Self-Writing Parchment
"… and in seventy-two more the one who wins will die by the wand of the one he defeated…"
"…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…"
Both from Professor Sybill Trelawney's prophecies
As I've said, I abhor violence and abuse toward children – anyone actually. I know that the abuse if hard to read – it is hard to type – but thank you for sticking with me.
I'm sorry for any and all typos – I'm owning up to them.
~beaweasley2
Seventy-Two Commences
~ o 51 o ~
~C~
The revelations he'd overheard were spinning in Cillian's thoughts as the four of them climbed up the spiraling stairs. There were too many spells that could destroy them – the castle's army. So, he made snakes, lots of snakes, that could defend the castle through all the passageways into the castle – through the plumbing.
This diadem Hermine wanted to find – one of His Horcruxes – is the last one, thank Merlin. Hidden in a room on the seventh floor. Only three towers rose up seven floors: Ravenclaw and Gryffindor towers, and the astronomy tower. 'It's in the room my Rowena Ravenclaw created,' the Ravenclaw House ghost had said. Ravenclaw Tower. One you have to ask to enter… bloody Ravenclaws and their riddles.
Cillian knew Hermione was searching for a Horcrux by researching the histories of the founders. It was one of the reasons his old friend wanted Hermione to be allowed to roam the castle; it was imperative that she find it. He knew that Ginevra – Ginny – was in contact with Potter and her brother, Ronald, and it was to be allowed as long as the Dark Lord didn't find out. He was to allow it, and he protected Hermione – both of them – the best he could. Which was why having Nott and Schlinder following her helped.
But Thaddeus Nott, Theodore's father, was a calculating, malevolent and strong wizard. He was one of the first devout Knights of Walpurgis, having been a classmate of the Dark Lord. So was his brother, Tiberius, an arrogant, manipulative and malevolent wizard with a penchant for dangerous hexes. Theodore might be weedy-looking and easy to dismiss as a loner, but he was smart, capable and a natural leader without needing to be obvious or overt. He was also very capable with manipulation spells, hexes and jinxes.
Schlinder was an enigma; bookish, excellent memory, well-traveled and knowledgeable in magical and Muggle histories, languages, as well as ancient spells and magic. His father had been a representative for the Internationaler Verband der Zauberer – the International Confederation of Wizards German seat but now worked in International Magical Cooperation as head of Prussia and Austrian-Hungary relations, and he still dealt in the diplomatic and trade circles of the Slavic and Mediterranean countries. Why the family relocated to England was unknown, but his vast contacts and wealth were very appealing among the Dark Lord's more influential brethren, affording the boy a level of protection. For now.
But that wasn't the biggest revelation: Hermione had been in the Chamber of Secrets – but if these boys had been as well… He'd discuss this with Severus tonight. 'Harry is a Parselmouth, he could hear the basilisk,' she'd said. He'd heard about the basilisk of course but thought Lockheart had dealt with it – and then lost his memory. He never believed Potter could have killed the monster. 'The basilisk was using the pipes – the plumbing.' Merlin's beard what has happened to the school? That all this was going on and students – students had been involved… Hermione – with Potter – a basilisk that roamed the plumbing? The thought caused him to stumble a little, stubbing his toe on one of the spiral steps.
Once he, Hermione and the two boys all left the winding stairs into the fifth-floor corridor and were safely headed toward the main staircases, Cillian demanded firmly that Nott and Schlinder return to their common room. At once. "I'll see to Hermione," he growled. The two left without complaint, Schlinder carrying several old journals, including the one he'd quoted from; "He mentions that he made snakes, lots of snakes, that could defend the castle through all the passageways" and apparently the plumbing, too…" Just what he and Severus needed – more problems to deal with.
It was late. He didn't care.
He looked up and spotted Draco approaching and waved him over impatiently. Cillian flicked his wand and opened a door to an empty classroom. "Get inside – now!" he barked at Hermione. He shut the door after the three of them quietly and made the door latch meld into stone, sealing the room.
He rounded on Hermione and stared down at her, his gaze cold and hard. "I can't believe – of all the idiotic, self-centered… the Chamber of Secrets! You've exposed the Chamber of Secrets – opened it – and it has snakes!" he snapped angrily.
"Yes I've— we've," Hermione started to say, indicating Draco and herself, "have been in the Chamber of Secrets. There was a basilisk – but it's dead."
"So what snakes was Mr. Schlinder talking about?"
"There aren't any snakes – not live ones, anyway. The only ones in there are sculptured snakes along the walkway," Draco said helpfully.
"And the basilisk used the plumbing of the castle to attack students?" Cillian asked in disbelief. He'd heard rumors, but he had no idea they were all true. "Why didn't Dumbledore do anything about it?"
"He did—" Hermione started to explain but Draco cut her off. "She and Potter thought they could solve the problem themselves – her, Potter and Weasley."
"So those rumors were true?" Cillian asked. "IS that why you went down there, to see if the Horcrux was in there?"
"Yes," Hermione said. "But it isn't."
She and Severus believed it was here in the castle – even Professor Dumbledore's magical likeness thought so – and they were right. It was. "Have you taken Messrs. Nott and Schlinder into the Chamber?"
"No, I haven't," Hermine replied.
"But you've involved ghosts as well as Nott and Schindler in your pursuit of the Horcrux!" He stared at her sharply. And you're jumping off moving staircases – With. Out. A Wand! Are you trying to get yourself killed?"
"I knew you'd use the Slowing Charm on me – to catch me—" she started to say but paused at his furious scowl. "You did, you know."
"That's. Not. The. Point! Do you have any idea how incredibly irresponsible you've been, traipsing around the castle – dragging Messrs. Schindler and Nott into your hunt for the Dark Lord's Horcrux?!"
"They know about Horcruxes – all about them!"
"So do I!" Draco snapped.
"That's beside the point!" Cillian nearly shouted. "Have you any notion how much your carelessly brash behavior could put us – all of us," he indicated Draco and himself, "in peril? Or have you forgotten the Dark Lord oversees the school and the board of governors, Hermione, and we – Severus, Draco and I – oversee keeping you in line!" he snarled, anger.
"They won't tell—" she tried to defend their inclusion, but this time it was Draco that cut her off.
"They cannot hide their memories of your escapades from the Dark Lord, Hermione. They were never taught Occlumency!"
Hermione's eyes widened. She hadn't thought to consider that; she thought they were safe here and… She didn't think they'd be pulled from the school.
Draco gave her a condescending look. "You didn't think to consider that, did you? You shouldn't have taken them to our room and shown them Salazar's writings. You shouldn't have asked them about the Horcruxes, nor involved them in this hunt. I can't believe you'd behave the Potter always did – with no regard to anything or anyone but yourself."
"And now you've told them you'll take them into the Chamber of Secrets?" Cillian stated. "I can't allow that. Hermione."
"The Dark Lord opened the Chamber before – when he was here as a student – that Ghost, Myrtle, told me. I know you knew that as well. You and Potter must have discussed every detail of what happened down there after he and Weasley rescued Ginny. But I thought you'd have more common sense! Tom Riddle – the Dark Lord, Hermione – opened that Chamber. He knows about it," Draco said, his old attitude rising up. He inhaled deeply.
"Look, I believe you – still do – that Potter can defeat the Dark Lord, if by nothing else than shear dumb luck and help from his friends. But I'm sticking out my neck because Severus assured me you can Occlude your mind from him – and have blocked the Dark Lord." He swung his arm up at the door. "But They Can't!"
Her eyes showed the hurt she felt. "So, we keep them here."
"How? They are Marked! If they are Summoned they will have to go," Draco snapped, his hand curled into fists.
"We can make them sick – or unconscious," she suggested.
Draco shook his head and Cillian scowled at her.
"Curse them, poison – no… something—"
Cillian couldn't believe her naïveté even after having been in his presence. "He doesn't care about his followers being incapacitated – he doesn't have patience anymore. If they don't go, he will kill someone else – a family member – for their insubordination."
"If you're one shade of death he can't hold that against them," she argued.
"We'll see what Severus says on the matter," Cillian stated and reversed his spell on the door latch.
~S~
Severus sat patiently at his desk and listened to his friend explain what he'd overheard and his concerns. Cillian was so angry he paced the office, fiddling with the magical astrolabe that had snatched off a bookshelf.
After Cillian had his say, Severus turned toward Hermione. "All right, Hermione, the Horcrux that the Dark Lord hid in the castle – have you identified the object yet?" Severus asked.
Hermione stared at him in shock.
"Did you really think I'd allow you to roam freely about the castle and not know what you've been up to or where you've been? I'm headmaster of the school; every portrait, every ghost – even the House-elves – report to me. I have eyes and ears everywhere," he pointed over his shoulder at the sleeping image of Albus Dumbledore, "just as he did and every headmaster and headmistress before me." His hand dropped casually, and he clasped his hands in front of him. "Did you not find it quite lucky that you did not run afoul with any of the staff or security wizards – or the students that favor the Dark Lord and the Carrows?"
"You, knew?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide.
"You haven't confided in me as I'd hoped, but yes, you are always followed, albeit discreetly," Severus replied. "House-elves are very good at not being seen and can easily confound others to go another way. They can also hear each other from great distances. Peren also assisted me today, since she is as concerned for your safety as I am." Not to mention he held a certain level of sway over Peeves, who'd been told under no uncertain terms was he to bother Hermione or her friends.
He could see in her eyes a look of betrayal – that changed into one of understanding of the magical intervention the House-elves following her must have been providing. "I should thank the elf that followed me," she said, still astounded.
"You just did – I'm certain they heard you," Severus stated. She looked up and he smirked. "There were several, as well as Peren here, relaying messages to me." He turned his head to look at Peren's face peeking around the corner of his desk. "All of them performed admirably and have my gratitude."
Peren gave a little hum of joy as her face lit up at the compliment.
"They were to assure you were unincumbered in your search. So, I'll ask you again – Did you identify the Horcrux hidden in the castle," Severus asked.
"Yes, I have. It's Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem," she replied.
"Ah, so I was right," Dumbledore's painted likeness said smugly. "And my dear, have you discovered where Tom hid it?"
Hermione looked up at the portrait. "Yes and no. The problem isn't where he hid it but how he did so."
"You must know what to ask for," Cillian added, putting the astrolabe back onto its shelf. "It's in a room Rowena Ravenclaw created. 'If you must ask, you will never know. If you know, you need only ask," he repeated, mocking the ghost with derision. "Bloody Ravenclaws and their penchant for riddles." Several portraits scowled. Professor Vayne Hickenwerth, placing her hand on the geranium threadwork of her dark blue robes, gasped, "Well, I never," out loud in admonishment.
"Riddles are a fun way of testing your logical thinking and…?"
"Yes, she knows where it is," Cillian pointed his finger at Hermione, "but how we get it is another matter since she doesn't know what to ask for."
"And that is what we shall have to determine, isn't it?" Dumbledore's image asked.
"And we shall," Severus said as he stood up. "But not tonight. It's late and she has lessons tomorrow." Hermione turned her head sharply, scowling at him. "I have other matters I need to discuss with her."
Cillian, although not satisfied, his pent-up agitation obviously not stated, nodded. "Good night then," he replied curtly and stormed out.
"I'm not at all pleased you've included Messrs. Nott and Schlinder in your Horcrux hunt, Hermione." Severus stood and walked around his desk to stand directly in front of her. "Cillian's right, neither boy can Occlude their thoughts from the Dark Lord, and although he hasn't summoned you lately, or them for that matter, he could at any time he wanted. I'm seriously aggrieved at your lack of judgement."
Hermione looked down at his buttons. "I thought—"
"No, you did not consider this when you involved them," Severus said as he put a finger under her chin to make her look up at him, "and what has either boy told you that Cillian, Draco or I couldn't or haven't informed you? I believe Draco gave you enough information into what they are and how they're created. You and Potter have identified how to destroy them. So now I'll have to Obliviate their memories in a way the Dark Lord won't discern the modification."
"Do you really have to? Seriously, they couldn't be in the hospital if summoned. If they are incapacitated, they wouldn't be able to go," she tried to reason.
"The Dark Lord is not happy with how his takeover is progressing. The ogres and giants remember the last time they fought for him, as do the vampires, hags and harpies. Their numbers were all greatly reduced in the aftermath pursuits, and most don't want to be involved again. Likewise, many of his previous supporters were much happier in the calm years before his recent return and are not flocking to him as before. Don't get me wrong, he has a large following, enough for an army, but threats only gain you so much. Dumbledore's Order members, including your friends in Potter's army, and the Aurors who side with them have been fighting all year, doing what they can, but those still in the Ministry are struggling to keep their activities unnoticed and stay alive. The Dark Lord uses his followers' gold to pay Snatchers to hunt down all who resist him, and they are quite successful. Everyone you knew is either dead, Kissed, or in hiding."
She nodded, the distant dazed expression as she listened and thought over what he'd said recognizable to him from years of teaching her began to sharpen and the corner of her mouth quirked. When she looked up at him again he saw hope in her eyes. Good.
"Not everyone I knew. Ginny is right, people are resisting, though. There are families in hiding, sure, not everyone is a fighter. But Harry has support – Dumbledore's Army is still fighting. The Weasleys are standing up and fighting – as are others. Resistance isn't futile and the tighter the Dark Lord tightens his grip the more people will slip through his fingers."
"Quoting movies, are we?" Severus said, drooly, but she had a point. He still battled with indecision; however, he too had turned to Dumbledore – even began to believe the old wizard. Yes, there is resistance, but would it be enough. Only if the Horcruxes were all destroyed would the Dark Lord be vulnerable, and only then could he be defeated. Only then would his followers and supporters break. The aftermath of the war would be far reaching and less forgiving, he feared. He looked into her eyes, feeling her unwavering hope and belief in Potter with a swift, gentle Legilimens sweep. He wished he shared her certainty. "Let's go up, Hermione, it's been a very long day for both of us."
He followed Hermine up the stairs, stopping her before she moved toward the sofa. Taking her hand, he sat down first and pulled her onto his lap. Still holding her hand, he studied her face. "Dumbledore never told me how many. I knew about the diary, ring and locket."
"The cup, the diadem, and his snake," she added.
But not Harry. The scar. He nodded, remembering Dumbledore's words, 'There will come a time when Lord Voldemort will seem to fear for the life of his snake… Part of Lord Voldemort lives inside Harry.' Which explained why the boy is a Parselmouth and the reason he has his connection with the Dark Lord's mind. That fragment of soul, the unintentionally created Horcrux the Dark Lord didn't know about, attached to and protected by Potter, meant the Dark Lord couldn't die.'…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…' Unless Potter died. And he had to wait until the right time, according to Dumbledore, until all but Nagini and Harry himself were left. Harry was to be told only then.
"Are you all right?"
He looked up from their clasped hands to her eyes. Those lovely eyes. "Yes, just thinking. So, this diadem is the last one you need?" Seventy-two more – but how much more? It seemed illogical to think it would be seventy-two days at this point. She's found out what the Horcrux is and where it's been hidden. it's a matter of hours, not days – hours. Seventy-two hours? Only two more days. Then what?
"…I have no idea when he put the diadem in the Room of Requirement, so until I do… Are you sure you're all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine," he replied. He cupped her face with his free hand and drew her toward him to kiss her. A long and lingering kiss, with all the passion he could give her. Hermione shifted on his lap, deepening their kiss and he wrapped his arms around her.
She pulled back, even though he didn't want her to. "I think maybe take this upstairs – to bed?"
He smiled, hoping the conflict in his thoughts didn't show as she slid off his lap and took his hand, leading him. He followed her, Seventy-two more repeating in his mind. Only seventy-two more. He wished it would be days or even months, even as much as he was glad that the servitude under the Dark Lord would be over in seventy-two hours.
~H~
After the weekend she'd had, Hermione was not looking forward to lessons this morning, which was very abnormal for her. Normally she loved her lessons, had always loved school, but her day was going to start out with anti-Muggle Studies (as her friends used to refer to the subject this year) and facing Alecto Carrow, which was never a good thing. Taking a deep breath and resolving herself to facing the bombardment of verbal abuse, she sat up to prepare for the worst. She was sore from last night, and wished she could take a quick bath, but the clock on the wall indicated she'd overslept and didn't have time.
As per usual, Peren had laid out her laundered and pressed school clothes and her school bag on the foot of her bed. Also as typical, Severus was not in the room, most likely having risen and would be down in his office dealing with the constant parchmentwork and morning owls. She smiled; considering all the… what had Cillian called it? her incredibly irresponsible thoughtlessness she'd been very surprised at how well Severus had accepted her… quest? But she'd found the Horcrux's location – sort of. But Hermione still had the problem of what to ask the room to give her to find the Horcrux.
Not to mention that all her friends were living in the Room of Requirement, which undoubtedly provided them exactly what they needed. To access the room herself, she had to ask them all to get out of the room. That thought alone made her heart drop. They'd be exposed. She closed her eyes and exhaled heavily, her shoulders dropping. It couldn't be helped.
Hermione pulled her mirror out of her trunk and tried to contact Ginny, but she didn't answer. Then she tried to use her Galleon. Twice. Okay, three times. Again, she didn't answer. No one answered. Hermione fell back on her pillows with an exasperated sigh. There was no other way for her to contact her friend. She sat up, resolved to try again between lessons. She carefully placed her galleon and her mirror into a pocket in her bag, the tiny one that Hermione managed to magically modify to hold them, then dressed for breakfast. She dreaded Muggle Studies. The rest of the day wouldn't be so bad, but facing Alecto Carrow was never a good thing. Hermione checked herself in the mirror on the wardrobe, inhaling deeply to fortify herself for what would come, and went down to Severus' office to go to the Great Hall for breakfast.
"These cuts were pretty deep, but I'll see what I can do," Immodine, dressed in St Mungo's healer trainee robes, said as she dabbed a golden-brown substance from a vial labeled, Essences of Dittany 'N Silphium, on the cuts on Hermione's hand where it rested on top a small trolly cart. Adrianna's nose wrinkled as the silvery green smoke billowed upward. Immodine noticed Hermine staring at the vial. "Wesley made this for dealing with Severing, Slashing and Tearing Curses to heal the lacerations. Silphium resin enhances the Dittany. I'm not sure where he obtained it. Muggles nearly ate the plant into extinction in the wild, and it's extremely rare. I don't know of any magical greenhouses that can grow the plant - something about 'black rain' and volcanic soil in Anatolia…"
It stung – a lot. Hermione turned her head and forced herself not to pull her hand away as the Healer worked. The hospital wing, still an impressive sized room, wasn't exactly teeming with wounded and cursed students, but there were still enough students being treated for various hexes, jinxes and curse spells – and many of the younger students suffering from miscast defensive spells and curses from Amycus' lessons.
"I can't believe Ms. Carrow used a Slashing Curse," she said softly, examining the freshly healed cuts sympathetically. Her use of Ms. instead of Professor was not lost on Hermione. "Your fingers mended well, you'll have full use of your hands, but these scars are permanent, I'm afraid."
"Battle scars," Hermione said.
Immodine applied a liberal amount of ointment to her skin and used her wand to create a thin seal, then wrapped gauze around Hermine's hand, while Adriana watched on beside her. "This is the best I can do. The ointment will keep the skin soft and supple, but leave the bandages on until morning."
Across the room, Theodore, Marek and Draco were waiting by the door. Cillian had left, most likely to tell Severus what happened. Not that she'd done – or said anything to warrant punishment. It didn't matter – her existence was enough for Alecto.
"You're too young for curse scars, but then the times we're in…" Immodine examined the two newly healed cuts on her cheek. "These will heal well, but the one on your jawline is…" She leaned back and shook her head. "I've done the best I can, but it's going to show."
"Really, it's all right – at least I still have all ten fingers," Hermione said, thankful, because her new Ministry approved book, The Baffling Asininity and Hypocrisy of Muggles, was horribly shredded from having blocked most of the curses Alecto had flung at her. She'd also have to ask Severus for a new quill before lunch.
"So, do I keep you here for lunch or send you out to the Great Hall?" Immodine asked, carefully piling the used gauze on her tray to take them away.
Hermione shut her eyes for a moment and sighed.
"Eating here then. I'll summon for a tray," Immodine said and instantly a large tray loaded with food appeared on the stand and plates, cups and silverware along with a big pitcher of Pumkin juice on the bedside table. "The House-elves like you," Immodine said and left with a chuckle.
"Thank you," Hermione said and then repeated a thank you to the House-elves for the food as Adrianna sat down next to her. "Shall we include the guys?"
"Might as well. We're not going to be able to eat all of this," Adrianna said and motioned to them to come over.
While eating Hermione tried to get Ginny's – well anyone's attention on her Galleon, between bites, but the coin remained inert on her palm. Sighing, she shoved it into her pocket and nibbled on a thick slice of ham from a sandwich.
In Potions, Professor Rodarte had them start by identifying the five potions which sat on the workbench on the wall near the professor's desk. The first was a dark Mediterranean blue potion simmering gently in a sliver cauldron, but very sharp, slightly metallic spikes rose straight upward from the surface. Hermione didn't know this one, so researching it would be her homework.
Another clear and colorless potion she identified easily as Veritaserum. Next to it was a potion that exuded an ice-blue, fog-like smoke. Hermione blew across the top of the cauldron expecting to see the mottled purplish brown of the Wolfsbane Potion, but this one was yellowish. Aconitum napellus, commonly called monkshood or aconite, had helmet shaped purple flowers, was the main ingredient in Wolfsbane Potion. But Aconitum lycoctonum or vulparia – Badger's bane, Bearbane, Foxbane… mixed with Arnica flowers were the main ingredients in Master Raymond's Respiratory Potion.
Beside Raymond's Respiratory Potion sat a transparent, icy blue potion that appeared to be boiling in a cast iron cauldron. The bubbles that emerged from deep within the potion rose up to burst several inches in the air above the rim. The other notable characteristic of the potion was that instead of heat, the potion gave off an immensely cold chill. Hermione wrote Crystal Ice Potion but wasn't sure.
The fifth was easy. It was a dull chartreuse potion emitting pale yellow bubbles. Fire-Retardant Solution. Very handy in fireproofing gloves and clothing from dragons, chimeras, and gameras, or as was the case in her fourth year, Blast-Ended Skrewts.
Another potion resembling boiling mud, similar to that used in mud baths, sat at the end. She was certain that it was called The Golem Concoction, the mud used to create a golem, but, looking back over the workbench, the professor said five, not six. She wrote it down anyway.
"Once you've identified the five potions I have here, take your seat," Professor Rodarte said from behind them. "You'll write a minimum of twenty-four-inch essays on each one, due Wednesday, when you'll be brewing one of them, yet to be determined. Today you'll be brewing the Drink of Despair. Your ingredients are already on your worktables."
Hermione listened to Professor Rodarte review the brewing instructions carefully. With most of the class gone, the seven remaining students each had their own workstations, which made brewing complicated potions more difficult since there was no one to help. Every step, each ingredient preparation had to be carefully timed so as not to ruin their potions – and no errors could be made in that timing.
"So, who can tell me what the effects of the Drink of Despair are and its identifying color?" her professor asked.
Hermione shot her hand up immediately having learned about this potion last year, since this what she thought Dumbledore drank before he died, the one Harry had to make him drink. What Dumbledore suffered, the intense pain, mental anguish and delirium and Dumbledore's extreme thirst – were the effects of the Drink of Despair. Except Harry had mentioned the Dark Lord's version of the potion was a phosphorescent emerald green and that it had also been cursed. Hermione agreed, but she thought there had to have been curses or Dark Arts spells on the font, not the potion itself, Harry didn't know about.
She smiled when Professor Rodarte called her name. "It should be a luminescent emerald green once the potion cools. Half a teaspoon of the potion would make the person who consumed it feel very depressed; a full teaspoon will give them a sense of utter despair, a complete despondency of any hope. A tablespoon and the victim will also hallucinate their darkest fears, and…" She suddenly remembered a wizard, Craig Braswell, wearing magical cuff restraints, being calmed by two Healers on the Janus Thickey Ward of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. "…or more increases the horrors, sending them into a mental spiral causing aftershocks of severe traumatic stress and anxiety, mental anguish and violence, hallucinations few ever recover from." The wizard, his name spelled Craigie in The Daily Prophet, had been given the Drink of Despair potion by Erikson Rowe, Thorfinn and Owain Rowle's brother – the same Owain Rowe who now sat at the Gryffindor table with MacCavish and Travers, talking rudely between themselves and laughing loudly at their jokes. She pushed the memory away.
However, Zabini spoke up, adding, "Give 'em enough and the victim will also have excruciating pain and delirium."
The other five Slytherin students, all Hermione's friends this year, turned their attention back to their Professor, making Zabini scowl, obviously not pleased by the lack of reaction.
"Yes, it does, but don't despair – I have the antidote at the ready," Professor Rodarte replied as he swung his hand behind him, indicating seven vials sitting in a rack on his workbench and breaking the tension. "Fifty points to Mrs. Snape for the correct answer. Carefully check your ingredients in the box provided for each of you, then you may begin."
Hermione remembered Severus' tip on crushing the sopophorous beans and then to add the ground Brugmansia seed pods, cork and all. Adding the next few ingredients of the potion were especially tricky, since the bubbles that formed tended to splatter near the completion of the potion, and they had to be extra careful not to get it on their skin. The last two had to be combined with even more care as they could be combustible if not added with exacting precision. It was no surprise that cleaning up at the end of class took much longer then they'd expected, because the residual had to be neutralized with the mud-like potion, then the entire worktable thoroughly cleaned for the next class. So much for her thinking it was the Golem Concoction; now she'd have to write an essay on that one too.
All seven of them had to run to Transfiguration to make it on time.
And since the Transfiguration lesson was focused on transfiguring part of themselves into an animal form (as Viktor had done in the lake event during the Tri Wizard Tournament) and then at lunch she'd been stuck sitting facing the Gryffindor table with MacCavish and Travers staring at her, and VanHalal across the table and two places up from her at the Slytherin table, she had no opportunity to use her coin or mirror.
She did try before Wizarding Language and Literature class, but the other students, mostly Ravenclaws, kept a watch on her, especially Morag McDougal and Malinda Greenburg who were both envious of Hermione affinity for the languages. Not to mention the Professor's praise of work on her personal translation project and the extra points she was given. Hermione hadn't told her professor they were Salazars' clay tablets from the Chamber of Secrets.
When Hermione turned in her workbook on the assignment, Malinda sneered at Professor van der Hauthe's comments at how well Hermione was at translating the languages for the lesson. "Swot," Malinda sneered as Hermione walked by her table.
"Pituitas nasti," Morag said maliciously behind Hermione's back, and Hermione felt the force of the curse hit her back.
Suddenly Hermione's nose became extremely swollen and congested and her eyes became watery. Great, pituita translates to phlegm or rheum – I've been hit with a head cold curse. But her condition worsened as excessive discharge made it difficult to breath properly, and she began to sneeze and cough. Cillian was by her side, handing her a handkerchief as she packed her things to go. He led Hermine back to the Hospital Wing.
"Mrs. Snape, back so soon?" she heard Madam Pomfrey say.
All Hermione could do was nod since all she could do was blow her nose and cough and hack up mucus because the cursed head cold was making it nearly impossible to breathe.
"Into bed with you and we'll get this sorted out," the kindly healer said, handing Hermione a box of tissues and a receptacle as three more students entered, coughing up mucus nodules in makeshift receptacles supported by their friends.
~S~
Severus found himself cornered in the first-floor corridor listening to Amycus and Alecto Carrow complain, again, about the vandalism of their classrooms.
"Alecto – her room isn' there. It's a bottomless bog, the entire floor is one of them as if you're outside in it. And there are dragon-like creatures floating on the surface with long tails and mouths full of teeth – hundreds of 'em – wicked sharp and snappin' at us… How are we to get rid of them – eh? And my room, it's full of these trees with sword-like thorns that came alive, slappin' an' stabbin' at me and Alecto," Amycus snarled angrily. "…and beside all that wha' about all them the humongous slugs with stingers and such that spurt flames? And they also made these repulsive crab-legged scorpion things with stingers and suckers… Are ya listen' to me?"
"I suggest you change classrooms again," Severus replied.
"We did! These are the new ones, Snape," Alecto admonished him. "How am I going to teach if my classrooms are always – well – not classrooms when I come back from the facilities?"
Bloody Weasley's and their Portable Swamp and Murky Bog kits. Severus turned his head when a distinctive cough came from the painting of Willems van der Pluym, one of Hogwarts earliest plumbers. Severus turned his head seeing a nurse standing in the frame in front of van der Pluym. "Agnes Mac Duinnshléibhe, Headmaster, I was sent to find you and report your wife is in the Hospital Wing."
He now recognized the nurse from her portrait which resided in the Hospital Wing. "How bad is it?" he asked.
"It's bad – she can hardly breathe," Madam Mac Duinnshléibhe stated.
"Amycus, there are two hundred empty classrooms in this castle, four on this floor. I suggest you and your sister use two of them," Severus stated as he turned to leave immediately. Madam Mac Duinnshléibhe followed him, slipping first into Hespia Guswinda's and then Cornelia Ryckman-Bryce's frames (both renowned witches of their centuries) giving him a full accounting of Hermione's distress, before disappearing."Certainly, the Healer can sort the girl out," Amycus protested as he tried to keep up with Severus.
"And we can't even get back into our offices – they're are gone," Amycus snarled. "We needs ta 'ave our office doors opened!"
"Then I suggest you open them," Severus said coolly, his attention on what could be ailing Hermione.
"I can't open what I can't even see! Those damn kids have done something; there's nothin' on the wall but a latch on solid rock."
"Then find a sledgehammer," Severus responded, taking the stairs two at a time and turning sharply on the landing to get to the hospital tower.
"Get out of my way," Severus snapped at the students in the corridor in a loud, clear, and commanding tone, making all the students in the corridor dive out of his way. His hurried, his urgent stride allowed him to practically glide across the stones, his robes billowing out behind him.
The Healer was giving directions to one of the Healer trainees as he approached. Both were using the Bubblehead Charm, which didn't bode well.
"Ah, Severus," she said, and he could see the relief crossing her face through the bubble incasing her head. He did, however, have to lean toward her to hear her clearly. "It's accidental magic, but we are able to reverse it. However, it does leave the victim with a nasty head cold. Miss Delgado is doing an admirable job relieving the congestion of Mrs. Snape's and Mr. Gwynek's sinuses, airways, lungs, and gastroesophageal tract, and I've added a Respiration Charm on both of them. However, I fear that the curse used on both of them created a magical virus of some sort that appears to be airborne since we have nineteen new cases of the same infection already, and unless those become infected get immediate treatment they could suffocate on the magical phlegm.
He applied his own charm for protection. "Is this a danger to the school?" Severus asked, projecting his baritone voice so that the Healer could hear him.
"It could be. I asked several House-elves to thoroughly clean the first, second and third-floor corridors and Professor van der Hauthe's classroom where I believe this outbreak originated and to use the Bubblehead Charm – or their version of it, but all students need to be quarantined immediately and the students and staff should use the Bubblehead Charm until this outbreak is contained."
Bloody hell. "I'll inform the Heads of House," he stated, keeping his anger in check, but he knew she could hear its inflection quite clearly in his tone. "If either Hermione or Cillian recalls who did this curse, I want to know immediately."
"Of course, Headmaster," she replied as eleven more students entered, sniffling and coughing up mucus into makeshift receptacles supported by their friends.
Severus noticed that the Hospital Wing expanded in anticipation of more students expected to come. He faced the portrait of Madam Mac Duinnshléibhe, finding Healer Eledora Bittlestrom in madam's fame as well. "I need both of you to inform the staff of the situation; all students are to remain in their common rooms for the rest of the evening, and all students and staff are to use the Bubblehead Charm for the duration of the lockdown – no exceptions."
"At once, Headmaster," Mac Duinnshléibhe said the same time Healer Eledora Bittlestrom replied, "At once, Headmaster."
He then called for Elvendork, matriarch of the Hogwarts House-elves, to meet him in the Healer's office. A lanky House-elf in tea towels with the Hogwarts crest appeared. "I's Wistla, Headmaster, Sir. Elvendork sends me," she said, bowing formally.
"We have an outbreak in Hogwarts. All the corridors and student dormitories are to be thoroughly cleaned, with special attention to all door latches, doorknobs and handrails – anything and everything students touch, and all bedding and hangings laundered. Also, all House-elves are to utilize the Bubblehead Charm immediately." He lowered his voice so only the House-elf could hear him. "But first, I want those students in the Come and Go Room appraised of the problem. They must stay put. I can't have them getting sick, but they must not know this comes from me."
Wistla's eyes widened, and she nodded slowly. "I wills, Headmaster, Sir. Immediatelys. Wistla is going myself Headmanster, Sir. Right away."
With that, Severus went to Hermione's bedside to find out who caused this outbreak, stepping around a new group of infected students being ushered to available beds. Hermine was in an isolation bubble around her bed, but she looked like was breathing easily enough. "Don't bother trying to talk," he said as he leaned over her. "Show me what happened."
She nodded, staring him in the eyes, openly. He slipped into her mind easily. As expected, her memory showed him Professor van der Hauthe's classroom. Miss Greenburg, from Ravenclaw, called Hermione a "Swot," as Hermione walked by Miss Greenburg's table – then Miss Morag McDougal, hissed "Pituitas nasti," behind Hermione's back. Not nasty, but nasti then, trying to be clever – and failing. He stood. "Thank you. Sleep. I'll be back to check on you."
She nodded, her emotions reflected in her watery eyes. As he left the hospital wind, Severus deducted one hundred points from Ravenclaw for Miss Morag McDougal's incompetent curse causing the outbreak, fifty for her incorrect Latin, and forty for hitting a student in the back of the head with a curse. He'd also assign her and Miss Greenburg detention helping Filch clean out the Blast-Ended Skrewts from Amycus' infested classroom. Fillius will be outraged, but he could make up the points for his house later.
~W~
Wistla immediately conjured a large bubble about her head and elf-apparated outside the Come and Go Room. Witla started to tiptoe along the wall a short way. As Elvendork's messenger, the matriarch would have listened to every word the Headmaster said, and she'd already be assigning what each elf was to do. With over a hundred elves they'd complete the Headmaster's order by morning. But Wistla was nervous. What if some of the Come and Goes Room occupants were not in the Come and Goes Room? Many of the students who took sanctuary in the room were sneaky. They learned almost all the passageways, secret stairways and hidden doorways in the castle, and they caused mischief against the mean ones, the new wizards and witch who had tortured the students until they couldn't take it anymore.
Not that Wistla minded helping the students within the Come and Goes Room. Between her, Dobby, Kreacher and Maisy, they helped the scared students as much as they could. Once everyone was in the Great Hall eating, the four of them would take foods and drinks to the students. Not as much food as the elves made for the Great Hall feasts and not as many choices, but plenty of food for the students who were in there.
She turned and tiptoed back, keeping her ears wide to hear any sound in the quiet corridor, being sure not to be seen by any of the Gryffindors or that horrible wizard with spiky brown-grey hair around his bald spot and cold reproachful eyes, or the mean caretaker who resented House-elves even though they did his laundry, cleaned his room and changed his cat's box sand – not to mention all the other places that conceited cat left her deposits.
An elf-sized door opened for her and Wistla hurried inside. Many of the students stopped to stare at her. "What, no food?" Mr. Finnigan asked with a grin.
Wistla liked Mr. Finnigan; he was funny. "I's to tells you somethings important," she said, but Messrs. Finnigan, Sloper and Macmillan looked confused or didn't hear her with her bubble in place, so she shouted what she'd said again.
"All right, what is it?" Mr. Finnigan asked.
Wistla took a deep breath and shouted out her message. "There is a sickness in the castle – a very bad sickness. One that makes you not able to breathe so you dies! You musts remain in here until its contained, Sirs. It's not safe for any of you to go out in the castle now. You mustn't gets sicks, Sir, any of you."
Mr. Finnigan opened his mouth, but Wistla continued. "You must all wears bubbles. Alls the time, in cases. We's can'ts helps you if yous gets sick, and you cannots go to the hospital room for help."
Mr. Finnigan nodded as Mr. Macmillan shouted out what Wistla said. Wistla was very happy to see bubbles appear on all the students' heads. They took her seriously. But there were a few faces she didn't see, ones that always came to the door. "Where is Miss Weasley and Mr. Longbottom, Sir?" she asked. "I's don't see Misses Enfield or Weston… are they nots here, Sir?"
"I got it," Mr. Macmillan said, turning slightly to his left. He pulled out what looked like layered discs with four movable hands, the disc having letters, symbols or measured markings… He was moving the hands rapidly. Suddenly the two hands he hadn't used moved freely. Wistla wished she could see the device more clearly to see what it did, then picked up a shoe laying near her and began to hit herself for her impertinence.
Mr. Finnigan grabbed the shoe, making Wistla hit her nose. "What's for dinner, then?" he asked.
Wislta was momentarily confused, then smiled. "We's making you lamb stew with carrots, parsnips, onions, peas and potatoes, and fresh breads and cheeses, Sirs. We's brings it as soon as we can, Sirs."
With the Headmaster's task taken care of, Wistla elf-apparated for the kitchens.
~N~
Narcissa stretched her arms and cringed at the pain in her back, neck and shoulders, remnants of her most recent abuse. She rose from her small double bed and walked to the window, not at all surprised she'd awoken before the sun. The view of misty dark shapes of her landscape against the gradual change of the predawn sky from the window was quietly serene but didn't promise her a good day.
At least all the Manor's occupants would be asleep, especially the werewolves, Greyback, Margolis, Bayne, who would wake around noon, nursing wounds and demanding steaks for breakfast. She hated that those flea-bitten mongrels roamed the halls, slept in the guest wing and ate at her table. The other 'guests' would likewise be sleeping in, waking up with hangovers from last night's debauchery on Lestrange liquor. The Dark Lord would be awake, but where in the manor that might be, she didn't know – didn't care.
Lucius grew up in this magnificent mansion, his ancestral home, which was the seat of the Malfoy family for a thousand years. Their home – that once only entertained the elite of the wizarding world, foreign dignitaries and ministers – now held the subservient subordinates of the Dark Lord. The magically weak, the dregs and dissidents of wizarding society, the derelict outcasts, and the destitute – any who swore allegiance and claimed proper magical heritage, found themselves elevated under the Dark Lord's protection. Many of the most impoverished, those whose hovels and decrepit shacks with bug infested beds felt living here in her home was their right – their privilege to have luxuriant furnishings, plentiful food and clean clothes. On more than one occasion these egotistical and pompous men would try and force their advances on Narcissa, thinking that they were entitled to since her once-esteemed husband was in disfavor – as low as he could be without being killed by the Dark Lord or eaten by his snake – and that she was now to lowly to refuse such advances. When refuted, these scabby followers, they became angry, belligerent and sometimes violent – some used curses and spells to make her comply, but not the Imperious. Narcissa knew how to repel the curse. But they were right – she had little protection in her own home.
Narcissa turned and caught her reflection in the mirror. Still, beautiful with her vivid blue eyes and long luxurious platinum blonde hair, however she refused to hide her bruises, cuts and curse markings. She refused to cower. She refused to give in. She was a Black before becoming a Malfoy. One still graceful hand smoothed the fabric of her night gown over her abdomen. A child, Lucius' child. Bellatrix was also pregnant – but who the father was, was anyone's guess. She hadn't participated in the New Year's Revel breeding as the other women were forced to do. But Narcissa had her suspicions. Rodolphus was not a tolerant man; only one wizard could bed his wife and not find himself dead at the wizard's feet: the Dark Lord.
A slight tremor in the wardrobe caught her attention. Eldora, Peren's mother, had taken to sleeping in the wardrobe of this room, Draco's nursery, to keep away from the occupants of the manor, so Narcissa had been using this room as well. Like her, Eldora was pregnant with the 'next generation' to serve the great house of Malfoy. With Lucius first having freed Dobby, and then her error in releasing Peren to Hermoine, the loss of few old ones who didn't escape the Dark Lord's snake, poor Eldora, ancient Beaty and old Judder were the only ones left. They knew how to keep themselves scarce, and Narcissa allowed their slips in household maintenance.
But this – this was not how she thought things would be. Where Lucius used to look down his nose at lesser wizards, he now groveled to try and regain their acceptance. A mere filthy shade of the wizard he used to be – still somewhat emancipated, poorly groomed, wandless – not much improved from when he was released from Azkaban.
Lucius knew about the Dark Lord from his father. Abraxas was two years behind the Dark Lord, then Tom Riddle, at Hogwarts. Naturally, Abraxas looked up to the charismatic brilliant young wizard and his tremendous magical achievements, who, in secret and among his 'inner circle,' was already going by Lord Voldemort. Abraxas Malfoy was a cold, brutal and exacting man, harsh in his ways, and Lucius, aways wanting to please his father, grew up to be like him. Naturally when Lucius left Hogwarts, Abraxas was pleased with his son's desire to join the Death Eaters – even arranged his son's initiation. Now Lucius' son outshone the father. Where Lucius was once lord of his manor, his family, he had been horrible toward Draco. Now Lucius begged for his son's help, for a reply to a letter and support.
But Draco wasn't like his father; a bully at school, or so she'd been told by Professor McGonagall on occasion, but not a cold and brutal boy like Crabb's son. Thankfully, Draco was influenced by her, and she'd managed to maintain a balance for her son. All his correspondence came to her, on magical parchment and written in magical ink. Draco was concerned that whatever he was involved in might – would enrage the Dark Lord, make things harder for her. It frightened her, but her son repeatedly wrote that he now believed Potter could win – if only by sheer dumb luck, some unknown unforeseeable magic, or the support of his friends and others more talented than him. But such had been the case each time the Dark Lord faced off with Potter in the past.
Narcissa disliked Harry Potter, her son's school nemesis, and had no respect for his sidekick, Ron Weasley, especially since their deplorable first encounter in Madam Malkin's. Likewise, in each of Draco's letters home from previous years the boy had been an arrogant, mediocre wizard with a penchant for causing trouble in the school. Draco had hated him – until this year. This year he was helping… well, helping Mrs. Hermione Snape. For some reason, she had proven herself to Severus and Thaddeus Nott's boy, Theodore. In fact, Misses. Glenwrythe and Lockhaven and their friends had apparently befriended Mrs. Snape. Narcissa didn't see the appeal, but Mrs. Snape wasn't giving Draco grief this year – not as much as Potter had. In fact, Draco had said they'd become amicable – friends of a sort.
Curiously, once again Draco wanted to know if there were notable changes in the Dark Lord's personality since his break-in to the Lestrange vault. The Dark Lord had always been the most accomplished and prodigious wizard Narcissa had ever seen, extraordinarily knowledgeable of magic – especially in the Dark Arts. He had been a tall, dark-haired wizard with white, waxy skin possibly residual burn scars from magical curses and spells. His eyes were red around his black-blue irises and he had a somewhat flattened yet pinched nose. Powerful, commanding presence and the most knowledgeable intelligent wizard, yet also intimidating. She'd been in awe of him and fearful.
But since his return, his rebirth according to some who'd been in the graveyard, he was far more dangerous, far more narcissistic, more ruthless, more driven. However, he was also becoming more sadistic, short tempered, irrational, and crueler in his punishments and forms of cruelty, perceptive if one paid attention. He was still Machiavellian, but he was no longer hiding his true self. Still, even after almost two years of trying to gain supporters, to increase the number of followers, the Dark Lord's second rise wasn't how he'd expected. His numbers were still lower than he'd anticipated, and he thus far failed to attract the support of the Dark Beasts. Nevertheless, the Dark Lord was still assured of his eminent victory.
Then there was his all-consuming hatred and fixation on Mr. Potter, the one he seemed unable to kill. No, Narcissa didn't like Potter, but she had come to loathe the Dark Lord. So, for Draco's sake, Narcissa did whatever was needed to help her son, even if that meant betraying the Dark Lord.
~H~
Nearly everyone was discharged from the Hospital wing after being served breakfast and being checked carefully for residual symptoms of the horrible magical virus. Every student had a freshly laundered uniform at the foot of their cot. So, Hermione had no opportunity to try to contact Ginny until her break after Arithmancy. She slipped into the girls' loo and pulled out her mirror, wondering why the mirrors hadn't connected before. Exasperated, she went with Adriana, Amanda and Draco to the library.
In Herbology Professor Sprout had the class collect new keiki offshoots from Ogress' Devourer orchids. Ogress' Devourer orchids were in the family of creeper plants that fed on the unwary. It had splashes of purple in their leaves, purple stems, and beautiful yellow orchids with lavender stripes with a darker purple enlarged bottom labellum. These flowers emitted a mind-altering fragrance, luring in their victims. But they also had a mass of fringe consisting of contracted aerial roots which would shoot out to ensnare its victim with long thorned hooks in order to drink their blood.
While new keiki were genetically identical to their parent plant, they were far more efficacious magically. The keiki sprouted from nodes along the main parent stem and were used to create the antidote for wyvern poison.
Every student had to wear special masks, because the fragrance could penetrate the Bubblehead Charm and heavy overalls to protect their arms and legs. Cillian, who refused to wear the protective gear stayed at the far end of the work area, trying to fend off the Venomous Tentacula tendrils with lightly cast Stinging and Immobilizing Charms, and a few Electric Shock Jinxes for the more tenacious ones.
It was challenging handling the Ogress' Devourer orchids without angering the plant or getting their coveralls torn by its hooks, but Hermione, Daphne, Tracey and Draco managed well as a team, repairing the overalls as needed while they worked. Since Hermione didn't have her wand, she and Tracy were to try and gently separate the keiki from the parent plants, while Daphne and Draco tried to keep the aerial roots. At the end of class, they had collected fourteen keikies from their plants – twelve of them undamaged, although Draco said that the other two could be transplanted if not used. Apparently, his mother had two prize specimens of spiteful orchids. The ones on their worktable were still thrashing angrily at them to with their long-thorned hooks.
Professor Sprout turned to Crabbe, Pansy, Isabel McDougal and Goyle to check their basket, finding seven usable keikies and three crushed ones. "Not bad, not bad. These four are fine, these three are usable," she said, tossing the ruined three in a bin. "Twenty points to Slytherin." But when the professor checked the basket Daphne handed over, she smiled in delight. "Wonderful, wonderful and in excellent condition!" Professor Sprout exclaimed, checking the keikies. "Fifty points to each of you for well-done extractions."
"Figures the mud-dle gets it right," Pansy sneered, stopping herself from calling Hermione a Mudblood before the professor heard her.
"Like my sister said, perfect know-it-all snot," Isabel responded snidely.
Hermione turned, confused, then quickly realized Isabel was furious about the detention Severus gave her sister, Morag, and friend, Melinda, removing the Blast-Ended Skrewts from Amycus' classroom. According to Severus, how the creatures, ranging from newly hatched and up to six weeks old got there – well, how her friends had gotten them, was a mystery since the last Blast-Ended Skrewt set in the Tri Wizard Tournament maze had been terminated when the maze was taken down. Or so everyone thought. "I'm sorry about your sister and Melinda. I—"
"Shut it, Snotty," Pansy snapped, cutting her off. "Miss Perfect, aren't you? No one is allowed to touch you."
"But I—"
"Flipendo," Isabel said under her breath, but her spell had more force than anyone realized as Hermione was immediately knocked back and into the Venomous Tentacula. Draco and Goyle immediately drew their wands as they helped Cillian fight off the plant's tendrils to keep Hermione from being bitten by the fangs of the giant eyeless head and deadly spikes. Cillian and Goyle, being much more aggressive, severed and froze the shoots, killing the tendrils, while Goyle slashed way cutting them off. Professor Sprout, equally as concerned for her student as for her plant, shouting instructions as she helped detangle Hermione. Thankfully, Hermione hadn't removed her coveralls, so her whole body was protected, except half her neck and head.
"Immobulus!" shouted Daphne and Tracey simultaneously, and the large plant suddenly froze unmoving.
"Thank you, dears," Professor Sprout said and made quick work of extracting Hermione, who was now frozen still as well.
Cillian turned on Pansy and Isabel. "You both are to go to the headmaster's office immediately," he snarled.
"NO, they won't," Professor Sprout said, and for a moment Pansy and Isabel looked smug, until the Professor added, "They will remain here and help clean up this mess and repair the damage to my poor Tenacula. She'll need a proper pruning or she'll go into shock. Then they can go to the Headmaster's office, and I will escort them there personally."
Pansy's and Isabel's smug smiles turned to fury, but catching Professor Sprout's glare, they cast their eyes downward to seem repentant, although Hermione knew they were anything but.
"Fifty points to Slytherin, Misses Greengrass and Davis, for a welcomed assist. You too, Mr. Goyle, although I wish you'd been lighter of hand with those Slashing Cruses. The rest of you, off you go," Professor Sprout said, and everyone but Pansy and Isabel went to the shed to take off their protective gear.
Hermione looked up at Cillian as he helped her out of her coverall. "Let me guess, lunch in the hospital again?"
"You've a couple of scratches, Hermione, so yes, I want you checked out," Cillian stated. He looked back at the two facing the professor. "Damn, those girls."
"I hope the Dark Lord won't hear about this?" Draco said, tossing his mask in their storage trunk.
"Oh, he will," Cillian said, not bothering to hang Hermoine's coverall. "It will reach his ears. He was furious enough about the Snot Curse."
"Snot Curse? Let me guess who told him about that?" Draco asked as Goyle quietly picked it up her coverall and hung it on a peg.
"Amycus," Cillian stated. "That's one reason Headmaster Snape had to act so decisively, to appease the Dark Lord," he said a bit louder, so the other students heard him. "Let's go," he said to Hermione, and she and her Slytherin friends all walked up to the castle together.
~H~
She'd missed Ancient Runes, one of her favorite classes because she'd been scratched and poked by the Tenacula on her scalp and exposed skin after all. Literally, this has to be my worst week ever, she mused.
Luckily her new friends came through, and she not only got copies of the lesson notes but her assignments as well. And books, loads of books to help her.
However, Hermione, oddly, wasn't thinking about her schoolwork or her assignments, but about the problem of what Tom Riddle might have asked the Room of Requirement for to hide the diadem.
She fell back, her head landing on her pillow. She knew that all her friends, all those siding with Neville, Seamus and Ginny were in the Room of Requirement, and she might be able to get in, but it was too risky going up to the seventh-floor corridor. The Gryffindors still residing in their dormitory and attending classes were those who sided with or were in good standing with the Carrows and choosing to support the Dark Lord. They also gave Hermione the same unguarded disdainful and disgusted looks mimicked from the Carrows in lessons and in the Great Hall, regardless if Severus, Cillian or Professor McGonagall were with her.
Wandlessly she floated a vase up in the air above her and made it explode then repair itself before the shards fell onto her, repeating it over and over again.
"If you dislikes this vase, Mistress, Peren cans gets you another one," her House-elf said.
Hermione turned her head. "I'm sorry, Peren, it's not the vase. I'm frustrated."
"What is Mistress frustrated about? Did Peren nots do something correctly?" she asked, her ears drooping a bit.
"No, Peren, I'm delighted with you and your attention to my needs." Peren's smile at the compliment lifted Hermione's mood. "Did the Hogwarts' elves tell you about my – when I tried freeing them with hats and socks during my fifth year?"
Peren's happiness vanished as she stared aghast at her. "YOUS Didn't!"
"I'm afraid I did." She sat up, placing the vase in her lap. "I'm Muggleborn. I grew up thinking slavery – any kind of slavery – was wrong and needed to be abolished. Dobby was sooo happy to be freed." The crestfallen look in Peren's eyes broke her heart. "I didn't understand. I know now that serving someone is the greatest pleasure House-elves have. Being told they are a good House-elf is the highest compliment to them – and you. But I sometimes feel I'm taking you for granted, and you do so much without my realizing it, that I still feel guilty for owning you."
Peren's eyes widened in worry.
"Not that I'd ever give you clothes!" Her elf's immediate relief made her smile. "If I had yarn I could knit you a blanket."
"But yous frustrated by somethings?" Peren asked, apparently wanting to change the subject. "Something Peren cans do for you?"
Hermione shrugged, rolling the vase with her fingers. "I miss Ginny and my friends. I can't contact her – I've tried. I know where she is, but I can't go there."
"No! No, Mistress musts stays outs of the dungeons!" Peren stated.
"Dungeons?" Hermione asked, sitting up straighter, and Pern nodded earnestly. "You—? How do you—? Do you listen for Ginny?"
"I's, Dobby, Kreacher, Wistla and Maisy – we's hears all your friends, we's do," Peren said. "Master, Headmaster says we's cans so we's do. Master, Headmaster says we's can brings food to them when eveyones else is in the Great Hall eating as long as we's are not seen."
"But how? Don't the Carrows notice the amount of food you…? Don't they go into the kitchens?"
Peren lowered her head slightly. "They can'ts get in, Mistress," she replied. "Master, Headmaster tells us that only House-elves may be in kitchens. No students, no adults."
"Can you get a message to Ginny. I need to speak to her and it's urgent."
"I cans do this right away, Mistress," she replied and vanished with a barely discernable pop.
Not for the thousandth time did Hermione wish she could Apparate the House-elves could.
~G~
Ginny was startled when Kreacher suddenly appeared before her with the softest of cracks. "You wills not go outs," he said, holding up his hands, his head turned toward their exit. She was about to ask why she noticed how wide he held his ears, listening. She turned and signaled for everyone behind her to be silent. Suddenly, Kreacher gave an annoyed huff as Peren appeared in a muted pop on the step beside him.
Peren motioned Ginny to bend closer with her hand, so she leaned forward until she was almost nose to nose with her. "My Mistress needs to speaks to you urgently," Peren whispered softly.
"About what?" Ginny asked.
This passage from the cells near Filche's office to the Armour Gallery, allowed them to take the shortcut behind statue of Gerald Fitzgerald of Dunsinane (of Carse of Gowrie if you stood around long enough to hear him tell of his exploits) across the castle to the Charms Corridor on the third floor between the Charms Classroom and Professor Flitwick's office. The vile stench from the bog capsules and dung bombs they'd set off in the cells were already permeating the air behind her. Hopefully Ernie managed to get what they'd needed from Filch's office.
"Peren cannots say. But yous musts contact my Mistress. It is urgent," she persisted.
This was not a good time for this. She could hear several discreetly cast Bubble Charms from her friends, covering them from head to hips to avoid the smells. She turned to face Seamus. "I'm going to the third-floor corridor, I'll meet you in the room later."
Seamus nodded, his response muffled by his own bubble enclosure.
Ginny leaned down by Peren again. "Tell Hermione to meet me in the room with a trap door on the floor," then stood and cast her own bubble protection, and waited for Kreacher to give the okay to leave. Once everyone was off running, Ginny transformed into her squirrel form and ran for the room, keeping close to the walls and along the edges of the tapestries as much as possible.
Slipping inside the room was easy since hardly anyone came this way at all. She opened the trap door and levitated several thick branches of the dead Devil's Snare into the room and fashioned a pair of reasonably comfortable chairs. She turned, wand at the ready as Hermione's ferret, accompanied by Peren, entered the room. Ginny quickly locked and secured the door as Hermione transformed back into her human form.
"My gods, Gin, what's happened to you?" Hermione exclaimed.
"Look a fright. do I?" she asked, giving Hermione a quick hug. "Defying Death Eaters, protecting kids, doing a few raids of our own – the usual stuff. You? How have you been?" At least Hermione appeared well – except for a new scar on her jaw. She knew of course, Immodine Clearwater and Genevieve Byrne were hiding out in the Hospital Wing in Healer trainee robes. Immodine's sister, Romanda, was in the Room Of Requirement, but Genevieve's sister, Scarlett, sided with the Carrows. Nevertheless, both sets of sisters kept in touch, except with Scarlett thinking that her sister was of the same mindset as her.
"I figured out the diadem Horcrux," Hermione said, still looking at Ginny with concern.
"What about you? Last I heard you were nearly suffocated in class by that Phlegm Curse?" Ginny asked.
"Madam Pomfrey applied the Respiration Charm in time, and the new Potions master in the Hospital Wing found an antidote. The House-elves are putting it into the Pumpkin Juice. But the four tough security wizards don't drink pumpkin juice and are in St Mungo's sick as dogs."
"We know, we've solidified their doors into solid rock," Ginny said with a grin that immediately faded. "I've heard you're still getting attacked and cursed frequently enough? Doesn't Snape do anything about it?"
"Don't fret. A good soak in a bath with Epsom salts, followed by plenty of dittany, murtlap essence… I'll be right in no time," she replied, paying it off, but Ginny wasn't having it; she placed her hands on her hips in her best mom impersonation. "Okay, yes and no. I've had more trips to the Hospital wing than any Quidditch team. But Severus can only retaliate if it's a student who harms me – not if either Alecto or Amycus do." She decided not to tell her about her last retaliation with the Venous Tentacula. "And besides, Draco told me that Travers, Rowle and MacCavish were Crucioed harshly the last time they were summoned by the Dark Lord. They are to watch only, no touching or magic of any kind, so they glare at me. It's only the Carrows I have to be careful of. What about you? None of you got sick, I hope."
"We got our pumpkin juice, so no, we're all fine. Neville is really quite good with Healing positions as well. We have plenty of herbs as well as Wiggenweld and Wound-cleaning Potions, Himalayan and Amica Muscle Balms, and Owen-Jones elixir – the usual. Apparently the room can give us things we need and water, it just can't produce food. Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration," Ginny said casually. "So, the Horcrux – what is it and where?"
"It's Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem and it's in the Room of Requirement," Hermione stated.
"Oh, crap." Ginny slumped into one of her chairs. She looked at her friend as Hermione sat down next to her.
"Yes, I'm sure. I'm not sure when he did it, or what he asked for to hide it. That's the problem. I don't know him well enough to know what he'd have thought of for his hiding place. It's too risky to hide it in the room where all things are hidden since anyone can access that room if they stumble upon it. He could've asked for a closet, a grotto, a child's room, a…."
"Yeah, something unusual if he knew about who the room works, which he may have done. Although that Room of Hidden Things is a huge room of all sorts of things. But you're right, he'd have to have hidden it really well," Ginny admitted realizing the complications. "And we'd all have to vacate the room while we search. That's another huge problem."
Ginny thought for a moment. "What we need to know is when Riddle found the diadem – what year."
"I know Helena Ravenclaw ran off with the diadem to Albania and hid it in a hollow tree. I know she confessed about the diadem to Tom Riddle when he was a student, and Helena said he'd defiled it," Hermione said.
"Made it a Horcrux," Ginny added with a nod. "Tom attended Hogwarts from 1938 to 1945, I looked it up, and according to his diary he learned all about the interesting places in the castle, loads of secrets passageways, hidden rooms… He bragged about knowing the castle better than anyone, even the Headmaster and staff."
Hermione was touching her fingers randomly with her eyes closed.
Ginny waited; she knew Hermione was trying to remember something. "Harry told us that Tom Riddle applied to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. When he didn't get it he cursed the post," she paused, pressing her lips together. "When? Why can't I remember when?"
"Obviously after he left school," Ginny said, watching her friend struggle.
"So,1945 or sometime later?" Hermione asked, her eyes unfocused, apparently trying to remember something she couldn't quite recall.
"I'm guessing immediately after," Ginny said. Hermione stared at her incredulously. "Tom lived in an orphanage that he loathed. He had no home, no family, nowhere to go. Hogwarts was the only place that was a home to him. But no headmaster would hire a wizard right out of school. Have you spoken to Severus? Maybe he knows when."
"You're right, I'll have to ask Severus," she replied.
Ginny was shocked. "You haven't asked him? Why?"
Hermione shrugged. "I'm not sure why except that there are two of the portraits that sneer at me all the time. One is ex-Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black. He is loyal to Bellatrix and Narcissa as well as to the Flints – remember? The other portraits are frequently reprimanding him about being honor-bound to give service to the present Headmaster of Hogwarts. He hangs in place of prominence in the Slytherin common room, too, but I don't trust him. He also hung in the room where Harry and Ron slept at Grimmauld Place – but he'd disappear. I'm sure he has a portrait in the Flint house and Lestrange home, if not in Malfoy Manor – now headquarters for the Dark Lord and his cronies. Maurice Gaunte, great grandson of Salazar Slytherin, the first Head of Slytherin House, hangs in the Slytherin common room as well, and in the restricted Long Gallery on the sixth floor, according to Hogwarts A History. All the dangerous, recalcitrant or subversive portraits hang there."
She looked at her laced fingers. "Thing is we have spoken about the Horcruxes in Severus' office, but I still…" She looked up at Ginny, slowly shook her head, then sighed. "He knows about them – the six Horcruxes. He helped Dumbledore by slowing the curse from the ring affecting his hand. He made the potions for you when you were in the giblet cages, and so much more."
Ginny understood. "Six years of distrust, hearing Harry hateful distrust of him… but you never seemed to feel the same way?"
"I didn't like him disrespecting a teacher. Dumbledore trusted him explicitly, I trust him." She looked up at Ginny, her expression so earnest. "But this is my task. I need to do this. For Harry and Ron. I have to."
The look on her friend's face was so similar to Harry's, Ginny felt a restricting twinge in her heart and gut. She missed Harry so much. Their occasional conversations, although brief – too brief – were all she had, and she missed him terribly. The vibration of her watch made Ginny gasp. "It's dinner time! You have to go."
"Crap," Hermine gasped, her eyes wide. "I used my Animagus form – I didn't tell anyone…"
"I got this," Ginny said, laughing. "Dobby, if you can hear me, please come take Hermione to her bathroom in the Headmaster's tower. It's urgent."
Dobby appeared, bowing low. "I's am here. I hears you, Miss Weasley, Dobby's friend. I's takes Mrs. Snape, yous and Harry Potter's friend, safely to her bathroom," he said and clasped Hermione's wrist.
~G~
Ginny was still smiling after watching a stunned Hermione Disapparating with the house-elf. Her smile faded as she realized what she had to talk to Neville and Seamus about – moving everyone in the Room of Requirement out – somewhere safe – to search variations of the room for the Horcrux. But nowhere was safe except the Room of Requirement. She wished she had Harry's map.
She opened the door, sealing it behind her and transformed into her Animagi form. Being a squirrel was advantageous except before or after meals and between lessons when the corridors were teeming with students hurrying about. Ginny had to keep careful watch and hide behind suits of armor, statues, and tapestries in her hurry to the fifth floor. She should have waited, she chided herself as she rested behind a suit of armor fit for a hefty person. As soon as the stomping footsteps trickled out, she rushed on.
-seventy-two more continues -