Chapter 4 Tempus Fugit
The author acknowledges that all characters are copyright by JK Rowling
Heading back to the library, Hermione opened the door of the reading room with her wand, to check inside.
The books she had requested had still not yet appeared on the desk. She wondered vaguely on the nature of the prank that Madame Pince was dealing with, remembering the swamp Fred and George had inflicted on the school during Professor Umbridge's tenure, before her mind reverted to more important topics. She might as well make use of the delay by trying to see Professor Vector.
Picking up the first of the treatises and stowing it into her backpack along with her notebook and pen, Hermione resealed the room and headed for the Great Tower.
The grand structure at Hogwarts known as the Great Tower was broad and squat rather than tall, but by the time Hermione had reached the top of the stairs, she was nonetheless a little short of breath. Hermione had only previously come as far up the tower as Professor McGonagall's office. As Professor Vector was aligned with Ravenclaw, Hermione had only ever her sought her out in the staff room, as a student regarding her lessons in Arithmancy. Hermione found the final staircase up to Professor Vector's rooms rather vertiginous as the sloping sides of the roof loomed in upon her.
Hermione knocked briskly, swaying slightly on the narrow landing. 'Lord!' she reminded herself, 'you had been on a broom, Buckbeak, a dragon! 'True…' conceded the tiny dark imp on her left shoulder, 'but you merely had to straddle those, whereas now you have to rely on those thin, wobbly legs…' Hermione locked her knees and waited. She was forced to knock again when there was no answer. Hermione had just cleared her throat in preparation for calling out as she knocked a third time when the door creaked open under her fist.
"Who is it?" came an uncertain voice from the brightest part of the room.
Hermione waited momentarily for her eyes to adjust before stepping into the room. "It's me, Hermione Granger, Professor Vector."
The Arithmancy teacher was sitting behind a desk with her back to a handsome bay window. Hermione supposed it must be the large oriole window she had often admired from the lake. There was likely a magnificent view, she surmised, when it wasn't raining cats and dogs.
Professor Vector was peering at her through her glasses."Hermione!" she exclaimed as she rose to her feet. "What a pleasure to see you! What brings you to Hogwarts?"
"Some Auror work, I'm afraid," said Hermione as she approached the desk, "connected to Severus Snape. I was hoping you might be able to help me."
Professor Vector paused to consider this.
"No doubt you discovered that Severus and I were close as students?" asked Professor Vector.
Hermione briefly stopped in her tracks. "You were?" she repeated, with just a tinge of incredulity.
Fortunately, Professor Vector seemed to miss the nuance in her voice. "Would you like some tea?" she asked uncertainly.
Hermione thought she might soon have tea coming out of her ears. But if tea was the magic potion that loosed people's tongues, she would gladly drink more of it.
"Thank you," she said, and then stepped back to allow Professor Vector access to the hearth, where a small kettle hung from a tripod.
Professor Vector took out her wand and magically prompted the fire into a very directed blaze underneath the kettle.
Hermione was soon sitting on a cushion in the bay window, being presented with a gilt-edged Royal Albert cup and saucer with pink and yellow roses on it. The wind howled outside and the rain hit the glass occasionally in sheets, as if someone was out there hurling it with a bucket.
"Oh, I love this pattern," she remarked as she admired the tea set. "My grandmother had it."
"Country Roses," replied Professor Vector reminiscently as she swivelled her chair to face her guest. "This was my mother's set. I always liked to watch the roses appear inside the cup as I drank."
The use of the past tense reminded Hermione that Professor Vector's father had recently passed. It seemed likely her mother had preceded him to the grave. Unsure, how to start, Hermione hesitated, and Professor Vector started for her.
"You were wanting to know about Severus?"
"Yes," prompted Hermione, keen to elicit more information on the tidbit Professor Vector had offered before she passed to the real instigation of her visit.
"Well, we met in first year. It soon became apparent that he was my only peer in Arithmancy, so I tried to befriend him. He was not an easy person to get to know. He snubbed me on my first approaches—ignored me when I sat beside him for the first time and just stared at me when I tried to discuss a problem with him. He wasn't nasty. I just got the feeling he didn't trust people easily, so I persisted. We eventually established that both our fathers were mathematicians. I believe I became his only friend."
Hermione considered this. "I thought that he was also friends with Lily Potter?" she ventured.
Professor Vector almost snorted. "I wouldn't call that a friendship! He was entranced by her and she… she treated him like some sort of stray puppy that had followed her home."
Hermione nodded slowly. This viewpoint seemed to gel with the few interactions she had seen in the Pensieve. "I hadn't realised…," she started, then frowned. "I don't recall the two of you ever sitting together at High Table as teachers."
Professor Vector flushed and looked into her cup. "He was different after he came back to the school as a teacher," she replied in a subdued voice. "I tried to keep in touch after we graduated. I wrote to him a few times. But he only replied to my first letter. Then nothing. I heard he had joined the Death Eaters…"
A look of grief passed over Professor Vector's face. Hermione was astonished at the emotions she had uncovered in a teacher who had always maintained a professional and coldly clinical manner in class. She felt an urge to grasp Professor Vector's hand, but felt this might be too forward and embarrass the teacher further.
"When he returned to Hogwarts as a teacher," Professor Vector continued, her throat constricted, "I tried to renew the friendship, but he wouldn't have anything to do with me. He got angry when I persisted. 'It is better that we keep our distance, Septima,' he said. Dumbledore was the only person he would talk to."
"I see," said Hermione gently. "Knowing that he had chosen vengeance as his path, I suppose he didn't want to involve you, especially with an enemy as dangerous as Voldemort."
Professor Vector sighed. Tears welled in her eyes, but fortunately, the dam did not burst. She extracted a lace-edged handkerchief from her pocket and blew her nose.
"So you felt you had a lot in common with him?" Hermione prompted, once she felt the lady had regained her composure.
"Oh, no!" sniffed Professor Vector. "Aside from the love of Arithmancy, not much! I came from a happy home! Whereas he… But there was no need for him to wallow in his misery! He just needed to let it go! He had a first rate mind and was not unattractive… At Hogwarts, he could have made a new start!"
Hermione chose her words carefully. "I did hear that he came from an unhappy home…" she prompted.
"Yes," replied Septima. "His father Tobias was not a nice man. Severus was the only child and was largely ignored by his father while growing up. His father seemed only to notice him whenever he did something to displease him—like coming to the breakfast table with his hair uncombed. Severus would promptly be dealt a clip upon the ear."
Involuntarily, Hermione winced, recalling the injury Madame Pomfrey had described in the staff room. She was not sure she could stomach further description of the violence Severus had been subjected to as a child—she also had come from a happy home. Instead, she took a thread from the staff room conversation. "I believe Mr Snape was an accountant at the mill at Spinner's End, and was possibly unhappy in his choice of profession?"
Professor Vector nodded. "Severus once told me that his father had narrowly missed out on a fellowship, being pipped at the post for Second Wrangler at Cambridge. He had expected Severus to also study Mathematics at Cambridge and was not supportive of him coming to Hogwarts. His father still wrote papers for mathematical journals and I believe he would fly into a rage if these were rejected or rebutted."
"And his mother, Eileen Snape, was a witch?"
"Yes, Mrs Snape had done well in her studies at Hogwarts— topping her class in Arithmancy and Potions—but she had some strange notions about merging the Magical and Muggle worlds. Her father was an important advocate for the Society of Magical Assimilation."
Hermione sat up, now truly interested. "I've heard of them. Didn't they believe the International Statute of Secrecy of 1689 was a mistake?"
"Yes, their beliefs are not taught at Hogwarts, of course, because the school's constitution requires it to educate within the constructs of the Statute. The Society believes that hiding from Muggles was the wrong response to the persecution that occurred prior to the age that Muggles call 'The Enlightenment'; that if Muggles could be made to see the importance of Magic, they would accept witches and wizards as valued members of society. Moreover, they believe that only by the two worlds co-operating will humankind advance."
"It sounds an admirable goal," ventured Hermione cautiously.
"It is a misguided goal," said Septima, quite unequivocally. "What does not work on a small scale will never work on a large scale. Severus' parents are a case in point. Have you ever known a mixed marriage to be successful?"
Not being aware of many examples—the long dead Potters being the only couple who immediately came to mind—Hermione could not argue this point with any conviction. Her own train-wreck of a marriage was too vivid a case for the negative.
"Well, I must say I was unaware of your friendship with Severus, but I appreciate any information on Professor Snape, so thank you for sharing that with me. If you think of anything further, I would be interested to hear it—I like to build up as complete a picture as I can in these complex investigations, one never knows when a seemingly insignificant fact will lead to some insight in a case. However, I wanted to consult you in a professional capacity. I have been trying to decipher Professor Snape's journals."
Professor Vector raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I heard that he kept encrypted journals, but I understood they were kept under lock and key by the headmaster."
"Well, I understand that was the case in Professor Dumbledore's time. But Professor McGonagall recently sent them down to the stack after she was unable to find the time to decipher them. I've brought one of them up to show you."
Hermione pulled the volume from her backpack, found one of the pages of calculations and began to explain the repetitive nature of the calculations and the accompanying text.
Septima frowned over the calculations and then stared fixedly at the unyielding text, flicking over several pages. She sighed. "It's fairly obvious he's doing a matrix decomposition, but without knowing what these variables are, it would be almost impossible to determine its purpose. Has any progress been made in deciphering the text?"
"No," replied Hermione. "Professor McGonagall only found sufficient time to provide a rough overview of Professor Snape's work, and I've only just begun work on it today. Could you tell me more about matrix decomposition? I did study matrices and vectors in Muggle high school, but I don't recall that was one of the topics covered…"
"No, it is an advanced topic," replied Professor Vector. "Linear algebra in Muggle high schools only covers the basics of matrices—properties, determinants, multiplication and the solution of differential equations."
"And we didn't cover matrices at all in Arithmancy," Hermione recalled.
"No," agreed Professor Vector. "Numerology is the chief focus of Arithmancy. Linear Algebra is not included in the curriculum of any of the major Wizarding schools. Nor am I aware of any major contributions to Linear Algebra made by wizards. Muggles are so fond of the area because of its enormous usefulness to computing."
"So what is matrix decomposition and how can it be applied in the Wizarding World?" asked Hermione.
"Despite my name, I can only answer the former simplistically based on my knowledge of my father's work," replied Septima.
"Your name?" repeated Hermione in puzzlement.
"'Vector'," replied Septima, with a hint of a grin. "It's a pseudonym which Dumbledore allowed me to take on accepting the post here. My real name is Wigglesworth, which I was teased about mercilessly when I attended Hogwarts. As a teacher, I thought I would 'head off' my pupils by adopting something less targetable, and what better than a term from a branch of mathematics that wizards hardly touch?"
"Ah!" said Hermione in understanding.
"My father was only a high school teacher," continued Septima, "but he still subscribed to several mathematical journals. Although he was mainly a consumer of these journals—unlike Tobias Snape who continued to publish until his death—he did write the occasional letter, pointing out errors in published papers or referencing some other work he thought might be helpful. Linear algebra was one of his pet topics.
"Basically, matrix decomposition is a procedure by which large matrices, encoding complex systems, can be reduced to a pair of smaller matrices, which when multiplied together approximate the larger one. The decomposition algorithm I am familiar with involves finding a succession of eigenmatrices which can be used to construct the pair to the required approximation. It would very tedious to do by hand."
Hermione nodded slowly, trying to assimilate this new information.
"Were my father around," continued Septima, "I would consult him further on the topic, but alas, I fear you will have to seek additional elucidation elsewhere, possibly with a learned Muggle Algebraist. As to your latter question, I will give some thought to the topic, but I'm not sure I can be of much help there either. While I considered myself to be technically superior in Arithmancy to Severus by the time we finished school, his interests were much wider than mine—he loved Potions even more than Arithmancy—and he was incredibly creative."
"Quite the Renaissance Man," offered Hermione.
"Indeed," replied Professor Vector. "However, I would not mind having a go at decrypting his work. That is perfectly within the realms of Arithmancy, and I think I am rather good at it. Would it be permissible?"
"Of course!" said Hermione. "I would like to retain Professor Snape's treatises for the moment—at least until I have reached an impasse in my current investigation. But I could have Madame Pince send you as many of his journals as you desire. Perhaps I should clear it with Professor McGonagall first, but I believe all of the Hogwarts teachers can access any book in the restricted section."
"Excellent!" said Professor Vector with such glee that Hermione would not have been surprised if she had clapped her hands together. "Do run it past Minerva first! Provided she has no objections, I look forward to the challenge!"
It seemed an opportune time to depart. Hermione was keen to get back to the library, to the more tractable task of poring over Professor Snape's reading from the restricted section. So she made her adieus, promising to let Professor Vector know of the outcome of her request before departing for London on the morrow.
When Hermione arrived back at the reading room, she discovered that Madame Pince had finally been successful in retrieving the desired books. Intriguingly there were some muddy prints from the librarian's heels on the floor. Perhaps the prank had been a muddy swamp after all!
Hermione sat down with some eagerness, quickly examining all three books before deciding that The Compleat Works of Annie Price, looked by far the most interesting.
It was not indexed, so Hermione began by scanning the section headings, stopping whenever she came to a topic of interest to read the entire text.
So immersed in this most fascinating tome of archaic knowledge did Hermione become that she failed to notice the light dimming outside, partly because it had been such a wretchedly dull day, but also because the enchanted lamps in the reading room kept the illumination constant as dusk approached.
When a knock came at the door, Hermione was quite startled by it. She looked up to bid the knocker enter, fully expecting another intrusion by Madame Pince. But she was struck speechless when Argus Filch, the caretaker of Hogwarts, slunk into the room. What chiefly astonished Hermione was the fact that although Filch had seemed ancient when she was attending school, he did not appear to be any different to how she remembered him. It was as if he possessed the Philosopher's Stone.
"Beggin' your pardon, Miss Hermione," he started, practically tugging his forelock. "But the headmistress sent these robes for the Great Hall, thinkin' you might not ha' brought any with you."
Hermione gave a gasp on consulting her cell phone. It lacked only 15 minutes to the dinner hour.
"The headmistress also offered to send a tray, if you preferred," continued Filch. *But it's roast lamb tonight, so I expect you wouldn't be passing that up for some dry old sandwiches."
Indeed, it had been a long time since Hermione had had a roast dinner, living alone, mostly on takeaway.
"Thank you, Mr Filch," she replied. "I will come down to dinner, but will have to get ready fairly smartly. I wonder if Madam Pince will allow me to leave my things in this room? I hope to come back here after dinner."
"Oh, aye. That should be all right. Just lock the door with the password when you leave."
Still Filch loitered, when Hermione knew she really needed to be proceeding with the business of getting ready.
"…I hope there's no bad feelings about your school years, Miss Hermione," started Filch. "Who was I to know that it was You-Know-Who who was behind all those strange goings on at the school? And you and Mr Potter and that Weasley kid only trying to help out? Someone needs to keep some order and discipline round here, and Professor Dumbledore, bless his soul, was not one to bother with what he considered beneath him…"
Clearly Filch, like Madame Pince, was moved to be apologetic. What had come over them both?
"Of course," said Hermione soothingly, hoping to get Filch out the door in the minimum amount of time. "You did very well, Mr Filch. I'm sure Professor Dumbledore was quite preoccupied with outsmarting Lord Voldemort and truly appreciated someone having his back around the castle."
She moved quickly round the desk to open the door for him, hoping to speed his exit. Thankfully Filch went, with a ridiculous amount of bowing and scraping.
'How could a man who looked identical to the curmudgeon who haunted the school of her youth, behave so differently?' thought Hermione. It was beyond comprehension.
Hermione quickly locked the door from the inside, slipped her coat off her shoulders, and picked up the dress robes, noticing the name 'Minerva McGonagall' stitched neatly inside the collar in red thread. She supposed they must be a spare set of robes. As Professor McGonagall was a good six inches taller than Hermione in her heels, Hermione expected she might have to bespell the hem to keep it from the floor. But once she slipped the robes over her head, Hermione saw the headmistress had already adjusted the robes perfectly. Honestly, this woman thought of everything! So there only remained Hermione's coloured trainers looking a little odd sticking out from beneath the robes. With a quick charm, she gave them the appearance of a pair of black leather school shoes—hardly elegant, but they would not look out of place among the many students dressed in the same manner.
When Hermione arrived in the vestibule she found Hagrid there, folding a ridiculously small pink umbrella before shaking himself off like a dog. Hermione kept well clear of the spray but then couldn't help running in to give Hagrid a big hug when he smiled at her. He smelled like a pile of wet blankets.
"Hermione! It's great to see you! 'Came up 'specially once Professor McGonagall told me you would be here. Scared the hell out of Tiny when her head popped up in the fire. 'Could hardly hear what the headmistress was saying fer all the barking! Not that I often miss roast lamb," he amended, "but tonight did seem a night when some stew by the fire might be the better option."
Hermione assumed Tiny was Hagrid's current dog. Remembering Hagrid's bizarrely misnamed hellhound Fluffy, Hermione barely repressed a shudder. "Thank you for making the effort, Hagrid. It's really good to see you!" she replied with her best sangfroid.
"And I…" Hagrid cleared his throat. "Ahem, I'm sorry to hear you and Ron broke up. Both good friends. But I'm sure you had your reasons. Sometimes being apart works better, like me and Olympe," he said, giving Hermione a pat on her shoulder that threatened to dislocate it.
Hermione nodded and forced a grimacing smile as a lump formed in her throat.
"Well then," said Hagrid, showing unusual diplomacy, "I can smell that lamb from here!"
And they silently turned and walked into the Great Hall together.
It was much as Hermione remembered it—a myriad of candles floated weightlessly under a twinkling starry sky that seemed painted onto the texture of the vault. But the beams were tonight decorated with Gryffindor regalia, in honour of their win at Quidditch that day.
Hermione had just started automatically in the direction of the Gryffindor table when Hagrid reminded her that distinguished guests sat at the High Table. He gestured for her to precede him with his enormous hands.
Highly gratified, Hermione tried to sit down on the end near Hagrid, but all the teachers stood up and urged her towards the centre of the table where a chair stood vacant next to Professor McGonagall. With some astonishment, Hermione immediately recognised it as the deputy head's chair from its style and location.
"But is this not Professor Flitwick's chair, as deputy?" Hermione asked, seeing that he was occupying the next chair along.
"We need not stand on ceremony all the time," Professor Flitwick assured her. "Please be seated."
Hermione accepted with a nod of thanks, then waited for Professor McGonagall to reseat herself before taking her place.
The three of them made inconsequential small talk for several minutes before Professor McGonagall looked at the watch pinned at her breast, pushed out her chair and stood to say a few words before dinner.
Hermione smiled when the headmistress engaged in some light-hearted banter on Gryffindor's victory, then didn't know which way to look when Professor McGonagall introduced Hermione, describing her as 'a former Gryffindor and distinguished guest from the Ministry'. Fortunately, Hermione's eyes happened to fall on the Gryffindor table, where there was much whispering, smiling and general poking of each other with elbows. She saw a cheery wave directed at her from a scrubby-headed boy with glasses who she immediately recognised as the eldest Potter boy, James. She had completely forgotten that he had started at Hogwarts—how time flew! She gave a big grin back and felt immediately at ease.
Professor McGonagall reseated herself. With a clash of china and cutlery, the feast began as the soup magically appeared in front of them in tureens. Professor McGonagall served Hermione with the ladle, then herself, before picking up her spoon.
"Well, my dear. Any progress today that is not classified?" she enquired.
Hermione tasted her soup before replying. It was pumpkin with a hint of curry powder, garnished with a dollop of crème fraiche and sprigs of English parsley. Delicious!
"Well, I found the works much as you described them," replied Hermione, trying to speak in generalisations. "I'm rather interested in one of the topics in the treatises—a series of calculations accompanied by repetitive text. I believe he may have been perfecting a rather complicated spell."
"That puzzled me exceedingly," said Minerva. "It was nothing like I'd ever encountered before. I admit to wasting a lot of time trying to decipher the text."
"I believe I understand the nature of the calculations he was performing, though not yet their purpose," confided Hermione.
The headmistress raised her eyebrows. "So quickly?" she said, rather shame-faced.
"It is but one hundredth of the puzzle," said Hermione, trying not to raise any false hopes.
"And do you think it might relate to the topic of interest to you?" asked Professor McGonagall, referring to Alpha-8-amber tangentially.
"It is too early to say," replied Hermione. "Certainly it was a topic of great interest to him. Professor Vector was able to confirm my suspicions on the nature of the equations and provide a better understanding of the mathematics, though I will have to consult elsewhere for further elucidation since she is not an expert."
Here Hermione looked up and down the High Table for Professor Vector, but was unable to spot her.
"If you are looking for Septima," Minerva observed, "she will not have come down because of the roast lamb. She has become Vegan and will no doubt be partaking only of the pumpkin soup, sans the crème fraiche, in her tower."
"Oh," said Hermione. "Well, understanding the mathematics is only the half of it. We will need also to crack the encryption on the text, and there Professor Vector has offered her services, provided you are willing to allow her access to the journals, which I am not currently using. She was concerned there might be some special embargo on them."
"Of course, she can have them for such a noble purpose," said Professor McGonagall, before adding sheepishly—"I must admit that I did ask Irma Pince to advise me if anyone requested any of the volumes from the stack. Perhaps I am becoming too suspicious and secretive, like Dumbledore, in my old age. Severus was too wedded to the Dark Arts on his return to the school for my liking."
Hermione also wished to relate her discovery from the Staff Room, but she feared that Professor Flitwick might not be discreet if the topic was broached in front of him—he had, after all, considered Snape's familiar a fable until recently… and a source of mirth.
"Thank you," said Hermione. "Professor Vector seemed eager to test her skills in deciphering them."
"Good," said McGonagall. "I think working with you will be just the thing for her. I am concerned she has not been socialising sufficiently since her father died. It is not enough to teach, because of the power imbalance, one must engage with one's peers."
Hermione considered this briefly with approval, wondering if she would ever be as wise as Professor McGonagall.
The lamb soon arrived on the tables and Professor Flitwick knelt on his chair to carve for those in his immediate vicinity while Hagrid performed the same office for his end of the table, his hands engulfing the carving knife which seemed a dainty utensil like a cake fork in his paw.
The conversation turned from small talk to cheerful reminiscences as everyone enjoyed the roast, accompanied by a mint sauce, delicious roast tubers, and cruciferous vegetables served in a mornay sauce with a sprinkling of nutmeg on top. A trifle arrived soon after with tea.
On reflection, Hermione thought as she sipped her tea, the meal was less like the feasts that had been served in Dumbledore's time and had more of the aspect of traditional home-cooked meals, but it could not be faulted on taste. Hermione approved of the restraint, and said so to Professor Flitwick when Professor McGonagall turned to talk to the new Potions teacher on her other side.
"Oh, we only have the one head chef amongst the house elves these days," confided Flitwick. "In Dumbledore's time there used to be half a dozen chefs, all refugees from various great houses that had been extinguished by Voldemort in his first reign of terror. They could never agree on a menu, so each cooked whatever they specialised in. Dumbledore found it incredibly amusing when some strange juxtaposition appeared in front of him—like a dish of tripe next to deep-fried bananas. I do sometimes get a hankering for Banjeet's samosas though. After Voldemorts defeat, the remnants of his family returned from India to occupy their estate in Derbyshire once more and he returned there."
This incredible insight helped Hermione make sense of the organised chaos that she had occasionally glimpsed upon descending into the nether regions of Hogwarts' kitchens during her interventions with SPEW. It also went someway towards explaining why all the house elves were so keen to remain unliberated by her efforts.
When the students began to stream out of the Great Hall in groups, Professor McGonagall invited Hermione to take sherry in her office. It seemed churlish to refuse. Moreover, she seemed to be making wonderful progress by just talking to people. Professor Flitwick was very gratified to be invited as a third.
So when a tiny crystal glass had been charged with a very nice dry sherry, Hermione was finally able to reveal her second discovery for the day—that Pomona Sprout had long suspected that Professor Snape had a raven for a familiar. Professor Flitwick had the grace to apologise for having ever doubted her.
"Well," said Professor McGonagall, immediately reaching the same conclusion as her colleagues had earlier, "it is a pity we did not know at the time. We might have revived him after the battle, if Professor Slughorn had been able to counter the venom. But maybe not, Horace was always a better networker than a Potions Master. He knew all the showy stuff, but had none of Snape's artistry for healing. How ironic that the world's most gifted apothechist was the man needing aid!" she concluded, echoing Hermione's previous musings on the topic.
They finished their sherry and when the clock struck midnight, Professor Flitwick bid them good night, sensing that Professor McGonagall had something more she wished to say to Hermione alone.
"Given this new piece of knowledge, Hermione," said Professor McGonagall as the door closed behind him, "I just wanted to say before you retired for the night that I think that the extensive work Severus pursued in mathematics cannot have been related to the creation of his familiar. I did an essay on the topic for my N.E.W.T. in the History of Magic years ago. The sorcery involved is obscure, but not that complicated, merely dangerous. He must have been pursuing some other, more involved line of study…"
"Perhaps," said Hermione, "but he was so creative! I have to wonder whether he was pursuing some novel line of enquiry. The breadth and novelty of the few spells Harry tried from Professor Snape's Potions text book were astonishing. What a shame the book was destroyed by Fiendfyre before it could be transcribed!"
"If there was more like that Sectum Sempra spell in there," said Professor McGonnagall with a shudder, "I say good riddance."
Hermione nodded in reluctant agreement and moved to go.
"Will you be coming down for breakfast or shall I have a tray sent up at a later time?" asked Professor McGonnagall. "You've had a long day today."
"I think I'll read for a bit before retiring," said Hermione, "so a tray at ten would be good."
"Excellent. I took the liberty of having the books you were reading and your effects transferred to Gryffindor tower. I believe Madame Pomfrey has found you a gown to sleep in and sent along toiletries from the hospital wing. If there is anything else you need, be sure to ring the bell for a house elf."
"I'm sure I'll find anything else I need in the Gryffindor common room," replied Hermione, still eschewing anything that smacked of a servant.
Professor McGonagall walked her to the door. "I expect you'll want to be off to London after lunch. I believe they've updated the Muggle forecast—it won't be clearing till late in the day. Perhaps it would be better if we have lunch together in Hogsmeade. Then you can take the floo network back…"
"Thank you," said Hermione. "That looks like my best option. Lunch would be lovely."
"Goodnight," said McGonagall, as she moved to close the door.
"Goodnight!" echoed several of the portraits over the headmistress's shoulder as Hermione turned to descend the stairs.
Hermione trod the dimly lit corridors, immersed in her thoughts. So it wasn't until she actually saw the Fat Lady's portrait that she realised she had completely forgotten to enquire of the password.
"Hello, Hermione," said the Fat Lady when she saw Hermione hesitate. "I've been waiting for you to arrive before flitting off for some socialising. There is only you in the Senior Girls' Dormitory tonight."
"I'm afraid I don't know the password," confessed Hermione.
"Well, I'm not so strict about the password any more, my dear. Only 10 boarders in Gryffindor this year. It's much easier to keep track of them. I will only insist on it when that Longbottom boy arrives in a couple of years' time. We can't have him turning out as forgetful as his father, can we?" she asked.
"I'm sure we've all come to appreciate that Neville has other qualities," replied Hermione. "But thank you for letting me in. Nice to see you."
After wandering up to the dormitory to retrieve the nightgown and toiletries and unearthing some fresh underwear from amongst the yoga gear in the depths of her backpack, Hermione had a quick shower, then descended to the Common Room to acquire a glass of water.
By the time she settled into bed with The Complete Works of Annie Price, it was almost one.
When the clock in the common room struck three and Hermione's eyes finally began to droop, she was a third of her way through the volume. She flicked her wand to extinguish the candle neatly, without the trail of black smoke that followed a breath.
Hermione woke at six, when the early dawn light peeped through the window. It seemed to be still pouring outside, but the wind had died down. In the strange way that the subconscious works on problems during sleep, a salient fact escaped the morass of words she had read on the previous day and a paragraph slipped into her mind:
"I do not believe," had written Annie, "that I made any error when reviving my beloved mentor Hilda. Yet I have often thought of the claws she possessed for the rest of her life after the incident. Hilda was a great mind, but of all her qualities, I consider her tenacity her greatest asset—the way she pursued problems until they yielded to her inquiries. So are raptors tenacious—they must grab and hold their prey until they can find a safe place to consume it. In line with my Theory of Many Aspects, I believe Hilda may not have sufficiently orthogonalised this aspect of herself in the incantation inspiring the familiar—in that, they were too similar. And thus this tenacity was retained in a bodily form after the transformation…"
"Orthogonal…" thought Hermione. "Aren't eigenvalues orthogonal?"
Was it a coincidence? Or did she have a lead? Was it worth pursuing? Hermione pulled out her notebook and wrote it down.
From experience, she had learned to trust her subconscious.