Song Suggestion: Raury- "God's Whisper"
Thank you to by Beta, MyPrivateInsanity, for helping with this chapter, despite her having a rough week. Forever grateful!
Best comment award: He's a ten, but he's the Butcher of Manchester.
Literally spit out my drink. Y'all make me laugh.
The Coven of the Tree
After Christmas break, Hermione entered her classroom in the manor to find a stranger sitting behind the professor's desk. His robes were old-fashioned, with the traditional hat and a dark blond beard that reached his stomach.
"Hello," he said, letting his reading glasses dip down his nose as he peered over them at her. It was an odd look, she thought, as if she was someone he hadn't seen in a long time. Slowly, he closed his book and stood up. "My name is Gideon Booth. I'll be your new professor."
"What happened to Professor Crawford?" Her most recent tutor was so old he barely knew what was going on around him. They often had to remind him to stay on task, as he tended to veer off into stories, staring at the wall, forgetting where he was.
"Retirement, if you can believe it."
A joke. Hermione smiled, already liking the man.
The studies that day focused on Care of Magical Creatures. He brought out a Puffskein, much to the delight of Julie, who squealed when she saw it. And then a Bowtruckle, a magical insect resembling a branch on a tree. Finch nearly fainted in excitement.
Later in the day, as she worked on her essay, the back of her neck prickled as if she was being watched, but each time she glanced up, her professor's eyes were trained on the chalkboard. She brushed off the feeling, sure she was imagining things.
But then, after class, Professor Booth stopped her on the way to the treehouse. Her friends had already gone out the door.
"A moment, Miss Hermione."
A bead of sweat ran down the side of his face, and he adjusted his robes. Nott manor struggled with ventilation, even with charms, but it wasn't hot enough to produce that reaction.
"I've come to understand that you know most of what I'm teaching, so I've prepared a separate lesson to challenge you. The content has already been approved by your master, of course." Professor Booth brought out two heavy books from his satchel and placed them on his desk. Achievements in Charming and A Comprehensive History of Ancient Britannia. She placed her fingers on one of the titles.
"I'm afraid I've read these already."
"Is that so? Well, regardless, I'd like you to read the first chapter of each tonight."
"I don't—"
"I insist."
A little annoyed, Hermione picked up the books and clutched them to her chest. The professor relaxed into his chair and gave her the same odd stare as she walked out.
Later that night, Hermione sat in her bed. She didn't want to read the same information twice, but he'd been insistent, so she picked up the book on charms and opened it.
It wasn't about charms.
Hermione flipped through the pages, finding numbers and formulas. It resembled arithmancy, but it used symbols she'd never seen before. Of course, she already knew addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division, but this… she'd never seen anything like it.
All at once, Hermione understood— muggle mathematics.
Instinct made her slam the illegal book shut in panic, but curiosity caused her to pick up the second book.
Instead of numbers, it showcased odd pictures. She didn't stop long enough to read the descriptions.
Dean had been nine when he'd been found. For the two years prior, he had attended an illegal muggle school, where they learned about things called cells and atoms and germs. He'd tried to explain it once. From what little she knew, the magical world studied some of the same things as muggles, especially for spell creation, advanced transfiguration, and healing. But they were considered specialised studies and not something approved for muggleborns.
Maybe if she learned muggle mathematics and science, she could study higher forms of magic when the opportunity arose.
The thought sent a buzzing excitement through her.
She flipped the book shut, heart pounding.
But why did Professor Booth sneak her a muggle mathematics and science book?
Whatever the reason, Titus certainly had not approved the content of this lesson. He hated anything muggle, especially their gadgets. He blamed his parents' deaths on them. Somehow, the professor snuck the books inside the manor right under his nose. If Hermione were a more obedient person, she'd tell Titus about the book.
Booth could be like Ollivander—a wizard she suspected didn't believe muggleborns should be denied knowledge or magic—but he also might be a member of the Order, attempting to earn her trust just to snatch her away.
Hermione chewed on her lip in indecision. The thought of giving up new knowledge made her shudder. She'd rather chop off a limb.
For whatever reason, Professor Booth decided to risk Azkaban to give her forbidden knowledge.
What could it hurt to read them? Why did it matter whether she learned about muggle things? It's not as if she'd ever use it.
And maybe he'd give her more books…
It made her uneasy and wary of her new professor, but with a nod of her head, she made her decision. She cracked open the science book again and began to read.
Professor Booth had been standing in front of the chalkboard, engrossed in writing, when she entered the classroom.
When he noticed her, his chalk stopped with a small screech. A muscle twitched in his jaw, and his hand jerked once—the only sign of his nerves.
"Did you read the first chapters in the books I gave you?" He asked.
The question hung heavy between them. She had three choices.
One: tell Titus and have her new teacher carted off to Azkaban. She'd also need to give up her new books, so she liked this option the least.
Two: Keep the books, but figure out why Professor Booth wanted to give them to her in the first place. But then he might not want to give her another one. Maybe he'd think it posed too much of a risk and quit. This scenario didn't appeal to her ethier.
Three: Let him keep his secrets, read the books he gave her, and possibly get more in the future.
Really, it wasn't a hard choice at all.
"I did," she said. "The content was… fascinating."
A slow grin grew on Professor Booth's face, so wide it showed his teeth.
"I thought you'd see the value in rereading," he said. "When you finish them, I have others I think you might find interesting too."
"I'd like that very much." Hermione walked to her seat, brushing aside a sudden odd guilt, knowing that, once again, she betrayed Titus' trust.
In the Spring, after her friends went home, Hermione retreated to her room, pulling out her wand and the spell parchments Titus gave her.
The first list only had simple spells, like Alohomora, Accio, and Lumos—along with harmless little incantations and a few prank hexes. Titus made notes in the margins that he wanted her to practise the prank hexes on Theo. She imagined he grinned when he wrote it.
The new set of spells proved more difficult, but still relatively harmless. They tended to be the opposite of the first list. Depulso, for instance, was the counter-charm to Accio. It took three tries for Hermione to succeed, shoving a book across the room. Reducio came next, a foil to Engorgio. Still, Hermione found it too easy.
She remembered Dumbledore's duel, the spells curving like whips, electrifying the air.
She wished to know how to truly duel, not just produce a Protego. The only duelling curses she knew were Reducto, Petrificus Totalus, and Expelliarmus, and even those she'd not yet fully mastered. She'd win a duel if she surprised someone, but not a wizard with a basic Hogwarts education, and certainly not the Order.
Hermione took a breath, looking around. Titus would be gone for several hours still. Tabitha and the elves were working on the front garden. No one would be home.
She went to her closet and wiggled loose a floorboard, a hiding spot she'd found long ago. It served her well for little things she snagged here or there: pieces of discarded homework from Theo, a missive with spells documented on it that Titus had thrown in the bin. But her most important treasure barely fit in her cache. Hermione reached in and took out the spell book, which rested on top of her muggle books. She'd found it in the old quidditch storage room. Made in the mid-1800's, it stayed pristine because of several preservation spells. At one point long ago, a Nott ancestor left his Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts spell book behind for a quidditch game. To Hermione, it proved more precious than gold.
She pulled it out and sniffed the dusty pages, the spine creaking as she opened it.
Taking out her wand, she gave practice strokes in the air for an advanced defensive charm labelled Expecto Patronum. It repelled Dementors with a spirit familiar, springing from good thoughts, and could be used to send messages without owls. Not that she ever thought she'd need to repel a Dementor, but a person never knew when something could prove useful. After sufficient practice at that, she read the movements for Oculus Lacrimam, a spell that ripped an opponent's eyeballs out. She doubted they still taught the gruesome spell, mostly because it required too many swishes of a wand to be effective in battle.
She was so focused on her studies that she didn't notice the door opening until she heard a gasp. Looking up, she saw Julie frozen in the doorway. Hermione lunged for her friend, tugging her inside and shutting the door.
"That's a wand," Julie said in a soft voice. "A real wand."
"What are you doing here?"
Julie shook her head to orient herself.
"Titus wanted to talk to dad. He said it was okay if I came back to find you."
Hermione's heart rate slowed down.
"Please don't tell," Hermione said. "I promise I'm allowed to have it. Titus gave it to me."
"Why would he do that? He'd get in so much trouble with the ministry."
Hermione hesitated and looked at her friend's wide eyes. Delicate freckles dotted around her body, making her look younger. She'd always been the smallest out of them even though she was the oldest, eighteen already. She only came to the lessons because Bellatrix insisted, and no one was dumb enough to challenge that.
Out of everyone in the world, she trusted Julie with her secrets.
"You have to pinky promise not to tell anyone."
Dean showed them how to do the muggle promise on his second day of lessons. To their small group, it was sacred— an ode to their shared past. No one broke the pinky promise.
"Pinky promise," Julie agreed. She reached out her little finger, and Hermione looped hers around it— a solemn vow.
When they broke apart, Hermione lifted her hand and twisted. The candle on the side of her bed lit up into a single quivering flame.
Julie gasped.
"Wandless magic!" She searched Hermione's expression and laid her hand on Hermione's wrist, as if acknowledging the risk. "I won't tell a soul."
"They got me a wand because the ministry ones would be too weak, and my magic could go bad inside me."
Julie's eyes crinkled in concern.
"Did he give you that spell book too?"
Hermione looked down at the book in her hand.
"No, Titus gave me a curriculum, but I find it… boring. He restricts the books I can read, and it's making me go spare. I found this one and hid it."
"The spells in that book are for fighting."
"Yeah," Hermione admitted, unsure how gentle, pure, sweet Julie would feel about her learning serious duelling curses, some of them bordering on dark.
But the look she gave her surprised Hermione. It edged on hunger— the same hunger she felt— eyes shining with excitement.
"Would you be able to teach me?"
"Spells?"
"Wandless magic."
"I don't know. I'm not sure if it can be taught or not, but I think… well, I think I could teach you normal spells. The ones the ministry want you to learn are stupid. What's the point of cleaning and cooking spells when we won't ever use them? You don't have a wand, but we could probably practise the movements with sticks, since the ministry ones might record it if you actually produced magic."
Julie kept her eyes on the wand.
"I don't want to learn fighting spells, but… there's something missing in me. The ministry wands help, but it's painful. The magic in me wants to be used. It's like they're keeping us hobbled, but I don't understand why."
An idea came to Hermione then—a dangerous, rebellious, subversive idea. It didn't stem from wanting to disobey Titus, but she'd never been one to follow rules if her heart told her different. If they were discovered, the consequences might be severe. But magic was as essential to her as water and food, and the more she used it, the bigger space it took up in her soul. Denying muggleborns magic was wrong. She'd felt it even as a child. It was the only thing she really disagreed with Titus on.
"Maybe I can teach all of you."
Julie put the edge of her thumb in her mouth, nibbling on her thumbnail, something she often did when anxious, which was most of the time. But after a few minutes of contemplation, she smiled.
"We could be our own coven."
Hermione's whole body erupted into goosebumps.
"Tomorrow, in the treehouse."
Julie nodded, and Hermione showed her how to do simple spells until her master called her away.
The next day after lessons, they all climbed into the treehouse.
When Julie first started lessons, everything terrified her, but she'd grown much braver— at least brave enough to go up the bucket rope. She still stayed far away from nature, and if she did go out, she used bug repellent. Finch liked to tease her with frogs and jumping spiders, making her screech each time.
When she crawled up and panted against the wood, everyone gave playful claps.
"Shut up." She groaned and rolled over. "I made it, didn't I?."
Hermione used the moment to pull out her wand. Before the others could comment, she sealed the treehouse, darkening the windows. She placed a candle before her, and with a wave of her hand, the wick caught on fire. In the flickering candlelight, she saw all of their surprised faces.
"Did you just do magic?" Dean asked. "Like real magic? With a wand?"
"Yes."
"She wants to teach us," Julie said.
"But we don't have wands," Finch said with a frown. "Not real ones." He stared at her wand with raw jealousy.
"Not yet," Hermione said. "But I'm working on a plan to get them for you."
Hermione launched into the same story she told Julie, from start to finish, from her late-night practice sessions to her near kidnapping. And then the conversation with Lucius and choosing her wand.
"Ollivander said some strange things." Hermione looked at her wand in contemplation. "I think— I think he wants muggleborns to have wands. Maybe if we asked, he'd give them to you. I haven't figured out how to get them yet."
The trepidation turned to excitement. She passed her wand around. It let out jagged blue sparks when Katie clutched it, and they all laughed.
"This needs to be kept secret," she said. "If I teach you magic, you absolutely can't get caught, or we'll probably never get to see each other again. We all need to agree, understanding the risks, or we can't do it."
They glanced at each other, fearful once again. The thought of ending their lessons clenched her heart. She didn't know if she could have survived the manor all these years— lonely and bored— without them. Theo was her brother, but he didn't understand what it meant to be a muggleborn. Katie, Julie, Dean, and Finch were more than siblings. They had the same beating heart. They all faced the same fate, the same sacrifices and fears. They were all denied the same things, scraping magical leftovers off nearly empty plates to satisfy the starvation.
"I'm in," Katie said.
"Me too." Dean gave a fierce smile.
"I'll do whatever you guys do. I'd never tell a soul. Even if I was caught, I'd never betray any of you." Finch's eyes looked suspiciously red, as if he might cry.
"You already know my answer," Julie said.
Hermione shivered with the danger of what they did, but it didn't stem from fear. A thrilling zip of energy, similar to magic, erupted in her veins.
"Perfect," she said. She grabbed the bag she'd brought up, took out four sticks she'd found— as straight and strong as she could find— and passed them out. "Until we can get proper wands, we can practice the movements and words."
She pulled out the first curriculum Titus gave her. Raising her head, she met the eager eyes of her friends. They already held the sticks aloft. The energy shifted into something with gravity. It tugged them all into sudden orbit, spinning around each other.
"We're the Coven of the Tree," Julie whispered. It was a stupid, ridiculous name, but no one laughed.
Hermione brought up her wand.
"The first charm we'll learn is Alohomora. It's used to unlock doors, though it's useless against wards."
"Alohomora," her friends repeated, copying her movements.
They practised until perfection.
Right before Theo went back to Hogwarts for his seventh and final year, Hermione had him against the wall with her wand at his neck.
"What did you promise him?" she demanded.
"You don't have to do it." Theo reached up and shoved the wand aside, knowing she wouldn't harm him even if she really, really, really wanted to. "I didn't promise him anything. He just presented the offer, and I said I'd ask you. I thought— well, I thought you'd want to. You wore that stupid smile after the astronomy tower. I just assumed—"
"You just assumed I'd sell him a few kisses, so you'd get a spot on the team."
"Merlin, Hermione, forget I said anything. You know I didn't sell your kisses. He just wants some time alone again. He said if you agreed, he'd let me be a chaser." He looked at her with his stupid pleading eyes, barely blinking his long eyelashes. "Please, Hermione. It's my last year to get on the team. He just wants thirty minutes after each game to have a date."
"What's a date?"
Theo shrugged.
"Just food, snacks. Something to do. It's not serious."
Hermione rolled her eyes. She doubted Draco had innocent endeavours in mind. It should disgust her, but the thought lit a fire under her skin, almost painful.
She still felt his lips on hers. How he dipped down, brushing his mouth against her neck. She wanted to experience it again, despite her protests. Wanted something she didn't have a name for, but that Draco offered to provide.
"Alright." She found it hard to contain her grin. "I'll do it, but it will be on your head if we're caught."
Theo grimaced but nodded. A year of quidditch was apparently worth the risk of possible disembowelment.
Theo leaned over and gave a kiss to her cheek.
"If he tries to push you to do things you're not comfortable with, the deal will end. I'd rather give up quidditch forever if it meant keeping you safe. Only do this if you want time with him."
Hermione paused.
"Why are you okay with me being alone with Draco?"
Theo looked introspective.
"I just— I think you deserve to date a boy you like, a boy you choose, before—before—"
Before I have to live with a man I have no choice in. A familiar burning started behind her eyes.
"Thanks, Theo."
He gave her a fierce hug, showing her his love.
Later, she lay in bed, thinking of Draco and wondering what it would feel like for his hands to trail down her back the way she saw Titus do to a woman who came over last year. She'd accidently watched as they began to kiss. He'd led the woman backward into his room, pulled her legs up to wrap around his waist, and pushed her dress up with his hands on her thighs, slamming the door behind him. It replayed in her mind sometimes at night, and she imagined herself with different people, but most often with Draco.
In the past year, the fluttering feelings began to get intense, a pain low in her belly. Often it started while watching Titus practice duelling. He'd shed his outer robes, leaving his chest bare. By the end, sweat dripped down the hard planes of his chest.
She'd never seen anyone as fast as him with a wand. He wasn't the most powerful, but he'd curse before his opponent could think of what to cast. It looked like dancing when he was in full training mode: twirl, duck, lunge, with his face set in a dark scowl, as if imagining the Order in front of him.
By the end, she'd always travel back to her room, body tingling. She'd lay in her bed in agony, giving a tempered scream of frustration. Her body needed something, raw with nerves, but she didn't know what or how to make it better.
One day she pressed the skin under her knickers by accident, and a jolt of pleasure went through her. A moment later, she put her hand down as an experiment, trying again. The pleasure arrived a second time, more intense. It felt wrong, dirty. Why was she touching herself down there? But she couldn't stop, chasing the sudden sharp release that happened if she did it enough, followed by a relaxed, pleasant state. She'd do this almost every night, addicted to the feeling. She suspected it mimicked sex. Hermione couldn't find books on it anywhere in the library, but Katie told her enough, and her imagination filled in the rest.
Theo was right. She deserved to be kissed. Deserved to be touched by choice.
And she refused to wait until the Trials.
In September, her muggleborn friends arrived for her eighteenth birthday party. Tabitha made a delicious cake, and the elves created edible flowers sprouting along the icing. After food and cake, her friends went home, excited for the weekend to be over to see each other again.
Much later, she sat in front of the fireplace on a couch next to Titus to open gifts. She unwrapped a new dress from Julie, a chilled cauldron cake from Dean, a bookmark charmed to look up definitions on command from Katie, and a book on entomology from Finch.
"Here's Theo's present. He sent it with an owl yesterday." Titus pushed a package into her hands, and she opened the blue fabric eagerly.
"Hogwarts, a History," she said with a gasp. "And it's a first edition! How did he find one?"
Titus gave a sly grin, placing his arm along the back of the couch near her shoulder.
"A lot of sleuthing, some generous donations, and some unethical bribery."
Hermione looked up from her book.
"I hope you didn't spend too much on it."
"Too much? I'd package you the universe, if I could. You only need to ask."
The air felt different for some reason, and she couldn't define it. The fire burned hotter. She wished to adjust the collar on her dress.
She looked up and met his eyes. He stared at her in a funny way, as if wrestling something in his mind.
"I know you haven't been looking forward to today," he said.
Hermione looked back down. She picked at the fabric of her dress.
"No," she whispered. "I don't think I'm ready for the Trials."
"I don't think you are either."
The thought of a baby growing in her stomach only made her feel revulsion. Maybe someday she'd want one, but she felt too young, too inexperienced.
"Can I ask you a favour?"
"Sure," Titus answered.
"I know I have to do my duty, and I will. I just—you told me once I wouldn't have to enter the Trials until twenty-one. Could I wait until then? I don't want to leave yet."
Titus' gaze pierced her, pulling her apart.
"You might change your mind once all your friends go through it."
After the Trials, breeders weren't allowed to talk to unmatched muggleborns. Katie was supposed to leave by Easter, and she wouldn't get to see her until she went through her own. Titus was right—she'd be incredibly lonely.
"Maybe," she said. "But I'd still like the choice."
Titus reached out and grabbed one of her curls that stuck to the back of the couch. He picked it up and examined it, giving a little twirl around his finger. Hermione froze, and then he dropped it, standing up while shaking his head. He walked over and touched the fireplace mantle with a sudden frown and then straightened. "I'm excited to see your face when you see the present I got you. Follow me."
Hermione stood up and followed him back to her room. She raised an eyebrow at him when he opened her door and ushered her inside.
On her bed, curled in a little orange ball, was a tiny kitten.
Everything inside Hermione melted at once.
"You got me a cat!"
She used to beg him for a pet, but he never budged on getting one.
"He's half-kneazle. A familiar. I know you were upset when I said you couldn't have an owl, so I thought it might be nice to have something similar."
"What's his name?"
"The shopkeepers called him Crookshanks, but you can change his name, of course."
"No." Hermione walked over and picked up the creature. He cracked one eye open in annoyance, looking like a grumpy old man. "No, I think he's perfect." She cuddled him close. "Truly, this is the best present."
He gave a soft smile, eyes roving over her as she stood there cuddling her new kitten.
"Happy birthday." He moved to walk out but placed a hand on the doorframe. The Nott signet ring clicked against the wood. "You don't need to worry."
"About what?"
"I promise I won't make you enter into the Trials until you feel more ready. You can wait until the last day possible, if you'd like. I certainly won't be complaining about keeping my Sprite a bit longer."
For the first time all day, Hermione felt like she could take a breath.
A/N: Now that she's of age for the trials, I'll soon start knocking down the dominos. However, don't expect a quick change in Hermione. She's a young girl trapped in a system rigged against her. Even though she's strong, she's just a normal teenager. She doesn't know anything else besides this life. Even if she feels like something is wrong, she doesn't know why it's wrong or how to stop it… yet.
