Ok, alix33, maybe I dropped into outdated country Australian English again. But I like using outdated nostalgic English. And I think JK Rowling does too. When some of my ancestors arrived in Australia in 1836, there were even Longbottoms here. 'In a pet' means 'in a petulant mood' ie huffy, sulky. Searching Google, apparently Abraham Lincoln used it in a letter once. I've put it into a footnote for chapter 1 in my master. Thanks for your other corrections.
The author acknowledges that all characters are copyright by JK Rowling
Chapter 3 Not you average arithmancy
Heading off through the corridors of Hogwarts, Hermione's feet seemed to find the library of their own accord. She was rather startled on entering to be approached by a friendly Madame Pince—an aspect of the librarian that Hermione had never encountered in her student days. The librarian led her to the west end of the library where, with a subtle flick of her wand, Madame Pince swung open a bookcase, to reveal a private reading room overlooking a splashing fountain in a hidden cloister. Hermione had known such rooms existed off the library—Luna Lovegood had seemed to know quite a lot about them. But as Hermione had always been focused on her studies as a student, she'd never bothered waiting in the west end to catch a glimpse inside whenever someone had emerged, as Luna had apparently done.
Stepping inside, Hermione saw a set of leather-bound journals piled neatly on one end of the large desk that dominated the small room.
"Here you are, my dear," said Madame Pince. "You'll find quills, ink and parchment in the bureau. If you need any additional books, you can request them through the intercom," she said, indicating a Bakelite contraption on the desk that Hermione had taken for an elaborate inkwell.
Hermione thanked the librarian in astonishment, set down her backpack against one of the desk legs, and viewed the comfortable padded green leather chair behind it with approval. It rather reminded her of one that had adorned Slughorn's office, further supporting Luna's contention these rooms were set aside for use by the teachers.
Hermione opened the bureau in preparation but was reminded of Madame Pince's continued presence when the librarian cleared her throat. Hermione looked round.
"Professor McGonagall always speaks so highly of you, Miss Granger," said the librarian, with a slight quaver in her voice. "Can I just apologise if I spoke a little sharply to you on occasions when you were a student, my dear. You were always with that Weasley boy… Such a time they gave me!"
Hermione rather thought Ron had been tarred with Fred and George's brush. She smiled while making vaguely sympathetic noises, hoping fervently the librarian would take herself off, so that she could get down to business.
Thankfully, this confession seemed to assuage Madame Pince's belated sense of guilt and she departed.
Hermione decided to start by going over Professor Snape's volumes quickly. She opened each of them in turn, flicked through the pages from end to end, then upended the spine gently, lest anything slip out. This was standard Auror search procedure. Her care was rewarded when the last of the journals yielded a wizarding photograph of a woman breaking into a smile.
Slipping a ruler into the volume to mark the spot, Hermione tugged the photo gently from between the pages. It turned out to be only part of a snap. Hermione immediately recognised Lily Potter. She was less round-faced than in Snape's memory in the Pensieve, possibly older. She had her hands on her hips, and her gaze was directed at something off-camera, but whatever that had been was torn away. Hermione had a vague memory that Harry had spoken of finding a damaged photograph of himself and his father at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, after it had been ransacked. At the time, he had accused Snape of the destruction. If this was the same photograph, it seemed likely he had been correct. A twinge of guilt once more pricked Hermione's conscience—she had called Harry out so many times for being paranoid, and he had been right almost every time. Just like Mad-Eye Moody, Harry had an amazing ability to smell a rat. He made a good Auror.
Pulling out her notebook, Hermione noted the location of the photo in the volume. It had been in the last blank page, as if Snape had been looking at it on the day he fled the school. Hermione then turned to examining the content of the volumes. She immediately recognised the spidery script that had inhabited the margins of the Half-Blood Prince's potions book. It seemed Snape's handwriting had not matured much since his schoolboy days. What had her dentist father said in defence of his own scrawl?—an untidy hand reveals a busy mind.
Hermione found the volumes much as Professor McGonagall had described them. She was easily able to discern the journals from the treatises and immediately decided to focus first on the latter, specifically the three topics of extended interest to Professor Snape that Minerva had indicated.
Sitting down and placing the copied index in front of her on the desk, Hermione found the beginning of the first, most extensive, topic and began to examine it. Like the journals, Snape had dated each section in the treatises. Although everything besides the date was written in code, Hermione immediately guessed the topic might be some sort of literature search—there were sentences encapsulated in quotes, with short indented notes underneath that lacked capital letters and full-stops, that might be bullet points.
Hermione scanned through subsequent similar sections of the topic before she was arrested by something completely different—symbols she recognised from Arithmancy. However, the calculations were not like anything Hermione had done in her classes at Hogwarts… More accurately, the notation looked like some weird cross between Arithmancy and Muggle mathematics. It went on for several pages before reverting to text, but flipping ahead to the next sections, Hermione could see the calculations recurred for some time.
This piqued her interest. After her first year as an Unspeakable, Hermione had decided to attend Muggle high school by correspondence. Exactly why she had done so, she could not entirely explain. She felt she might have been prompted by a wish to continue her studies. But as there were no wizarding universities—wizards still mostly learned their occupations through apprenticeship—she decided to pursue Muggle high school. Hermione had been all too aware that her parents had acquired tertiary educations, albeit in the rather practical area of dentistry, whereas she, the 'brains' of the family, hadn't even matriculated. After taking a placement test, Hermione had been allowed to sit for her A levels at an Oxford correspondence college in History, Maths and Chemistry—subjects she felt might be of use to her in her work as an Unspeakable. She had gained an A* in each.
Now, as she examined the text before her, Hermione was reasonably sure she was looking at matrix algebra. But with the variable names and accompanying text obscured by the code, it was difficult to discern its purpose. Nonetheless, Hermione spent the next hour poring over Snape's calculations. After some initial development, which included cross-outs and marginal notes, the calculations seem to reach a stable format. They were then repeated, with variations, over multiple sections. After the calculations concluded, there was a section of writing completed on the same day, starting at the top of a new page and covering two pages, in a neater than usual hand. It reminded Hermione of poetry, being written in couplets. If it was a spell, it was certainly a complicated one. Thereafter, the sections relating to that topic were much shorter, spanning dates over many years until Snape's death.
Hermione got up to pace before the window. How could she work this out? Her mind raced in various directions. Could Professor Vector be of help? Or would it be best to consult a Muggle mathematician? She immediately recalled her tutor at Oxford—a rather brilliant PhD student who had been supplementing his meagre scholarship through tuition. He might be able to confirm Hermione's speculations on the nature of the mathematics. Would it be best to start there? What of the encoded research? Where had Snape obtained the source books? He had not worked for the Ministry, and the only other major source of magical arcana that Hermione knew of in Britain was here at Hogwarts. But the research had been started shortly after he left the school… Perhaps, there might be some clue in the books Snape had read in his last year at Hogwarts?
Walking briskly back to the desk, Hermione pressed the intercom. "Madame Pince?"
The reply came through, clear as a bell, without the static Hermione had expected based on the apparent vintage of the device. "Yes, Miss Granger?"
"Do you have a record of the books checked out by Severus Snape during his last year at Hogwarts?"
"Yes, ma'am, I'll bring it to you," replied the librarian.
Pushing the chair out from the desk, Hermione bent to view its underside with some suspicion. There were no wires leading to the intercom—it must be enchanted. It reminded her forcibly of Mr Weasley's attempts to magically repurpose Muggle objects.
Before Hermione could even right herself, the door opened. Hermione stood up so quickly, she knocked the back of her head on the desk as she did so. Madam Pince was right beside her. Hermione stared. Even using magic, the librarian's advent had been extraordinarily quick—it was like she had been waiting right outside the door.
Handing over a piece of parchment, the librarian waited while Hermione scanned it. The books were all neatly annotated with the dates they had been borrowed and returned.
"I doubt you will find anything of interest there," commented the librarian as Hermione read. "It was only after Professor Dumbledore granted Severus access to the library as an alumnus that he began borrowing from the restricted section."
Hermione's mouth opened in an 'o'. She had not known that Snape had been given this special dispensation by his former headmaster. She felt rather silly for not soliciting his borrowing information as soon as she'd walked into the library.
"Of course…," murmured Hermione, resisting the urge to rub her still smarting crown. "Could I have that list also please?"
The librarian reached out her hand, clearly indicating that Hermione should return the original list. But when Hermione did so, Madame Pince merely placed the parchment on the table, tapped it with her wand and returned it. The list had grown much longer.
Hermione scanned it quickly. One title immediately leapt out at her—the name had come up during her conversation with Bob Reingold.
"The Compleat Works of Annie Price, is that available?"
"It was in the Headmaster's office for many years until quite recently," said Madame Pince. "I believe it was among the books Professor McGonagall sent to the restricted section of the stack."
Hermione considered this. "Are restricted books sent to the stack considered less important than those housed in the library proper?" she asked.
"Sometimes," replied Madame Pince vaguely, before adding: "Sometimes, it is because they are outdated. Othertimes, because they are considered a little unsavoury."
"Oh!" said Hermione drolly, imagining Ron was there to share the joke, "—sort of like a 'restricted' restricted section."
Madame Pince did not smile.
Hermione could see it would be useless following this line of questioning with the librarian—she would have to ask Professor McGonagall later. Regrouping, she asked: "Could I have the Price book, please? …And perhaps the two other books that Severus borrowed on the same day?"
The librarian nodded and withdrew. Hermione sighed and walked back to the window, to view the splashing fountain. Sometimes she missed Ron, but it was a 'nostalgic' sense of loss—not for the Ron that existed now, but for the one she had gone to school with. She reminded herself that she had been given fair warning when Ron had abandoned Harry and herself on their quest for the Horcruxes—that demon of jealousy and under-confidence had always dwelt in him. She had thought she could conquer it with her love—such hubris!
Hermione jumped when there was a loud 'bing', reminiscent of the impending announcements in the department stores of her youth. She turned to locate the source, in time to hear Madame Pince's voice issuing clearly from the intercom once more:
"Ms Granger, you may care to take a cup of tea while I locate these books—it appears one of the students I recently had in detention has played a little joke upon me. Can you give me half an hour? The password on the door is 'Tempus fugit'"
Hermione bent over to press the button. "Yes, of course, Madame Pince."
Hermione was only too willing to comply—she felt she could do with a break. Had the weather been fine, she would have immediately taken a stroll through the grounds to Hagrid's hut, but there was no question of that in this weather—shield charms were not effective against tempests.
Heading aimlessly back downstairs, Hermione briefly contemplated taking tea alone in the Great Hall before remembering the staffroom, a location she had hovered anxiously without on many an occasion, wanting to establish her results in this assignment or that exam. It seemed unlikely that it would be occupied on a weekend—all the teachers were probably relaxing in their rooms. Nonetheless, she knocked politely on the staffroom door before trying the handle.
The room was not deserted.
"Miss Granger!" declared Madame Pomfrey.
The school's nurse was seated with two others in armchairs ranged round a roaring fire in the hearth.
"Do come and join us!" begged the nurse as she got up. "We have just made a pot of tea."
When one of her companions waved her wand to fetch another armchair to the fireside, Hermione recognised Professor Pomona Sprout, looking not a day older than she remembered. She even seemed to be sporting the same old hat that she had worn years ago during Hermione's Herbology lessons.
The third person turned out to be Professor Fillius Flitwick, Head of Charms, who rose to give Hermione a little bow before summoning a clean tea cup and saucer from an ancient oak sideboard.
"Miss Granger!" he said in greeting, "or… I do beg your pardon, Mrs Weasley! How nice to see you again!"
"I'm afraid I've gone back to Miss Granger, Professor Flitwick. Ron and I recently divorced. But do call me Hermione."
All three teachers nodded sympathetically. Hermione noticed that none looked surprised. Had they merely heard of or actually foreseen the end of her marriage?
"What brings you back to Hogwarts?" asked Poppy conversationally, as she poured the extra cup.
"Still tidying up Auror business on Lord Voldemort's reign, I'm afraid," said Hermione, settling herself into her chair.
"So, I suppose it's confidential?" sighed Professor Flitwick, clearly disappointed.
"Well, I can't tell you exactly what I'm working on, but I was hoping to ask you a few questions," replied Hermione.
"Ask away!" said Professor Flitwick gleefully, shifting a little further forward in his seat.
Hermione took a cautious sip of tea—it was not too hot— then looked at them over the brim of her cup.
"Do any of you know anything of Professor Snape's childhood?"
They all looked at each other, silently deciding who should start.
"Well, his father was a Muggle and his mother a witch, of the Prince family," offered Fillius. "I believe she did quite well at Hogwarts, but is chiefly remembered as Captain of the Gobstones Team."
"I think the family lived at Spinner's End," added Poppy, "not far from the Evans family, who lived in a more affluent suburb nearby."
"That rings a bell," mused Hermione.
"His father was an accountant at the mill there," continued Poppy.
"I gathered from the Pensieve that Severus was an only child and wasn't very happy at home," prompted Hermione.
"Severus once told me that his father was not supportive of him coming to Hogwarts," replied Poppy.
"Well, this is all news to me!" huffed Pomona. "Where did you come by all that information?"
"At the beginning of his first year," explained Poppy. "Severus ended up in the hospital wing in a high fever, from a nasty gash on his leg. When he first turned up, I thought he must have got into an altercation with another student—the boys do, you know, when they're initially sorting out the pecking order. But once I saw the wound…. It was evident that it predated his return to school. He became delirious overnight and let a few things slip. I gathered he'd tried to intervene in a domestic between his parents."
"That must have been a fairly bad wound!" expostulated Fillius. "I always found the boy as tight as a clam. Happy to answer questions about the school work, but as soon as you asked him to volunteer something personal—silence."
"If he had gone into a Muggle Hospital with that wound," said Poppy, with some pride, "they would have taken him out in a box."
"And did his parents inflict this on him?" asked Pomona in horror.
"It wasn't clear what had happened exactly—but I think it was an accident. I believe there were regular domestics—that one such incident had escalated."
"I'd forgotten that you were close to Severus when he was a student," replied Pomona. "Didn't he volunteer in the hospital wing while he was at school?"
"I wouldn't say I was close to him," corrected Poppy. "But he was deeply impressed by my healing that wound—chiefly the incantations. His mother had given him dittany to rub on it, but the wound hadn't been cleaned properly first. As for volunteering, yes, he volunteered in the hospital wing every weekend until his fifth year, when he decided to focus on his O.W.L.s. We spent a lot of time together, but I can't say I got to know him well. He was a very private boy."
Fillius nodded in agreement.
"I never knew he volunteered in the hospital wing. That explains a lot," said Hermione, thinking of Harry's description of how Professor Snape had healed the horrific wounds Harry had unknowingly inflicted on Draco Malloy with the SectumSempra spell.
A silence loomed. Hermione decided to take the plunge.
"Did any of you ever suspect that Professor Snape had made a familiar?"
Both Poppy and Fillius immediately looked at Pomona.
"It's funny you should say that," replied Professor Sprout. "Fillius and Poppy teased me for years because I thought exactly that. When he first came to Hogwarts as a teacher, I would often see him out past the greenhouses at unusual times. Most often, he was just coming or going, but on one occasion, I saw a black bird fly off, just as I came round the back with a wheelbarrow. Severus looked annoyed. He seemed to be a solitary chap, so I just apologised at the time for startling him, and thought nothing more of it for a while. I didn't see him near the greenhouses again, but some time later, I became aware he was making regular trips into the Forbidden Forest—a place where only Dumbledore and Hagrid had hitherto been game to venture alone."
"Hagrid always took Fang," pointed out Fillius.
"Not for protection!" snorted Pomona, "—just companionship. And it would have been Fang's predecessor at that time. Wolf? Odin? One of the two."
But Hermione was satisfied. Without mentioning the form of the suspected familiar, Pomona had named the very creature of interest.
"So you do think there was a familiar?" asked Pomona excitedly.
"Well, it's only a guess at this stage," clarified Hermione. "But what you have said certainly lends weight to my suspicions. I may be able to determine conclusively one way or another by next week. I'm waiting on some information from the Department of Mysteries."
Pomona gave a triumphant glance at her companions. "I told you so!"
"Well, I suppose that explains a lot!" said Poppy, biting her lip. "Severus was very different when he returned to Hogwarts to teach. He was rather a sweet boy as a student, whereas the man who returned to the school to become Potions master was somehow broken. There were rumours he'd become a Death Eater; that he'd had an unhappy love affair…. But if he'd made a familiar, that would explain that element of coldness he returned with."
"Well, we all know now that he did become a Death Eater and he was disappointed in love!" said Pomona. "I'd never really thought about it before, but making a familiar on top of that would have been a devastating triumvirate on the soul!"
There was silence for a moment while they all pondered this.
Then, as if feeling somewhat guilty for casting gloom upon afternoon tea, Pomona attempted to revive the conviviality. "Anyway, you both owe me an apology and… a box of chocolates!" she said to the other two teachers. "A dozen Chocolate Cauldrons should set it right!"
Fillius and Poppy both chuckled and agreed. All three teachers then conspired to cheer Hermione. They could see she was looking unusually careworn.
After trying to warm to fifteen minutes of their banter, Hermione looked at her cellphone to check the time.
"I had better get back to work," she said. "Is Professor Vector still teaching at the school?"
"Oh, yes," replied Flitwick. "You'll likely find her in her rooms at the top of the Great Tower—up there communicating with God and Maths. She's not one for socialising. Never comes to tea. Hardly ever leaves the school on weekends now her father has passed."
"If you go up there, she'll probably give you more homework, Hermione!" joked Pomona.
"Do you have another puzzle for her?" asked Professor Flitwick, recalling a time in Hermione's fourth year, before her O.W.L.s consumed her, when she had regularly shared brain teasers with Professor Vector.
"Oh, yes," said Hermione cryptically as she carried her cup and saucer to the sink. "This one is a corker!"
The three teachers exchanged glances, too polite to enquire further.
"Well, goodbye!" said Hermione, pausing at the door. "Thank you for the tea and company!"
All three teachers slumped back in the chairs after her departure, slightly weary from the task of trying to lift Hermione's spirits.
"That girl works too hard!" said Fillius.
Pomona nodded in agreement.
But Poppy's mind seemed to be elsewhere. "What a shame we didn't take you seriously all those years ago, Pomona! We might have revived him after the battle! Now it is too late!"
Fillius looked at her in surprise. "Revived him? That's dark magic, Poppy!"
"It is dark magic to split a soul, Fillius, but not to rebind it," she replied gently.
Notes
Tarred with the same brush — If some people in a group behave badly and if people then wrongly think that all of the group is equally bad, you can say that the whole group is tarred with the same brush.