads," Neville retorted.
"By all means, then, do continue," Hermione said. A strand of her hair seemed to slither outward and take a lunge for Neville's face, but Hermione tucked it away with one hand, petting it down like it was a living thing.
"You're always right there. Thinking you're always right. Just because you read it in a book. Just because you read everything before the rest of us. Have to do it like this. The book says we have to do it like this. The book says that. We're not all books for you to read!"
"Neville, let me ask you something," Hermione said. "What do you think is the opposite of courage?"
"Being yellow. A coward," Neville spat.
"I think that the opposite of courage is conformity," Hermione said. "Why don't you stop trying to be what everyone else wants or what you THINK everyone else wants you to be? Instead, why don't you decide to be what Neville Longbottom wants to be? I think it takes real courage to be your own person instead of letting others tell you what you are or what you should be. I have a feeling that Godric Gryffindor himself would agree with that, don't you?"
Hermione stared off across the school grounds. "You know, I used to think all I ever really wanted was to make my mum and dad proud."
"YOU AT LEAST HAVE PARENTS WHO LOVE YOU!" Neville raged, tears pouring down his throat. "Mine are locked up in a hospital! Trapped in their own minds! They might as well be dead!"
"I thought I did," Hermione said quietly. "But after the accident, they told Dumbledore they didn't want me anymore. All my letters returned. All my memories, ash."
"They just dumped you? Why? It was just a potion explosion! Seamus and Lavender got it much worse. They were petrified! Madam Pomfrey had to get Snape to make mandrake potion to undo it! So what? You get burned or something? Is that why you have to wear that mask? Your parents just gave you up because they couldn't stand that their baby wasn't perfect anymore?"
Hermione sighed, running a hand through her hair. "It's a bit more complicated than that, Neville."
"How? How can a prissy little girl who found out she had superficial parents possible understand losing your parents who would have loved you no matter what! Who would have given a boy a wand of his own instead a hand-me-down. Who understood him. Who loved him and didn't try to make him into something he wasn't! M—maybe you just didn't work hard enough! Love them enough! Well I'm telling you that if I had parents that could, I would love them so much they would never want to let me go!" Neville's face was streaked with tears.
Hermione said nothing.
"You won't even say anything, will you? You're just like all the other Slytherins. Twisting things so it's all about you."
Hermione stiffened.
"Got it right, didn't I? You think you can identify with me? Well you can't! Maybe if I push you off, people will treat me with respect!"
"Mr Longbottom, you are now in detention with Professor McGonagall, and she will decide what is the most appropriate punishment for you so there are no— assumptions with regard to my impartiality." Snape's voice was like arctic ice. "Make no mistake, if you were under my care, there would be hell to pay, and do not dare to think that I missed the part where you threatened to push my apprentice off the Astronomy Tower. You will report to the Deputy Headmistress immediately, and you will not stop at any point along the way."
Snape stared down his nose at Neville, his fathomless black eyes seemingly like endless black holes. "She made me promise not to take points from you as she attempted to talk you down, and that is the only reason Gryffindor is not losing fifty points for your threat against her life. There will be no next time. Now get out of my sight."
Snape glowered darkly as Neville scampered down the stairs and away, not even stopping as he ran all the way back to the main path into Hogwarts.
Snape's lips curled back from his teeth in a grimace, but his face softened as he saw Hermione's shoulders quaking. Her small sniffles were muffled slightly by her sleeve.
"Miss Granger," Snape said, his voice growing softer.
Hermione turned to look at him, tears on her face. She ran towards him and buried her face against his row of antique silver buttons, sobbing. "Why did he have to say that? I was just trying to help!"
Severus' hand gently soothed her snakes and she immediately seemed to calm, hugging him tighter. "Sometimes, people in pain say terrible things, Miss Granger. Terrible things they do not really mean as they think that no one could possibly understand their pain. It does not make what he threatened right, and you should not blame yourself for it."
"He was going to kill himself," Hermione said with a sniff. "I didn't want him to think he was all alone."
"Sometimes you have to be alone in order to appreciate when you are not." Snape brushed her tears away and soothed her snakes tenderly. "I have already sent word to Minerva. Hopefully she can get through to him and put an end to the more vicious bullying. While I am not so foolish as to think it will go away completely, he must learn to stand up for himself for it to get better, as his type of bullying is due far more to his lack of confidence while yours was because of your greater amount of it."
Hermione fingered some of his buttons with her finger, feeling the engravings on them. "I'm guessing a hug from you isn't going to solve Neville's problems like they do me, either."
Snape sighed, shaking his head. "I think the last thing Mr Longbottom needs now is anything to do with me."
"Or me."
"For now."
Hermione looked up at him. "You think he'll get over it?"
"I think he needs help. Help we cannot give him. He needs help from a peer, someone he respects, and that is something neither of can be."
Hermione slumped, her snakes drooping.
"I think you need to think of something else instead of worrying about Mr Longbottom. Let Her Tabbiness work her magic as she does so well." Hermione sniffed and looked out over the grounds. "What do you recommend, Master?"
Snape let out his breath slowly. "I suppose it is time you saw why the Headmaster thought I would understand your plight better than someone else."
Hermione's eyes widened, all of her serpents perking.
Snape shook his head at her. "Come. We're going to need more room."
Hermione tried to contain her excitement, but she was practically vibrating with eagerness to see what had remained a mystery. People had spoken of her master's being Mythborn, but no one had told her what he was. Whatever it was was immune to petrification, but as to what that could be made her sift through many different what-ifs.
Cockatrice?
Was there a male Gorgon? No, then he'd be wearing a mask too.
Basilisk? No. Socrates would have sniffed that out.
What was he?
She wanted to know!
She had to know!
Yet, he stood silently on the bank of Black Lake, staring over the waters as if contemplating life's meanings.
"The first time I took this form, I had been tortured," Severus said quietly. My 'gift' came to me at the hands of bullies who had not relented in all the years I had been at school. I changed. They called the Aurors on me. Hit me with about a hundred stunners to the face. I went down seeing my best friend of childhood calling me a monster. I woke up in the holding cells at the DMLE with Amelia Bones sitting next to me. She offered me a job. She wasn't afraid. It was only later that I realised I was but one of many. That Mythborn were not just legend. They were real. I was one."
"Your friend— thought you were a monster?"
"She thought I was a monster long before she actually saw the change. The change only proved it, as far as she was concerned."
Hermione looked into her reflection in the water. "People treated me like a monster long before I had scales."
"It is in the nature of people to fear what they do not understand and to think that which is fear invoking is a monster." Snape closed his eyes, held out his arms as if to catch himself in freefall, and let the change take him.
The blackness of his robes seemed to expand and flow, his shape jerking and filling in, moving, and thrashing. There was a low, rolling growl that shook the very earth. Coils overlapped coils that overlapped even more coils. Scales the size of shields moved past her. Huge fins, wings, or some combination of both rose up above her as the head of great sea serpent looked down upon her— a head that was all wickedly sharp teeth and snarl, enormous glowing seawater-coloured eyes, and a crest of coral-like mane in iridescent obsidian. His tail swished in the air, seemingly woven together of seaweed as dark as the rest of him.
"Sssssssss," the giant serpent said, his fins moved like wings, rippling down his massive body.
"Drakones Troiades," Hermione whispered, looking up at her master with awe. "You were the chosen of Athena too."
He lowered her head to nose her gently, the wind from his nostrils tossing her serpentine hair.
Hermione's expression became ecstatic, and she threw her arms around his muzzle as best she could, burying her face against his scales and whiskers. "We're not alone anymore," she sniffled into his scales, radiating a sort of joyful happiness and a relief that was beyond words.
"Get on," Severus rumbled, his whiskers wriggling against her face.
Hermione gasped as she realised she could understand him.
"Foolish girl," Snape admonished. "Of course you can. I too, am a serpent."
Hermione didn't let that deter her. Her smile was genuine and happy.
He lowered her head down so she could climb behind his crown of coral, and she grasped onto a few to steady herself.
Snape launched himself into the air and then skimmed the surface of the Black Lake at high speed, his fin-wings adjusting to the wind and water. Water whooshed out from under his wake as Hermione squealed in joy as the water washed over her and the air blew it away. Her snakes had all of their mouths open, perhaps to feel the wind, their eyes glowing with their enjoyment. Even Socrates, his body spiraled around Hermione's neck as an anchor, spread his mouth wide to enjoy the feel of the wind and the water.
As the moon rose high in the night sky, there was only the rush of the waves and wind and the gleeful cries of young Gorgon forgetting all her troubles for the night.
"Very well, Minerva," Albus said with a nod and a sigh. "We do need to take care of this, if anything to guarantee that Mr Longbottom does not resort anything more rash than he already has tonight. He is obviously has been undergoing considerable stress far beyond what is normal for attending a boarding school."
"I have already spoken to the twins, and they have agreed to my proposal," Minerva said. "Their goodwill gives Gryffindor back some points, and between the other professors, we will keep a closer eye on Mr Longbottom as well. I've arranged for them to have a shared dorm room instead of the normally age-restricted rooms."
Albus nodded. "Good. We don't want a repeat of what happened the other night. And Miss Granger? Is she alright?"
Minerva nodded. "Severus says she is fine. She is much more resilient now that she has a safe place to retreat to and friends who are willing to be with her."
Albus nodded again. "Good, good." He stroked his beard. "I had hoped that the removal of Miss Granger from Gryffindor would curb much of the problem, but it seems Gryffindor has become far more apt to blame others than to stand up for themselves. It is a lesson they all need to learn soon. We can't have this school's students tearing each other apart. Rivalry is only natural, but I learned in dismissing the Marauder's actions so long ago that it only made the situation grow even worse."
Minerva crossed her arms, remembering. "We both know that being Gryffindor does not necessarily make you altruistic, Albus."
Albus sighed. "I know, Minerva. It's obvious that the negative trend in points is not providing the proper inspiration to behave better, so do what you need to to ensure something does. Let me know if there is anything further you require on my part."
"It would help, perhaps, if you made a little speech, Albus," Minerva said. "Tell the children about the Founders and how bullying others is cowardly. Let them know they are being watched. More than usual."
Dumbledore rubbed his chin. "Very well. I will take care of it tomorrow morning at breakfast."
"Thank you, Albus."
With that, Minerva turned and walked out, the swish of her velvet robes marking her exit.
"Warrrrrrrfftz!" Fawkes burbled from his perch.
Dumbledore eyed the phoenix. "Whatever are you trying to say, Fawkes?"
"FFzzzbbt!" the phoenix replied.
Albus sighed. "You really need to stop listening to dead space on the wireless, old friend." He peered at his familiar. "And you really need to get on with the burning day, love. You look perfectly dreadful."
Fawkes turned his head away. "Brrggsssttfffaattttfff."
Albus held up his hand. "Fine, fine, but I'm not the one molting and looking half starkers."
Black eyes glared a hole into the back of Albus' head.
"You can stop giving me the death glare, Fawkes. You're so touchy when you're about to burn."
Hermione opened her eyes to find herself with a brightly coloured fluff ball nestled next to her face. "Muh?" she mumbled.
Her headsnakes drowsily looked around, tongues flicking.
Two beady black eyes stared at her straight to the face, and Hermione's eyes widened as she realised her mask wasn't on.
"W— where did you come from? Are you a Fire Quail?" Hermione sat up, waking Socrates, who lifted his head blearily.
The fluff ball stared at her.
"That's a phoenix chick, or a phoenix that just Burned," Socrates said. "It's so hard to tell with phoenixes."
The chick had a crest of crown-like feathers on his head, and they rose up as the chick walked up Hermione's arm and settled on her shoulder.
Her headsnakes inspected the interloper, poking it with their noses, but the chick yawned and closed his eyes.
Hermione rubbed her head, jostling her snakes. "Uh… doesn't Headmaster Dumbledore have a phoenix?"
Her headsnakes seemed to shrug.
"Erm, hi," Hermione said to the chick. "I'm Hermione."
The chick warbled. "I'm Fawkes."
Hermione blinked. "You can—"
"Don't be silly. Everyone can talk. You just have to be able to understand the language. Mind you, just because you can say something doesn't mean you have something worth saying."
Hermione gaped. "But you're a phoenix. I don't know phoenix."
"Common ancestor," Fawkes peeped. "Some of us went the winged way. Some of us lost our legs.
"Why are you here?" Hermione asked.
"Albus wanted to know if you were ok."
Hermione cringed.
"Don't worry, I won't tell him anything. I wanted to check on you myself," Fawkes said, preening his fluff. "I'll just make funny noises and drive Albus a little nuts."
"Oh, okay," Hermione said, relaxing a little.
"It's a beautiful day outside," Fawkes said. "You should enjoy it before the storms come."
"Storms?"
The phoenix nodded. "Storms always seem to come after a Burning Day. Not sure why."
"Burning Day?"
Fawkes hopped into her palm and floofed. "Phoenix thing. Snakes shed. Phoenixes—"
"Spontaneously combust," Socrates said, tongue flicking.
"Oh," Hermione said. "That sounds painful."
"Not really," Fawkes replied. "It's quite a relief. I get really hungry though." He gave Hermione a meaningful look.
"Oh! Um… I suppose you can eat with us."
Her headsnakes hissed with excitement.
"You're always hungry," Hermione complained.
They hung their heads, rubbing against her cheek.
Hermione smiled. "It's okay. I get to taste dessert multiple times. Just— no more stink bugs okay?"
Her headsnakes nodded in fervent agreement.
"Alright, let's go," she said, scooping up Fawkes and carrying him with her. Socrates poked his head out the door to check to see who was there and then slithered through it, blazing the trail towards breakfast.
"To what do we owe the pleasure of your company O Flaming Fruit-Seeking Lintball?" Severus asked, stuffing a gooseberry into the phoenix chick's wide open beak.
Fawkes gobbled it down quickly, his headcrest rising. "Burning day," the phoenix peeped. "And breakfast."
Snape raised an eyebrow. "And breakfast is so hard to come by outside of my quarters?"
Fawkes gave an avian shrug. "I like your quarters. It feels nice here. Besides, I like her."
Hermione flushed, passing the breakfast yogurt.
"You just like this place because it's the only place Albus would never expect you to be."
"Hrm, maybe," Fawkes said, scratching his head with his foot. "Can you blame me?"
"You are the one posing as his familiar, Fawkes. You didn't see me volunteering to be his pet sea serpent," Snape chided.
"Don't be silly. Sea serpents hardly fit in an office," Fawkes said. "They aren't exactly portable or inconspicuous."
"Oh and a flaming bird is?"
"Of course," Fawkes replied, preening himself.
Hermione went back and forth watching Fawkes and her master banter. "Are you a Mythborn too?"
Fawkes floofed his downy fluff. "Mmmhmm."
"Wow!" Hermione said excitedly.
Fawkes opened his beak eagerly for more food, and Hermione stuffed a slice of dragonfruit in.
"Mmghfhghthistuffisgreat," Fawkes said.
"So much for that pureblood upbringing and manners," Snape snarked.
"At least I don't capsize ships for fun and profit."
"Really? You, the one who has to relive your childhood over and over are going to tell me that my issues are worse, you combustible flying fire hazard?"
Snape's argument was cut off by Hermione taking Fawkes into her hands and cuddling him close, feeding him some cherries.
"I like him, master," Hermione said.
Fawkes pressed his head to Hermione's cheek, eyes twinkling. "She loves me!"
"She does not!"
"She will. I have the family charm."
Severus scowled.
"Oh, come on Severus," Fawkes said. "You have to admit I had far more suave than my idiot brother who preferred to think with his c— MRFHPHG!" Fawkes glared at Severus, who had clamped his beak shut between his fingers.
"Do try and zip it around my apprentice, lintball. Do I need to give you the lecture about proper behaviour around a young lady, yet again?"
Fawkes sighed. "Sorry. It's been ages since we've had another Mythborn to talk with. And she's adorable. All those snakes. Don't think I didn't miss them nicking all of those shortbread biccies from the Head Table."
The head serpents looked away innocently, wearing their very best halos.
Snape gave him a dismissive wave.
"And the most impressive Socrates, who refused to partner with anyone since— what? Eighteen forty-seven?"
"Hey, I said I'd bond with someone when I was ready to," Socrates said, the tail of something large and rodent-like sliding down his gullet. "The rats around here are huge. What the hell are they feeding them?"
Hermione shrugged. "Ronald always fed Scabbers whatever he had on him. Bertie Botts or crisps."
"Weasley?" Fawkes said. "That rat used to be with Percy, as I recall. I don't know why Albus allows it. Personally, I think he pities the family for not being able to afford a decent familiar animal. We thought that Percy had a proper bond with Scabbers, which is why they let him in before, but he gave that ruddy rat up fast enough when he got an owl, so that theory is out the door."
"Given how much leftovers are left after even one meal around here, I'm surprised we aren't feeding a raving army of rodents and the like. It took Minerva arranging to have the leftovers sent to families in need to keep the house elves from just vanishing it all. Terrible waste if you ask me. Good of her to arrange that."
"I like her," Socrates said. "She rubs my eye ridges."
"You, Socrates? You've become a right old softy, you have," Fawkes said.
"Harrumph," Socrates said. "I like not having to be cooped up in a boring habitat in the DoM all the time, thank you very much. No one comes to poke me anymore in the middle of a glorious dream about a sultry she-basilisk."
Hermione flushed, and Snape gave Socrates a glare fit for making Hufflepuff first years cry.
Socrates hung his head in embarrassment. "Sorry."
"You have a—" Hermione flushed. "Foot stuck between your—" She grimaced as she unwedged it from between Socrates' fangs, shuddered, and scampered off. The sound of running water and the scent of lightly citrus soap followed shortly after.
Fawkes sighed. "Still playing with your food, Socrates?"
The basilisk gave a serpentine shrug. "If you can't enjoy your food, what can you?"
"Like you're one to talk, fruit-seeker."
Fawkes did a fast chick-strut over to a large cluster of grapes and started to make them disappear. "Got to stick with what you like, Severus."
Fawkes eyed Socrates. "You didn't use that delightful little witch just to get out of the DoM did you?"
Socrates snorted. "Hardly. She invaded my habitat and slapped me around so hard with just her presence alone that I would have eaten anyone in her name singing her praises."
"I don't see that little witch as slapping anyone around, Socrates," Fawkes said.
"You really should have been there— on second thought, no, that would have been too embarrassing— well, just trust me that I could no more do anything to harm her than I could raise roosters." Socrates' tongue flicked. "She's stuck with me. I will gladly devour her enemies if she'd just ask."
Severus crossed his arms across his chest. "I'm glad she's not one for casually wishing that someone would just die like a lot of children are prone to doing, never thinking that it could actually come to pass."
"You should let her enjoy her day today, Severus," Fawkes said. "Tomorrow it's going to rain hippogriffs. Alway does after a Burning Day."
"You want me to loose a young Gorgon to frolic out on the school green?"
"Why not?" Fawkes said, itching his wings with his beak.
"Because I'd have to be out there with her?" Snape said, scowling.
"Oh come on, Severus," Fawkes said, yawning widely with open beak. "Live a little."
"I may spontaneously combust."
"That's my job," Fawkes said. "Already done."
"Now that many of you have settled in for the very first time, learned your schedules, and made some new friends. Some of you are glad to come back to the friends you left behind last term, I feel I need to bring up something that has long been a blight upon Hogwarts, and many have believed that because we haven't actually done anything about that makes it somehow perfectly okay."
Dumbledore sighed, rubbing his beard. "I stand up here today to tell you that bullying is not okay. Bullying is, and always has been, the craven act of a true coward. People who hide in groups to justify their despicable behaviour are not any better. Blaming others is not what makes things take a turn for the better. Hard work is, and that means bucking up and supporting your fellows regardless of age."
Dumbledore's famed twinkling eyes had hardened until they resembled frozen chips of blue ice.
"Now, since we are all committed to ending bullying here at Hogwarts, there have been a few new policies that have been implemented. However, since I am sure that all of you recognise the seriousness of this situation and will not partake of it, I should not have to lay it out word for word. Instead, let me encourage you to extend your assistance, to offer your kindness and the hand of friendship to all those around you. You might be in different houses, but that does not mean there is a line you are not permitted to cross. It does not mean if they are in a different house that they are your enemy. Points are a measure of teamwork, or that is what they should be. In fact, in order to ensure this lesson sinks home, all Hogwarts teachers will be awarding points not for just the usual things but specific acts of teamwork. Teamwork between Houses will earn both of those houses more points. Now, negative points can and will still occur, so this is not an excuse for not being suitably prepared for your classes."
Dumbledore frowned. "Now, on a more positive note, Quidditch tryouts begin next Monday and all those who wish to try out must have a signed approval from Madam Hooch that you have completed basic flying safety course and a signature from each of your professors that you are in good standing academically in each class. All those who are approved are welcome to come and try out. After all, we cannot expect you to survive in the world with only clever broom tricks to your name, now can we?"
"Oh— and one more thing before we begin to dig into our most delicious breakfast," Albus said. "I know there has been some debate amongst you all as to whether it was truly me that made the announcement earlier this month that Hermione Granger is Professor Snape's new apprentice, and I will confirm for you all that indeed was me and that she most certainly is. For those of you who have read your copy of Hogwarts: A History, you are aware that such formal apprenticeships date back hundreds of years, and the relationship between master and apprentice is quite sacred. While I am sure that none of you would be quite so unwise as to treat Apprentice Granger with anything less than the appropriate respect due her role, I will take this moment to remind everyone that anything that might be caused to befall Apprentice Granger can and will be addressed by her master, Professor Snape. You may all rest assured, if there is any question as to the total seriousness of all this, that I will reinforce anything Professor Snape decides in double if it comes under question."
Albus perked. "Do enjoy your breakfast. We will delay your first classes for twenty minutes to allow you to finish your meal and get to class."
"Quirrell, are quite you well? You look a little peaked to me," Minerva asked the flighty professor.
"Wh-whu-what? Oh!" Quirrell replied. "Just thinking about my class."
"You might want to go see Poppy, my friend," Minerva said with concern. "You're sweating quite a bit."
"Oh! I'm sure I'm fine, P-p-professor McGonagall," Quirrell said.
"DEATH will come upon you, child!" Trelawney droned over Hermione. "For you will soon feel the stone cold embrace of the grave!"
Hermione froze in place with a raspberry between her fingers. Her hair froze in strange positions, seeming to stare at Trelawney.
"You cannot fool me! The trappings of darkness soaked in the blood of the pure shall cover the true face of evil!" Trelawney wailed, waving her finger like the gnarled branches of the Whomping Willow.
A curl from Hermione's mane seemed to lash out at Trelawney, and Trelawney instantly recoiled.
"Cursed spawn of darkness!" Trelawney accused. "YOU do not belong with Severus!"
Suddenly there was a brightly coloured phoenix chick perched directly on top of Trelawney's head.
Splat.
"Ewwwwww!" the children in the front rows cried simultaneously, giggling.
Fawkes peeped imperiously from atop Sybil's head, scratched her head with his feet, and hopped back over to Albus, diving into his long beard.
Albus stroked his beard and his ornery phoenix chick. "I don't know what's gotten into you lately, Fawkes, but I hope you don't make a habit of relieving yourself on my staff."
"Bbbsszzzttrrffzzz!" Fawkes said, mimicking the wizarding wireless again.
Albus sighed and ate his blueberry breakfast torte.
"Master?"
"Hrm?"
"Does Professor Trelawney like you?"
Severus stared down at the sopophorous beans on his worktable. "Unfortunately."
"You don't like her?"
"Apprentice, I don't think anyone likes her," Snape replied, rubbing the space between his eyes.
"But she's a teacher."
"Not for her skill," Snape said. "I am not saying you should not treat her as respectfully as you are able, but you should probably not take anything she says to heart."
"She teaches— Divination?" Hermione asked, taking the small vial of something from Nag and the silver knife from Nagaina.
"Teaches is a loose word for it," Snape said with a sigh.
"You don't believe in Divination?" Hermione asked, pressing her silver knife down on the sopophorous beans and guiding the juice into the vial.
"There are times, perhaps, that Sybill has given true prophecy, but she is not like her ancestor, who was a true Seer. She is, most of the time, a charletan," Snape explained. "The problem is, for what she has said that was right, some would kill her, and Dumbledore did not want her death on his hands, for it was to him that one of her true prophecies came into light."
"Oh," Hermione said as she squeezed the last of the juice from the bean. "Master?"
"Hrm?"
"Is Neville okay?"
"He is doing somewhat better now. The Weasley twins have taken it upon themselves to ensure that Mr Longbottom does not do anything overly stupid on their watch," Snape replied.
Hermione sighed with relief.
"I am sorry we had to cut your frolicking on the green short today," Severus said. "Unfortunately Filius gave out no less than ten detentions this morning, and five of them were with me."
Hermione corked the vial of bean juice and brought it up to him. Snape held it up to the light and squinted.
"That's okay, Master," Hermione said. "I got to sun myself a little. It felt really good on my scales. My head serpents loved it."
Snape's lips tugged upward. "The juice is adequate, but let me show you a trick so you do not get any pod pieces in with the juice. It will not matter in for the purposes of any class we'll be using it in, but later, when I have you brewing things, it will."
He plucked a bean from the jar. "Now, use aguamenti to fill a small lid and place the beans in it. Let them soak for say— five minutes. It will be the time it takes to check if you have the other ingredients sorted. Take them out and place them on your board as before, and use the flat side of your knife to squeeze out the juice. Now, fill a pipette with pure alcohol top to the top of the rubber and drop it into the vial. Watch."
Hermione's eyes widened as the juice replaced the alcohol, leaving the bits of matter on the bottom of the vial.
"Now you can put what is in this pipette into a pure vial," Snape instructed. "And it will be doubly concentrated. If a recipe calls for ten drops, use five. If it calls for one, use one of the miniature droppers."
"Yes, Master!" Hermione said.
"Good, clean up as my detentionees shall be here soon," Snape instructed. "Be sure to put on your mask."
"Yes, Master!" Hermione said cheerfully, going about the cleaning of her work station. "Do you always have detention in the afternoon?"
Snape sighed. "It was a special request by Filius."
"They must have done something really bad," Hermione said, hastily cleaning her cauldron and arranging all the beakers and potion set ingredients to their normal position.
"First to test if the anti-bullying rules were a joke," Snape said. "They found otherwise."
"I didn't expect Headmaster Dumbledore to respond so quickly," Hermione confessed.
Severus sighed. "He was not always so concerned, I will admit," he said. "I am glad, however, that he is willing to embrace change."
There was a knock on the lab classroom door, and Hermione immediately pulled her mask over her face and tucked her serpents back under the glamour.
"Well, it seems you have not wasted any time testing Professor Dumbledore's reminder to treat your fellow students with respect," Snape said, eyeing each student with a scornful gaze. "Since you seem to be unable to contain your hostility, I will assist you in giving you something to occupy your obviously insufficiently taxed minds and bodies with— something suitably constructive to do."
The five students peered at the potions master with nothing short of total submission, their faces twisted with guilt and shame.
"Apprentice Granger."
"Yes, Master."
"Please turn the board and give our guests their assignment."
"Yes, Master," she replied, turning the board around to expose:
Strip leaves and shave outer skin from fresh stinging nettles. Collect spines and place in jar. Place the leaves in your cauldron and steep them in distilled water heated to precisely 181 degrees C for 60 minutes, stirring 5 times clockwise, then 5 counterclockwise during the entire brewing time. Then collect the solution that results and bring it to me for approval.
-or-
Scour cauldrons until they sparkle. You may use soap, water, and scrub brushes only. You may leave when all the cauldrons are clean to my satisfaction. This may be a group activity.
-or-
Craft a replacement working, usable, table and chair set completely identical to the ones you destroyed in Professor Flitwick's classroom this morning.
-or-
(Group Activity) Collect a jar full of bouncing spider juice. Spiders must remain alive when jar is turned in. Terrarium filled with African Purple Spotted Bouncing Spiders is located in the back of the classroom.
Note: Do not irritate or otherwise injure my spiders, and I will be able to tell if you have manhandled them.
-or-
(Group Activity) Clean the attic above the potions storage room. All fresh flobberworm mucus is to be gathered into clearly labeled containers.
If you do not complete one of these tasks to my satisfaction by the end of this detention, you will have detention with me every night until the ENTIRE list is completed.
Severus leveled a dour face at the students. "Whether you are working solo or as part of one of the group tasks, you may leave once you have completed that task to my satisfaction. You may now— begin."
Severus eyed Hermione, who was cooing at a purple bouncing spider who very happily, gleefully even, donated a full drop of its venom into a pipette for her. The other spiders, which were jealous of their clutter-mate getting all the love, scurried over her, eager to donate venom for love.
"Eee!" Hermione said, falling backwards, giggling.
"Apprentice," he said, trying to make it sound angry.
"Yes, ehehHEHEHEHEH Master?"
"Put those spiders back into the terrarium for our guests.
"Yes, Master," she said.
He noticed how she gave each of the jumping spiders pets on their back before shooing them back into the tank. The spiders, seemingly overly reluctant, slowly moved back into the holding habitat.
Severus sighed. It was hard to make punishment seem like punishment when your apprentice befriended the African Purple Spotted Bouncing Spiders.
"Severus," Minerva said.
"Hrm?"
"Why is my daughter covered in giant purple spotted bouncing spiders?"
"Would you prefer if they danced?"
Minerva's lip twitched, shadowing a whisker rustle.
"If you must know, she befriended them during detention, and now they won't leave her alone." Severus flipped the parchment he was grading over. "They practically took off the lid of their enclosure to get back to her once detention was over."
"Aren't they—"
"Venomous, yes," Severus said. "Don't worry, you'd have to squeeze one really hard to get it to bite you with the real horrible venom, and they can take a lot of abuse before getting brassed off. The little buggers are disgustingly happy. Besides, she's immune. I wouldn't give them as a task during detention if I thought they would actually harm them if someone was overwhelmingly stupid. That clutter is probably the most obnoxiously helpful batch of spiders I've ever raised."
Minerva watched as Hermione flopped on her stomach and flipped through a giant tome.
"Oh, this one looks nice," Hermione said to a dark purple spider. "What do you think?"
The spider cooed and squeaked indignantly as its clutter mate nudged him over to join him on the rim of the book. Meanwhile, some of the spiders seemed to be making quite a friendship with the headsnakes, and even Chicka seemed to be calmer with a bouncing spider friend.
"Making Bouncing Spider Juice again?" Minerva asked.
"Unfortunately, I was out," Severus replied. "I had forgotten I had used the last of it treating Hagrid's 'mopey thestrals'."
Minerva lifted an eyebrow. "I thought they came that way."
"Hagrid claims they were mopey."
"It's no wonder you forgot," Minerva mumbled. "I'd want to forget spending time on that too."
Severus snorted. "If this keeps up, she'll never be able to get them back into their habitat. They'll follow her to the ends of the earth."
"They are immune to petrification?"
"One of the few spider species that are. It's probably why they are so happy all the time."
Minerva rolled her eyes.
"If you were to believe it, they are related to the spider species that helped Athena when her clothing was damaged in battle. They repaired her chiton with their silk and wove her a new peplos to keep her warm. In gratitude, she gave them her blessing— the first blessing to the spiders since she cursed Arachne into a spider— to be immune to the gaze of Medusa, her high priestess."
"Do you believe it?" Minerva asked.
Snape gave her a sidelong glance. "They are immune."
"That does not answer my question."
Snape shrugged. "It would be unwise of me to denouce Athena as myth when evidence of Her hand is so very close, hrm?"
"Spoken like a true Slytherin."
Severus shook his head. "How fortunate that I am. Besides, Minerva, is your name not also a tribute to goddess Herself?"
"I never said I didn't believe, laddie," Minerva replied.
"You're brilliant!" Hermione cried, scooping up the larger of the bouncing spiders and planting a kiss on it's back.
"Eeee!" the spider squeaked and ran around in frantic happy circles.
Hermione rushed off to the potions table setup and frantically started to throw in ingredients. She waited, headserpents peering in and hissing to each other. She threw in something, stirred it once and waited again.
She picked up one of the bouncing spiders and stuck a pipette to the end of one fang, getting some of its precious venom, then she held it out and got a sample from each of her serpents. Tinting her head to the side and using a mirror, she stuck the pipette on the end of one of her fangs and gave her own donation and shook the collected venom cocktail up and dripped it in the cauldron, stirring anti-clockwise.
She stared at the bubbling mixture, frowning. "It needs something."
She stared some more. "Oh! Socrates!"
"Hrm?" the basilisk raised his head from the book he was reading. "May I have some of your venom?"
Socrates opened his mouth wide and Hermione stuck her head in, sticking a pipette on the end of one of his smaller fangs. "Thanks Socrates!" she said, dripping it into her potion cauldron.
"Nuhproblehm," he muttered, licking his fangs before closing his mouth.
The cauldron's mixture stabilised into a golden liquid as a shimmering snake jumped up from the cauldron, chased by a potion spider, and a flurry of other serpents formed from the potion itself.
"Apprentice," Severus addressed.
Hermione's eyes widened. "Yes, Master?"
"What did you make?"
Hermione decanted a vial of the potion and stoppered it, handing it to him. "It's either a highly stable anti-venin or a really potent poison," Hermione said.
"And you aren't sure which?"
Hermione looked sheepish. "I'm ninety-eight percent sure it's a highly potent and stable anti-venin. I used the bouncing spider venom to bind the other venoms together and combined it with a dittany chaser. It's all in a blood replenishing potion base that when in contact with magical physiology, should treat any snake bite either by ingestion or topically."
"What is the other two percent?"
"I could kill you painfully in a matter of seconds."
Severus eyed his apprentice and the new potion. "I suppose we should find a way to test it without killing someone, hrm?"
Hermione looked hopeful.
"Store the rest," Severus said. "If this does work, Amelia will want you to share it with her agents in the field."
"Yes, Master!"
"Miss Granger."
"Yes, Master?"
"If this works, you can choose one spell of your choice you wish me to teach you."
Hermione's face brightened, all of her head-snakes standing straight up with excitement. The bouncing spiders jumped up and down on her shoulder and from atop her head with glee. "Thank you, Master!"
"What inspired this?" Amelia asked as the alchemists ran the potion through a varitible gauntlet of tests.
"An African Purple-spotted Bouncing Spider told her why everyone loves their venom," Severus said calmly.
Amelia tilted her head. "And what reason is that, for those of us who are not buried in Potioneering?"
"It spreads through the bloodstream faster than any other substance we can create. She had the idea that if it is used in potions to deliver medicine that it could also be used to deliver anti-venin. Combined with the Blood Replenishing Potion and Dittany, it had the potential to make for a mix that could be used in battle to stop both repair damaged skin, prevent scarring, and— cancel out some of the most fatal venoms known to Wizardkind before they could get to the brain and do to people like the boomslang bite did to Ms Skeeter." Severus rubbed his chin thoughtfully. She's rather amazing, yes? Even if it doesn't work, she still had to try it because it made sense to her."
"You said she used every venom she had on hand to craft it?"
"All the ones she had access to."
Amelia smiled. "That's a lot of venoms."
"Quite."
Amelia chuckled as she watched Eleanor teaching Hermione some new spells to keep her entertained. "She is quite something, Severus. Piers has been in a slump since she left with Socrates— or Socrates left with her. He'd been trying to get some glimmer of cooperation from that basilisk for the last forty years. I think he feels being outdone by a twelve year old is a little demeaning."
Snape snorted. "Had I the kind of encouragement at her age, things would have been interesting."
"Of that I have little doubt, but you wouldn't have charmed Socrates," Amelia mused. "I think those two were meant for each other. Besides, his language is much better not that he's with her. He's such a potty mouth. I think the poor sap at the Exotic Familiar Registration Office babbled nonsense for a week after we filed the paperwork to release Socrates with a small girl that might just blow over in the wind."
"He didn't even know what she was, I bet."
Amelia smiled. "No, not really. Oh, we have the goggles for his eyes whenever you want to to bring them down and have them fitted. Should resize as he does and make things easier if not safer. I mean, he's still a giant venomous snake, but at least he won't petrify anyone by accident. It's the intentionally we have to worry about."
"Thank you," Severus said. "He had that makeshift blindfold, which helped, but it wasn't perfect."
Amelia nodded. "Did Albus have any issues with Socrates?"
Severus snorted. "Albus has changed since back when I was a boy. He seems to realise whatever it takes to make Hermione happier and more well adjusted means she'll do great things instead of becoming me."
"Mr Stormcloud raining down on his parade?"
Snape rolled his eyes. "That too. She may yet rain on his parade, but she will be brighter and more cheerful as she does so."
"Did she say why she wanted to make this new potion, Severus?"
Severus tilted his head thoughtfully. "She wanted to make me proud."
"Are you, my friend?"
"Most assuredly," Snape replied, his pale fingers brushing his chin.
"So, you're the one who liberated Socrates," the grizzled Auror said with a grunt.
Hermione stared at Moody and his madly darting eye. "Hullo." She bowed her head respectfully, but her head-serpents continued to peer at him without bothering to be polite about it.
"I'm Mad-Eye," he said with a snort. "You can call me Alastor. I don't like all the poncy titles."
Hermione stared at his multitude of scars and his eye, seeming to take them all in. "You have so many scars."
"I've survived a whole lot of horrible, lassie," Moody said. "If you're lucky you will too, only with far less scars to show for it."
"You're an Unspeakable?"
"Auror, officially," Moody said. "Makes it a lot easier to just show up at a scene and boss people around."
Hermione giggled.
"I see you and Severus are getting along swimmingly," he said. "If the dreary fashion sense is any indicator."
Hermione patted her robes. "Is there something wrong?"
"Nah, lassie. Nuthin' wrong with it. You'll part crowds like the seas, I'm sure. Severus will teach you right. But—" Alastor pulled a lolly out of "space" handing it to her, "outside of here, I'll be a bit harder to get along with."
Hermione frowned even as she accepted the sweet treat from him.
"He means that we go at it like fire and petrol," Severus said, giving Alastor the eye.
"Hah!" Moody replied standing. "Good to see you, Severus," he said, clapping him on the shoulder. "I hope the old man isn't driving you batty."
"According to the school, I am quite the bat already."
Alastor gave him a look of sympathy. "You see, lass. The two of us have a sort of act we have to put on out there in the world. Out there, I treat him like he's the scum of the Earth."
"Here, I treat him l ike's he's the scum of the Earth," Severus quipped.
"Har, har," Moody said, shaking his head. "You're Slytherin now, aye?"
Hermione nodded.
"Then you know how it is. The outside face. The safe-place face, hrm?"
Hermione smiled. "I understand. It's like wearing my mask, only less obvious."
Alastor smiled. "Good lass. You take care of old Socrates. He's a pain in everyone's ass, but he'll keep you safe."
The basilisk hiss-snorted, but he extended himself to rub against Moody's fingers.
"Travel-sized now, eh Socrates? Suits you. No one will see you coming."
Socrates hissed his approval.
"Not sure if you know this, lass, but basilisks are considered a XXXXX beast by the Ministry of Magic. They say they are only bred by Dark Wizards, that they are a wizard-killer, cannot be domesticated— blah, blah, blah." Alastor smiled at her. "The truth is a bit more complicated. Most basilisks are unredeemable because they are, in fact, bred by Dark Wizards. They aren't properly socialised. They never learned right from wrong. After a certain time you really can't help them. Like a feral animal. Socrates here— he was born when a young witch was trying to breed Magicae hens and some lunatic tried to drive her out by raining down on her with a toad plague."
"So he hatched a basilisk," Hermione said.
"Aye, lass." Alastor rubbed his chin. "Unfortunately, the young basilisk killed everything on that farm with his gaze, but that's how the Unspeakables found him, caught him, and brought him here. He'd um… ate all his brothers and sisters."
Hermione's eyes widened as she stared at Socrates.
Socrates hung his head. "I was really hungry."
"No killing or eating my family and friends," Hermione said with a scowl.
Socrates tongue flicked her nose. "I won't."
"So, that's why my master made him look like a different snake to other people?"
Moody nodded. "You're allowed him, lass. He's your familiar. That bond is as sacred as they come. No one, not even the Minister for Magic can take him from you. But it's best that he doesn't scream basilisk out there any more than people aren't quite ready to realise they are sharing a school with a Gorgon."
Hermione nodded. "I understand."
"Good lass," Alastor said. "Eleanor teach you anything fun?"
Hermione beamed. "Watch!"
She concentrated really hard and her head-snakes disappeared into a blur of Disillusionment. "I'm still working on the rest of me."
Alastor hooted laughter as he slapped Severus on the back. "My friend, you have a keeper."
Snape crossed his arms across his body and harrumphed. "Obviously."
"So, what is it, exactly?" Severus asked.
"Miraculous!"
Snape eyed the alchemist with a raised eyebrow. "Care to be more specific, by chance?"
"Remember those hippogriffs that were all scarred and lame from Cruciatus? The ones McNair supposedly "found"?"
"Yes, and?" Snape said.
"Look for yourself," the man said, gesturing to an observation window. "They were on their last legs. Master Barnsworth said they had maybe a week left in them. They made good test subjects because they were looking at being euthanised just so they didn't have to suffer anymore."
Snape looked through the observation window, his eyebrows rising. "Where are the injured ones?"
"Those are the injured ones."
"Well— that certainly changes things."
"Severus, this isn't just an antivenin," the wizard said. "It's an honest-to-goodness magic potion and a total game changer. If this works for humans like it does for hippogriffs, this could help people that have been in Mungo's for decades. I mean, you can't restore memories that just plain gone, but people could learn again. Have a chance at a normal life."
"You want more potion to test, don't you, Master Healer Flagstone."
"Please, Severus," the wizard pleaded. "I want to do this. If this is the real thing— I want it tested right. Make sure it's safe. You know I can do it. I have patients that aren't going to make it through the night. They have no other option. No other treatment that might give them any bit of hope. They're left to die, painfully, horribly—"
Snape pulled out another flask of the golden liquid from his robes. "Be careful with it, Master Healer. It may be a fluke. We have yet to test if she can make it again."
The wizard took the flask reverently. "Bless you, Severus," he gushed, hurrying off down the hospital corridor.
Wondrous New Potion Treatment
Clinical Trial For Last Chance Cases Only
Master Severus Snape and his apprentice, Hermione Granger have developed a new treatment based on exotic venoms— a treatment that shows great promise in magical creatures and a handful of human patients that it has been tried on. However, it is still in a very strict testing phase and is open to human testing only on last chance beyond all hope trial basis.
"The results have been far beyond anything we could have possibly hoped for," Master Healer Benjamin Flagstone stated. "We are highly optimistic, but we are also cautious. So far we have only tested it on last resort patients whose treatments with every other possible method was already exhausted. That being said, we have patients recovering from complete paralysis and regaining the ability to remember again after undergoing severe brain trauma."
Healers with patients with dire conditions who think this new treatment is the only hope for the people in their care are encouraged to contact Healer Flagstone with a description of their patient's condition so it can be determined whether they fit the criteria for this particular trial.
"We can't guarantee miraculous results," Flagstone said, "but to those who have no other option but death, this treatment may prove invaluable."
Hermione released the final drop of Socrates' venom into the cauldron and stirred anti-clockwise, waiting. The cauldron shimmered, burbling violently, but then immediately calmed like the surface of a placid lake. Serpents jumped within, formed by the liquid, in a golden arch.
She stepped back from the cauldron, looking to her master for a cue as to what to do, but the room came a live with applause. Healers, dressed in their most formal garb, clapped.
"Ladies and gentlewizards," a healer announced from the podium. "This is the repeatable potion you have all heard about, the Caduceus Elixir, the healing of the serpent. While it's creation, as you have seen, can only be done by Master Snape's apprentice, Hermione Granger, you will also understand what a rare treasure it is. We will be attempting experiments on creating it without her having to slave over a cauldron, however we are treating this creation as the gift it is."
"She is not a resource to be squeezed and milked, and her Master is not to be begged for exceptions to the standard rules for use of the elixir," the Master Healer continued. "Everyone who is present today is sworn under magical oath not to reveal the secrets of its making for the safety of the young apprentice who made this all possible. However, we are happy to report that every patient that has been treated has responded well."
As the people swirled around them, Hermione buried herself into Severus' dark robes, hoping to make herself inconspicuous. She was glad that her master was taking all of the questions and protecting her from the interrogation and the full brunt of the limelight. She loved that her potion worked— better than worked— but she knew it was pure luck that had gotten her as far as she had. Luck and her master's hand, guiding her in so many other small exercises that had allowed her do what she did. The rest was the varied venoms of her large array of serpents, which was hardly her expertise.
Fame, Hermione had decided, wasn't for her. As long as her master was happy with her, she was more than happy. She didn't care that her name wasn't in lights as big as her master's at all. He guided her, protected her, and taught her, and ever since she'd become his apprentice she had learned the true face of her master. She felt safe in his care, and she felt he would not decide one day that she was not human enough to love.
Perhaps, she thought, her desperation had made her cling to whatever approval she could get, even from a man such as Severus Snape, but she dismissed it. He did care for her. He did protect her, and all the people from the Unspeakable family seemed to think highly of him— something the outside "world" did not.
How a person could be so much the same and yet garner hatred from one side and admiration from another was beyond her. But then, she remembered that once, she too, had thought him cruel and beyond likeability. The potions, the meetings, the social functions— all of it was another stepping stone to her future, and she took her cues from her master to learn how to act, when to bow, when to burrow into his robes, and when to stand independently. She felt more confident to stand by herself because she knew what it felt like to stand with someone supporting her.
It felt good to be understood. It felt good to have someone she could burrow into— safe from harm. Safe from a world that didn't understand her.
As she looked up at her master and saw the minute quirk of his lips into his version of a broad grin, Hermione snuggled into his side, playing the part of the shy apprentice but ultimately rejoicing that she'd made her master happy.
Under the cover of his black robes, his hand gently touched and soothed her snakes. Hermione felt the shiver of pleasure and contentment and smiled, closing her eyes. Let the years come. She was ready to be the very best student she could be— as long as it ended with the tug of a smile on her master's lips and the feel of his warm hand on her head.
A/N: Oh come on. This is me you're reading. You didn't think I could write a story without including happy spiders of SOME sort, did you?